Asymmetrical (Part five)

[pinkichan]

When Ryan wakes up the next morning, he’s all alone. He figured Jon would go back to cleaning when Ryan fell asleep, but he thought Jon would also come back to Ryan’s bed for the night. Ryan pads through his house and stops at the guest bedroom. Jon is asleep, sprawled on the guest bed with Ryan’s acoustic next to him, lying like a mate on the bed. Ryan’s never been jealous of an instrument before, but he wanted Jon to sleep next to him last night.

Ryan’s laptop is also set up next to the bed. Ryan creeps to the laptop and peeks at the screen. There are two tabs brought up, one a porn site and the other GarageBand. Ryan frowns at the screen. Jon had probably come into the guest room to jerk off, but the guitar and music program don’t make much sense. Ryan knows there are demos of the Young Veins songs that are on the laptop, so maybe Jon was fooling around with them, just listening for nostalgia’s sake. It’s like Jon senses Ryan’s in the room because he startles awake. Jon stretches, his shirt riding up, and Ryan notices his jeans are undone, his boxers peeking out underneath.

“Hey,” Jon says, his voice rough with sleep.

Ryan smiles. “Good morning.” Jon glances at the laptop and then Ryan before he moves the guitar next to him so that he can push the top of the laptop closed. “I saw the porn already,” Ryan says. Jon looks sheepish and pats the spot on the bed next to him. Ryan folds onto the bed and crawls up next to him. “I don’t mind if you jerk off in here, but you’re supposed to come back,” Ryan says into the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

“I meant to.” Jon kisses Ryan’s forehead before leaning over and kissing Ryan’s mouth despite the fact that they both have morning breath. The shrill sound of a cell phone ringing interrupts them. Jon sighs before he rolls so he’s on his stomach, sticking his hands under the pillow and extracting his cell phone.

“It’s Brendon,” Jon says.

“Answer it,” Ryan tells him. Jon does.

“Hey, Bren.”

It doesn’t bother Ryan that Brendon calls Jon all the time. He almost prefers it that way. The amount of things Ryan’s had to say to Brendon died with the split. More often than not, they toe the line between awkward silences and subjects that are off-limits.

“Yeah, we can do that. Okay. Yeah, it’s not a problem. Alright, see you then,” Jon says. He hangs up and turns on his side.

“What’s up?” Ryan asks.

“Brendon and Spencer want us to come over. I guess they have some stuff to do on Sunday so they wanted to move dinner to today.”

“Probably recording stuff,” Ryan says. He sighs wistfully. He’d give anything to be in the kind of frenzy where you’re creating something new, bringing ideas to life. Jon reaches out and pushes a curl out of Ryan’s face.

“You do want to go, right? I can call them back if not.”

“No, I’ll go. I need to tell Spencer about Chicago to his face.”

Jon nods. “Breakfast?” he asks. Ryan nods.

“I’m going to take a shower first.”

“Okay,” Jon says. He leans over and kisses Ryan with a soft pressure, his tongue dipping into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan hums. He never really understood how affectionate Jon was until they started this, but it’s nice having someone who wants to be around you and kiss you and make you breakfast.

Jon goes to the kitchen and Ryan goes to shower. He strips out of his clothes and steps carefully into the shower. Jon had installed a metal bar inside the shower; even though it’s meant for people much older than Ryan, he’s none-too-prideful to know that he actually needs it. Ryan grabs the bar and steps into the shower. The rest is easy enough, though it takes him longer to shower.

During his washing, Ryan skims over his cock. It twitches to life when his hand passes by. Ryan touches himself for the first time in a long time. He strokes himself the way he’s used to, the way he likes: slow strokes first, turning his damp fist around his head, thumbing under the head. Ryan shivers and bites his lip. He’s still learning his body. It honestly surprises him when he feels his cock hardening in his hand. It’s not that he didn’t think he would never be hard, but he didn’t get hard with Jon’s mouth wrapped around his cock. Now that he’s touching himself in the shower, his dick is harder than it had ever gotten with Jon.

Ryan doesn’t know what that means, but he doesn’t stop touching himself. He almost calls for Jon, but what would he do then? Show off his erection proudly? Have Jon join him in the shower and actually get laid? What stops him from calling Jon is fear. What if Jon feels bad? What if he thinks Ryan can only get hard with someone besides Jon - or, even worse, what if his hard-on goes away once Jon joins him?

Ryan hunches forward, water beating down his thin back, and jerks himself off. He rarely jerked off with his left hand when he had both hands, but it’s still good, still pleasurable. Ryan doesn’t think about Jon touching him. He doesn’t even think of himself, he just thinks of Jon. He settles on imagining Jon last night after he left Ryan’s bed. Jon’s hand shoved down the front of his boxers, Jon biting his lip to keep quiet. He imagines Jon with his neck arched, his head buried in the pillows. Ryan envisions the way Jon’s hips would roll upwards when he got close, how he’d fuck his own hand in the same way he’d stroked Ryan, squeezing at the base of his cock to prolong the pleasure that much longer. Ryan imagines Jon touching himself with sure hands in all the right ways. It’s been so long that Ryan is on edge faster than he’s ever been in such a short amount of time.

Ryan keeps up the flashflood of Jon-laden imagery. He might be making noises, embarrassing and loud to his own ears, but he hasn’t come in so long and he doesn’t care and he’s so close. Ryan pictures Jon working himself to the edge and he comes the same time as the Jon in his imagination does.

Afterward, Ryan cleans himself up. With the help of the bar, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his shoulders. Ryan can smell breakfast. He doesn’t want to interrupt Jon’s cooking, so he dresses himself to a certain extent, just putting on his underwear and his pants. He leaves the pants undone and manages to get one of his button-ups on but hanging open. He needs Jon for all the fine details. Ryan heads out to the kitchen. Jon is making pancakes. He’s got a little stack of them on a plate on the counter. He hasn’t started cooking more yet, so Ryan clears his throat to get his attention.

“You’re doing better,” Jon says. He comes to Ryan without asking. Jon reaches for Ryan’s zipper. It’s strange for him to be doing Ryan’s pants up, tugging up the zipper and doing the button for him, eventually putting a belt on Ryan, too. Jon runs his fingers up Ryan’s chest. Ryan shivers, his body still strung tight from coming. Jon grins and opens his palms, running them over Ryan’s hips to touch at his back. Jon kisses Ryan’s jaw. Ryan feels a little guilty - he’s just come and Jon doesn’t know. Ryan doesn’t know why he can’t get hard with Jon; he’s afraid to try again in case he still can’t. If he can’t during the next time they try, then there’s something deeper than a fluke going on.

Jon thankfully pulls back though and carefully buttons up Ryan’s shirt for him, pressing a kiss to his mouth afterward. “Go get your belt and I’ll put that on for you,” Jon breathes against Ryan’s mouth. Ryan nods and slips away to go find his belt.

After Jon’s done his belt up, there are pancakes waiting for him. Ryan’s hand shakes a little as he eats his breakfast. He feels the effects of skipping his physical therapy, which doesn’t slip past Jon. “I was thinking,” Jon says. “I could call your physical therapist and ask him about things I could do with you if you really don’t want to go anymore or even just while we’re on our trip. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“My hand just gets tired,” Ryan says. “It used to happen to my other hand when I would write too much.”

Jon hums and eats his pancake. “I think I’ll call anyway. I want to know what he’ll say.”

Ryan shrugs and blows a curl out of his face. “Jon, I think I need a haircut,” Ryan says. Jon looks through his own curls and smiles. “I think we both do.”

After breakfast, they leave to go to find a place for a haircut. Jon picks a nondescript place that’s empty of other customers. Ryan’s got a blazer on over his paisley. It’s easier for him to feel like he has an arm or that the blazer is somehow protecting him, hiding the truth.

The hairdresser calls Ryan “Miss” when they first enter the shop, and after Jon laughs and corrects her, she asks him what he wants done to his hair. Ryan tries not to play with the empty sleeve of his blazer as he sits in the barber chair. He’s thankful when the woman doing his hair drapes the smock over his shoulders, covering him up from the neck down. Jon sits across from him in a chair by the cash register.

Ryan doesn’t go very short. He has her cut his curls off, watching them fall to the floor. In the end, his hair is still long, just not creeping down his neck and falling into his eyes. Jon goes after Ryan’s done and he does go short, cutting off most of his curls.

“I liked the curls,” Ryan points out.

“My hair grows fast,” Jon says in response. “Am I still handsome?” Jon asks when he’s all done, the woman running her fingers through Jon’s hair, styling it.

“No more than usual.”

Jon laughs and slides from the chair to pay the woman before he and Ryan leave to head to Spencer and Brendon’s place for lunch. Brendon’s dog bounces around Ryan and Jon’s ankles, begging to be petted. Jon squats down and scoops the trembling bundle of dog up into his arms. Bogart freaks out and licks Jon’s face and neck.

“You’re going to smell like dog and I am not going to kiss you,” Ryan warns.

“You won’t kiss me if I smell like dog? Nice to know.” Jon smiles, considerably more at ease than the last few days and maybe Ryan is too. They’re together and the promise of a vacation is brightening their spirits. Spencer and Brendon are both together in the kitchen, Brendon cooking and Spencer supervising. They seem lighter, too, happier than Ryan’s seen the two of them in a while. Jon sets Bogart down and leads Ryan into the kitchen.

Spencer sits on the counter opposite Brendon’s stove where Brendon’s cooking some kind of Spanish rice. “You two got yourselves all fancy just for us? You shouldn’t have,” Brendon says, glancing over his shoulder at the two of them, grinning huge and bright.

Something has changed. The atmosphere feels better, cleaner. Ryan can’t put his finger on it, but he likes it. It feels a little like a breakthrough, like maybe they all really can be like they used to be. Brendon ushers them out of the kitchen to the table where Spencer brings the food out on plates. It reminds Ryan of a married couple and those dinners married couples throw with other married couples.

“Hey, so, we kind of have an announcement to make,” Jon says during their meal. Spencer arches an eyebrow and Brendon looks stricken. Ryan knows why. The last time any sort of announcement was made was to say how the band wasn’t working and that splitting into two parts seemed to be a better idea.

“Last time that was said, things ended kind of bad,” Spencer says.

“This is happy news,” Jon says. He’s smiling like an idiot, which eases a smile onto Brendon’s face. Ryan laughs at Jon. Spencer looks at Ryan like he’s suddenly sprouted his long-lost arm.

“Then tells us this happy news,” Brendon says, sounding considerably happy again.

Jon looks to Ryan, urging him to go on with their announcement. Ryan touches at his newly-cut hair and bites his lip. It’s not that he’s worried Spencer will be angry or that he won’t go if Spencer doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Spencer can’t forbid him from leaving the state. He doesn’t want to fight. The ground the four of them walk on is tenuous at best.

“We’re, ah … we’re going to Chicago in a week.”

There’s a brief silence. Spencer looks quietly surprised. “Together?” Spencer asks. Ryan knows why he’s asking. Jon going to Chicago is normal, but Ryan tagging along? That makes less sense.

Jon nods. “Together. We thought it’d be a good idea.”

“When did the two of you become a ‘we’?” Spencer asks.

“Around the same time the two of you did,” Jon says, his finger traveling from Spencer to Brendon and back again. Spencer’s mouth forms a thin line. Ryan can feel the lightness fading from them.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Brendon says with a nod, trying his best to ease the mood. “It’ll be fun. Ryan needs some fun.”

Spencer hums like he’s considering the idea. “If it’s what you want, Ryan,” Spencer says. It echoes like the dinner Ryan and Spencer had when the idea of two bands became a reality.

Ryan glances at Jon. “I want it.”

“When are you leaving?” Brendon asks.

“Next Thursday.”

“How long are you staying?” Spencer asks.

Ryan looks at Jon. “We’re not sure,” Jon starts. “We’re going to stay with Tom while we’re there.”

Spencer nods and scratches at his chin. “Did you clear it with your doctors?”

“You’re acting like my mother, Spencer,” Ryan says with a sigh.

“I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart about this.”

“I cleared it with my group leader.” Ryan is growing irritated. He knows Spencer needs to know this, deserves to know it, but he doesn’t want Spencer thinking he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Hey, Jon, there’s something I wanted to show you,” Brendon interrupts. He’s fidgeting, aware of the awkward turn the conversation is taking, and he seems to want to pull himself and Jon from it. Jon looks at Ryan, silently asking if he should go with Brendon. Ryan nods. Jon pushes up from the table and follows Brendon back towards the guest bedrooms.

Spencer watches them go. Brendon’s excuse is lousy, but it works, and now he and Spencer are all alone at the table. When Brendon and Jon are out of sight, Spencer turns his gaze to settle on Ryan. “Are you sure about this, Ryan?” Spencer asks. He leans in close to Ryan, like they’re trading secrets at his dinner table like when they were kids. “I mean, you know you can stay here with us if Jon wants to go to Chicago.”

“I want to go to Chicago,” Ryan says firmly.

“What if he gets too busy to help you?”

“He won’t.”

“What if he wants to go out with Tom or Cassie or whoever else he hangs with in Chicago?”

Ryan frowns. “Stop it, Spencer. Jon won’t leave me behind.”

Spencer’s eyes flash with a new sense of knowledge. “Is there … is there something going on with you two?”

Ryan flushes lightly. He had mentioned to Spencer that he and Z broke up, but he never said anything about almost having sex with Jon, about starting whatever it is they started together. Had he and Jon been that obvious during their meal? There had been a few moments where their hands brushed or their smiles lingered. Even if Spencer did figure them out, they weren’t exactly keeping it a secret to begin with.

“We’re doing something that resembles dating,” Ryan says. He touches at his throat. “Just with fewer labels.” Spencer pushes a hand through his hair. “You’re surprised?” Ryan asks. Spencer laughs honestly.

“Not as much as you would think. You two are probably the least subtle people in the world. You know, it makes sense to me. You two have gone through something huge together. I get it. I get how you can just sort of fall for someone and not know how it happened or how much you wanted it until it happens but you’re really fucking glad you got it either way.”

Ryan tilts his head. “Spence,” he asks. “Are you and Brendon … ?”

Spencer ducks Ryan’s question. “Actually, Brendon and I had something to announce ourselves.”

“You’re fucking?” Ryan questions. It wouldn’t be a surprise. Ryan guesses that’s why it’s not surprising for Spencer that he and Jon are fooling around. Long ago, they all knew where the pieces were falling and who was aligning with whom.

Spencer laughs lightly and shakes his head, fingering his bangs. “It’s something about music.”

“It’s always about music,” Ryan says. “What is it?”

“Dallon is coming over soon,” Spencer says. “We wanted him to be here when we told you.”

Ryan’s stomach tightens. “If that Dallon guy needs to be here, I think I already know what it’s about.” Ryan doesn’t really want to do this. He doesn’t want to sit with his old band as they welcome in a new member, but the Young Veins had new members much sooner than Panic did. Then again, Ryan and Jon never made Spencer and Brendon watch that.

Jon and Brendon return to the dining room. Jon looks like he’s been delivered the same news as Ryan. Jon sits next to him - maybe to prove a point to Spencer or just to comfort Jon, to show him that the two of them are together in this. Ryan rests his hand on top of Jon’s.

Spencer watches them like he’s seeing them for the first time as a duo. Jon smiles at Ryan. Brendon looks at them, too, eyebrows knitted together, the ghost of a smile on his face. There’s a knock on the back door. Brendon is up and gone in a flash to answer it. Brendon returns a moment later with Dallon in tow, laughing at something that no one else heard.

Dallon is carrying a wooden box in his hands. He smiles at Ryan and Jon when he spots them at the table. “Nice to see you fellas again,” Dallon says, tipping an imaginary hat in their direction. Ryan nods in Dallon’s direction and Jon shoots back a “Hey.”

Dallon nods and smiles before turning his attention to Brendon. “Brendon, this is for you. I finished it last night,” Dallon says. He offers the box out for Brendon to take. As far as Ryan can tell, the box is for a guitar pedal with a design burned into the wood on top and along the sides.

Brendon lights up. “Thanks, D! Let’s go put it in the music room.” He rests his hand on Dallon’s arm and leads him down the hall. Ryan doesn’t miss the scandalized look Spencer is throwing Brendon.

“Seems like a nice guy,” Jon says with a shrug.

Spencer nods, eyes glowing a little. “He is.”

Dallon and Brendon return to the table half a minute later, laughing again. Ryan still has no idea what they’re laughing about. They’re caught up in their own inside jokes. Dallon sits between Spencer and Brendon at the table, looking more and more like the missing piece to their puzzle.

“Well, now that Dallon’s here, we can tell you guys the news,” Spencer starts. The tension builds in the room, but Ryan and Jon nod all the same. “We’ve decided that Dallon is going to be playing live shows with us from now on,” Spencer says.

Dallon won’t look at them, his eyes focused on the shiny table top. Spencer’s mouth is a serious line, a far cry from the light, happy laughing that took place less than two hours ago. Brendon glances at Dallon, his face filling up with tension. Ryan looks at Jon. He’s surprised at how okay he feels about their announcement. Panic will always be a part of Ryan, but it’s a part that he can’t have back. It’s changed around him, evolved under his fingers, and Ryan couldn’t keep up even if had the energy or want to do so.

Jon looks to Ryan. They share a smile, one that’s soft around the edges. “Well, we wish you luck, then,” Ryan says. Jon nods alongside him. He can feel the moment when the tension breaks and dissolves, when Brendon’s whole body relaxes. Ryan’s good feelings about their decision are mostly due to Dallon being classified as a touring member of Panic and not a full member, but Ryan feels okay, like maybe the wound is closing, like knowing your ex is dating other people but still being happy for them.

A strange middle ground is created at Brendon’s place. There’s talking. They pile into Brendon’s living room and smoke up. Dallon doesn’t smoke, but Brendon sits next to him and needles him until he’s willing to take a hit from their bowl. Getting Brendon and Dallon high together is a bad idea. Brendon breaks out his laptop and the two of them watch video after video on YouTube. Dallon has his own collection of favorites and Brendon bounces excitedly, telling Ryan and Jon that they have to see the videos, too.

Ryan is a little surprised to see how well Dallon is fitting in with Brendon and Spencer already. Dallon fits well with Brendon in particular. It’s obvious that Dallon and Brendon share the same sense of humor. They gel together. Brendon leans against Dallon and giggles like an idiot, Spencer watching them with nothing short of fondness in his eyes. Ryan can see the space that Dallon is filling. He sees Dallon fitting with Brendon in a way that Ryan never had the tolerance to achieve.

It doesn’t hurt. Brendon has always been Ryan’s friend, but there were too many differences from the start, too much tension. Ryan sees that Dallon fits here. Spencer seems at ease, too, the worry gone from his face. Spencer doesn’t have to worry about Dallon in the same way he has to worry about Ryan. Spencer can relax, which is all Ryan’s wanted since the accident.

At some point - Ryan isn’t sure when because he’s warm next to Jon and comfortably high - Brendon and Dallon slip away from the group. Neither Jon nor Spencer seems to notice or pay much mind, so Ryan doesn’t, either.

“You okay?” Spencer asks. “About Dallon, I mean?” Ryan had been focused on the movie playing on Spencer’s TV, but he looks up at Spencer.

“Where’s Jon?” Ryan asks instead of answering Spencer. He’s only just noticing that Jon isn’t sitting on the couch with them anymore.

“Bathroom, I think … but really I don’t want you to be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Ryan says. “I have new band members and now you do, too.”

Spencer watches Ryan for a moment. It looks like he has something he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his attention to the TV. When Jon returns to the living room, he looks surprised. Ryan arches an eyebrow, silently asking him what’s wrong. Jon plops down next to Ryan on the couch and tucks his arm around Ryan’s waist.

“Everything alright?” Ryan asks, tucking his head in against Jon’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Ryan is comfortable and warm tucked in under Jon’s arm. He, Spencer, and Jon split another bowl.

“Shouldn’t we get Brendon for this?” Jon asks. Spencer laughs and takes a hit.

“Nah, it’s his loss.”

Ryan laughs into Jon’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He hasn’t been doing half of the drug-related shit he used to do, so the weed plus the medication he’s taking makes his buzz that much more, makes Ryan soft and sleepy. He falls asleep on the couch, curled in with Jon.

The next time Ryan wakes up, he’s alone in the living room. He can feel a breeze rolling in from Brendon’s open doors. Voices drift in with the warm breeze. Ryan sits himself up and follows the sound. The closer to the door that Ryan gets, the better he can hear and he realizes with a start that one of the voices belongs to Spencer. The other isn’t Jon or Brendon, so that leaves Dallon.

Ryan peeks through the glass doors to the backyard. He sees Dallon and Spencer standing together. They’re facing the pool. To Ryan’s surprise, Spencer is leaning back against Dallon, Dallon’s arms wrapped around Spencer’s middle. It doesn’t look like the friendly sort of touching they’ve all done before … this looks intimate, like Ryan shouldn’t be seeing it.

“Do your friends like me?” Ryan hears Dallon say.

Spencer laughs. “Well, they’re still here, so that’s a good sign.”

Ryan hears Dallon hum. His palms are open over Spencer’s stomach, fingers brushing Spencer’s hips. He nuzzles the back of Spencer’s neck. Ryan didn’t think … he thought if this was going to happen, then it’d be Spencer and Brendon. “So I get the seal of approval, then. No one can resist the ol’ Weekes charm.”

Spencer snorts. “Keep talking like that and I won’t be quite as charmed anymore.”

Dallon hooks his chin over Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer turns his head. Dallon meets him halfway. Suddenly, they’re kissing. Ryan really shouldn’t be watching, but he sees their mouths slide together and there is nothing timid or unfamiliar about it.

Ryan hears other voices now - Jon and Brendon - and shuffles away from the door as fast as he can, heading back to the couch. Jon and Brendon emerge from the hallway, both of them holding boxes in their hands. “You’re awake,” Jon says. Ryan nods.

“What’s all that?” Ryan asks, pointing to the boxes.

“Oh, Brendon found some stuff. He thought we might want it.”

“Oh,” Ryan says. “Thanks, Brendon.”

Brendon grins and bounces in place. “Hey, no problem. Zack’s been pestering me for weeks to ask you guys about it.”

“They’ve got some business stuff to do, so I’m going to put this in the trunk and then we’re going to take off, okay?” Jon says. Ryan nods and waves him off. He’s still caught up in what’s happening outside with Spencer and Dallon. He wonders why Spencer didn’t tell him or if Spencer is even going to tell him now that he knows about Ryan and Jon.

While Jon and Brendon are gone, Dallon and Spencer return from outside. They’re good at hiding it. No one’s mouth is red or bitten and neither of them is disheveled. Ryan wouldn’t know if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Spencer smiles and Dallon does, too. It’s weird to him how someone he doesn’t know much about at all has somehow climbed into such a high position with his best friend.

“You guys getting ready to go?” Spencer asks.

“Yeah, Jon said you guys had some business.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, nodding. “We’re gonna talk to some producers today.”

“I’m not going,” Dallon says. “In case, you know … you thought I was.” He trails off and scratches at the back of his neck. Spencer laughs at him and claps Dallon on the back, his hand lingering on Dallon’s shoulder blade just a beat too long.

Ryan nods uncertainly, thankful when Jon returns. Jon helps Ryan up from the couch. They gift Spencer and Brendon with careful hugs before they leave back for Ryan’s place. As soon as they leave, Ryan wants to tell Jon what he saw. He’s not sure if he should, but it’s not like Jon will say anything to anyone else.

“Hey,” Jon says before Ryan can decide whether or not to tell him. “Something weird happened today.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asks.

“When we were smoking up, I went to find Brendon to see if he and that Dallon guy wanted in on the bowl, and - ”Jon stalls for a moment.

“And what?”

“And I saw Brendon and Dallon making out,” Jon says with a shrug. “It was weird.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Pretty damn sure, Ryan. Brendon was all over him.”

Ryan doesn’t know what to think now. He rubs at his forehead. “That’s not possible,” Ryan says.

“Brendon being gay? Because that is really kinda very possible.”

“No, I saw - when you and Brendon were dicking around with those boxes; I saw Spencer and Dallon kissing.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“You don’t imagine something like that.”

“Well,” Jon says. “Well, what the fuck, then?”

“I don’t know! Do you think it’s possible that this Dallon guy is screwing around with both Brendon and Spencer and neither one of them know about the other?”

“How the hell would he manage that?” Jon asks, his forehead crinkling in thought.

“I’m telling Spencer what we saw,” Ryan says. He pats his side for his cell phone, but Jon reaches out to stop him.

“Wait! Maybe you shouldn’t. We shouldn’t get involved.”

“We should just let this guy cheat on them?”

“Let him fuck it up himself and get caught. It’s not really our business.”

Ryan wants to say that Spencer will always be his business, but maybe it isn’t. What if Spencer is the one in a relationship with Dallon and Dallon is cheating on him? What if Spencer is the cheatee? Ryan rests his head against his hand. He doesn’t know what to do. “Maybe you’re right,” Ryan says.

***

Jon’s been texting Tom about the trip to Chicago. They have their plans set to stay with him. There’s not a lot left to do in L.A. There are no schedules to stick to besides Ryan’s group meeting. Jon has their suitcases packed by Monday. Ryan is both uneasy and happy that Jon is so excited. He wants to believe he’s happy to be home and see Tom and Andy and his cats, but there’s a small part of him that’s scared that Jon’s excited to see Cassie, too.

Ryan is also nervous about Chicago. He’s not sure how he’ll fit with Jon’s friends now. He’s always felt like an outsider around Jon’s life in Chicago, like he was a piece that wasn’t meant there, but now he’s going and staying with Tom - who is the Spencer to Jon’s Ryan … Tom, who knew Jon when he was with Cassie. Now he’ll see Ryan in this new way and with his best friend. Ryan’s never had a problem with Tom, but he still never wants to incur his wrath.

Jon and Ryan leave for Chicago early Thursday morning. Jon loads up the suitcases that he packed for the two of them and drives them down the always-busy streets of downtown L.A. Ryan is more nervous than he expected himself to be. He touches at the long, empty sleeve of his right arm, fiddling with the loose cuff where his right wrist should be. This trip will be his first time really being out in the world with his new body. He’s scared of the staring, of what people might say, and for the first time in a long time, he’s absolutely hoping that no one will recognize him.

Jon seems to sense his anxiety. At a stoplight, he reaches over and touches Ryan’s knee, rubbing his thumb into the joint there. He smiles. “You’ll feel better when we get there,” Jon says. Ryan knows he’s pinning a lot of hopes on this trip. Maybe he thinks being out of L.A. will make Ryan more accepting of his new life or at least calm him down. Ryan smiles to ease Jon’s mind, but a thread of panic is alive inside of Ryan, tangled around his ribcage, knotted.

When they arrive in the parking lot of the airport, Jon digs inside the messenger bag he’s brought with him and hands Ryan a pill, a water bottle in his other hand, ready for when Ryan needs a drink. Ryan takes his medicine and swallows down some water, his stomach and throat feeling full, like he might burst. People are milling around everywhere. Ryan never realized how distant he had become to the public; how the only places he ever seemed to go these days were hospitals or Brendon’s place.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks. “We won’t go until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready and we miss our flight?” Ryan asks.

“Then we’ll book another when you are.”

Ryan shakes his head and messes with his hair. He can’t hide forever … he doesn’t want to. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Ryan says. Jon nods and slips from the car. Ryan follows behind him. Jon collects their luggage. His hands are full, so Ryan slips Jon’s messenger bag around his shoulder. A part of him is hoping that the bag will deflect some of the attention, maybe trick people into missing the asymmetrical build of his body.

The further into the sea of bustling people that Ryan and Jon walk, the calmer Ryan becomes. He forgot about being a face in a crowd, too many people rushing to catch their flight or arrive at their gate to be concerned with whether or not Ryan’s right side looks ‘normal’ to them. The actual plane ride might be different, but for now, things seem alright. Jon leads them to the front desk and picks up the tickets he’s had on hold. The woman at the desk gives them a once-over. Ryan is careful. He stands behind Jon so that half his body is covered, so that she couldn’t see even if she wanted to. Jon nods at the woman. She smiles at them as they head to their gate.

Jon checks in their luggage. They’re turning everything over except for the messenger bag, which has Ryan’s meds in it. Jon makes to take the bag from Ryan, but he shakes his head. “I’ll hold on to it,” Ryan says. “I can.”

“Okay, you hold on to it. How are you feeling?” Jon asks.

“I feel like everyone is looking at me.”

Jon glances around them. Ryan bites his lip. He’s being ridiculous. He’s far from the first amputee to ever travel or been seen. He’s not an oddity, but he’s been in enough situations to know that usually people stare if only for a second. They may look away to be politically correct or polite, but it’s human nature to be curious and people do stare. Jon’s gaze settles back on Ryan.

“No one is staring,” Jon tells him. “If they were staring, it’d be more likely due to the fact that I’m holding your hand more than anything else.”

Ryan smiles. “Do you want to hold my hand?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jon says. He reaches out and takes Ryan’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. If Ryan’s going to be stared at, he’d rather it happen because of something positive, because he’s with someone who makes him happy. With their hands locked, it’s impossible for Ryan to hide behind Jon as they walk. Fear bubbles in his chest, but Jon is smoothing his thumb along the back of Ryan’s hand as they walk to their gate. It’s enough to keep Ryan centered - this is something Ryan has to do.

Ryan can feel the weight of people’s glances on him as he and Jon wait for their flight to be boarded, but he can’t tell if people are staring because of his arm (or lack thereof) or because he and Jon are holding hands. Ryan really misses his other hand right now. He’d like to hold Jon’s hand and be able to fix the tie he’s wearing, or touch at the brim of the hat he has on.

Eventually, he does let go of Jon’s hand. Their palms are sweating. Ryan wipes his hand on his dress pants before he fixes his tie and touches his hat. He looks at Jon. “How do I look? Presentable for Lady Chicago?”

“You’re the best-looking guy in the terminal. Chicago will be lucky to have you,” Jon says. He leans in and touches at Ryan’s elbow. “I’m lucky to have you,” he adds, much quieter than before. Ryan flushes a little and laughs, straightening his already-straightened tie.

“That’s true. I’m quite the catch. Everyone is dying to date one-armed musicians, didn’t you know? It’s all the rage.”

“One arm or both arms, I wouldn’t let anyone else have you,” Jon says firmly.

Ryan’s chest warms. He believes Jon - he’ll always believe Jon.

***

The flight is easier than Ryan’s imagined scenarios led him to believe. Shortly after he and Jon are seated, even before the plane takes off, Ryan dozes off. It’s a combination of his medication and the little amount of sleep he had had the night before. He settles his pillow against Jon’s shoulder and falls asleep.

The next time he wakes up, they’re in the sky, nearing Chicago. Jon is frowning at his phone.

“What’s wrong? Did a fan spot us at the airport? Have we been outed?” Ryan asks, still dazed from sleep.

Jon glances at Ryan before tapping out a response on his cell. “No,” he says. “No, I’m texting Tom.”

“You look upset. That’s not usually your default mode when it comes to Tom Conrad.”

“There was a family emergency in New York,” Jon says, smiling dryly at Ryan, “Something with Danielle. Tom is at the airport right now.”

“Oh,” Ryan says. He rubs at his eye with the palm of his hand. He can’t say he’s too disappointed. He’d like to see Tom, too, but maybe after everything is settled. “What do we do now?”

“Well, he said we could stay at his place. We’ve gotta go get the key from Ryan or Sean - Tom isn’t sure who has it.” Jon sounds exasperated, but fondly so. He’s more than used to Tom by now. Ryan knows that nothing he does surprises Jon anymore. “I’d been hoping to see him, though.”

Ryan feels bad for the little glimmer of relief he had at not seeing Tom. Jon wanted to see him. Jon misses him. “Maybe,” Ryan says around a yawn. “Maybe after Chicago, we can go to New York and impose on him there.”

Jon laughs and rests his head on top of Ryan’s pillowed one. “Maybe.”

***

Prior to the trip to Chicago, Jon had promised Ryan good weather. Ryan was stupid enough to believe him. The instant they step into the O’Hare airport baggage claim, they’re greeted by thick, dark storm clouds and sheets of chilly rain.

“What happened to that warm Chicago spring?” Ryan asks as he peers out the windows of the airport at the constant downfall. He can’t even remember the last time it had rained in L.A.

“This sort of is a Chicago spring,” Jon says sheepishly. “Let me buy you an umbrella to make up for it.” Jon buys them an umbrella from the gift shop. It’s large and has the word Chicago on it in large, white lettering. “I feel like a tourist with this thing,” Jon balks. He’d called Sean sometime between landing in Chicago and buying the umbrella. Sean agreed to pick them up from the airport and give them the key to Tom’s apartment.

Jon and Ryan wait outside the airport with the umbrella open even though they’re standing under the metal awning of the airport, their luggage at their feet. Ryan shivers. “I’m sure the rain will let up soon,” Jon says unconvincingly. Ryan is sure he’s going to be living in hoodies for the next few days. Eventually, Jon spots Sean’s car chugging around the turn and heading for them. The closer Sean gets, the clearer Ryan can make out Empires’ Ryan sitting in the passenger-side seat.

“Gentlemen!” Ryan J says as he gets out of the car and takes Jon’s luggage before Jon can even protest. “I see Chicago pulled out all the stops in welcoming you back.” He laughs, rumbling and pleasant, and Ryan feels himself relax next to Jon.

“Feels like home,” Jon says with a laugh.

“Sean,” Luciani calls, pounding on the trunk of the car with his fist. “Open the trunk.”

“Sometimes it gets stuck!” Sean shouts through the hiss of rain. “Try it again.”

Luciani is getting soaked in the constant rain, but the trunk finally opens and he shoves Jon’s luggage inside. Jon doesn’t make him come back for the second piece of luggage. He takes it to the trunk himself, the rain pouring on him and making his t-shirt stick to his shoulders.

“You get in the car, Ryan,” Jon tells him. Ryan nods and adjusts the messenger bag on his shoulder as he opens the door closest to the curb. Ryan sits behind the passenger seat and listens to Jon slam the trunk before he goes to the other side to sit behind Sean. Raindrops cling to the tips of Jon’s hair, running down his face in small rivulets. Ryan reaches out and wipes away a few stray droplets from Jon’s cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“How long is the rain going to stick around for?” Ryan asks.

Sean smiles at Ryan in the rearview mirror. “Papers say all week.”

Ryan frowns at Jon. “You promised warm weather.”

“Chicago is an unpredictable beast. I can’t be blamed.”

“So you two are going to Tom’s, right? Ryan, give them the key,” Sean says as he pulls out of the airport’s parking lot. Ryan J laughs and pats his jeans pockets.

“I don’t have the key, Sean. Tom gave it to you.”

“No, he didn’t,” Sean says. He checks his jacket pockets at the next stoplight. Ryan glances at Jon. He’s not used to hanging out with the Chicago crew, but Jon doesn’t seem worried. “Oh, wait, I do have it. Here, Jon,” Sean says, tossing the key over his shoulder to Jon, who catches it in his hands.

“You two are going to die without Max around, aren’t you?”

“We made it this far, didn’t we?” Luciani says.

Jon laughs. Ryan does, too. He feels comfortable. No one is looking at him strangely and there’s no heavy weight of the unspoken topic in the car. Ryan figures it’s because Sean and Ryan J are just happy to see Jon - really, they’re just happy people in general. Ryan feels lighter, like the chains of people who do know too much about him have been lifted. He knows that Ryan J and Sean know, too, but it’s different. They’re not focused exclusively on him like most people in Ryan’s life are these days.

The ride to Tom’s apartment is comfortable. Ryan drinks in Jon, Luciani, and Sean’s conversation. They mostly talk about Empires, Sean and Ryan J babbling excitedly about their new songs and the tour they hope to go on soon. It’s nice. Ryan is honestly happy for them. When they get to Tom’s place, Sean parks his car outside the building and helps them get their luggage. Ryan steps out of the car and opens his umbrella before walking to where Jon is pulling out one of their suitcases. Ryan stands next to Jon so they’re both covered by the umbrella. The four of them press inside the lobby of Tom’s apartment building. Ryan can’t close the umbrella - the button and switch needed to close it are too far apart for him to operate one-handed. Sean and Jon don’t notice, but Luciani does. He smiles at Ryan before he asks, “Can I?” Ryan nods and relinquishes the umbrella to him.

Luciani closes the umbrella and then tucks it under his arm. “We Ryans have gotta look out for each other,” he says, motioning for Ryan to follow Jon into the rickety elevator. The four of them pile into the tight space of the elevator even though it seems like it’s not strong enough to support the four of them. The luggage is stacked between them, creating a small wall separating Jon and Ryan from Sean and the other Ryan. Ryan leans back against Jon, his back against Jon’s chest. He just wants to feel Jon there, sturdy and solid. Jon slides his hand under Ryan’s blazer and touches his hip. Ryan doesn’t need to look at Jon to know he’s smiling.

The elevator stops on the fourth floor and they pile out of the confined space. “I think we got it from here, guys,” Jon says when they reach Tom’s apartment. “We’re pretty beat. We’ll probably just catch some sleep for now.”

Sean nods. “Well, you should come hang out tomorrow -or, hell, tonight if you wake up in time!”

“Come by the studio,” Luciani says, rocking on his heel. It reminds Ryan of Brendon a little.

“Maybe,” Jon says. “I’ll give you guys a call.”

Ryan and Sean nod in unison. Sean catches Jon in a hug and, much to Ryan’s surprise, leans over and gives Ryan one, too. “See you dudes later,” Sean says, pointing his two index fingers at Jon and Ryan. Luciani waves to them. Jon laughs and unlocks the door.

“I hope you didn’t do that on my account,” Ryan says once Sean and the other Ryan depart.

Jon pockets the key and picks up the suitcases, one in each hand. “I didn’t sleep on the plane,” Jon says. “I figured we’d eat and just laze around, snooping through Tom’s shit until tomorrow. Maybe the rain will let up by then.”

Ryan shuffles into the apartment. It’s cold. Ryan suddenly remembers something about Tom’s apartment having shoddy heating most of the time. It smells like Tom, which isn’t a good or bad smell … just Tom. Jon abandons the suitcases in the middle of the living room.

“Did you pack a hoodie?” Ryan asks. He really hopes Jon did.

“You’re cold already?” Jon asks. “You wouldn’t last a minute in the winter.”

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Ryan says.

“I did.” Jon digs through his suitcase, disheveling a few shirts and boxers before finally pulling out a hoodie. He doesn’t hand it to Ryan; instead, he unzips it and goes to stand behind Ryan, draping it over Ryan’s shoulders, helping him put it on before he moves to the front again and zips it up for him.

“You’re much more romantic than I ever gave you credit for,” Ryan says. “I need to step up my game.”

Jon curls his hand around the side of Ryan’s neck, thumb rubbing behind his ear. “You have lots of time to catch up. For now let’s get some grub and then sleep it off.”

Ryan tucks his hand into the empty space of the pocket of Jon’s hoodie, reveling in the smell of Jon’s cologne and sweat that’s embedded in the fabric. He nods. “It sounds good.”

Part six