Asymmetrical (Part seven)

[pinkichan]

Back at Tom’s apartment, Ryan’s just waking up from a nap (Jon thought taking one would help him relax and put him in a better mood). He stumbles out into the living room to find Jon lying on Tom’s beaten-up couch, Dylan and Clover spooning above his head. Ryan sleepily pads over to Jon, who may or may not be asleep, and lowers himself down on top of him, his body spreading farther than Jon’s does.

Ryan rests his head on Jon’s chest, ear to Jon’s heart. He listens to the steady beat, tapping his fingertips against Jon’s bicep, following the rhythm. Jon shifts under Ryan and his hand moves to the back of Ryan’s stump, stroking over his tattoo again. Ryan wriggles on top of Jon until he can barely reach Jon before he kisses Jon’s slack mouth. He kisses him again when Jon doesn’t respond right away.

“You’re feeling better,” Jon says once he opens his eyes. Above them, the cats stretch and yawn and blink in Ryan’s direction. Ryan sets his head back on Jon’s chest.

“Yeah, I do.”

Jon moves his hands to rest on Ryan’s lower back, hands dipping into the back of Ryan’s sweatpants, petting at the skin there. Ryan slides his mouth down to kiss at Jon’s jaw as Jon’s hands creep lower to rest outside of Ryan’s boxers, cupping his ass. Ryan’s body tingles pleasantly as Jon’s hands knead his ass. His hips roll down to brush Jon’s.

“You want to go to the bedroom?” Jon asks. Ryan nods against Jon’s neck.

Ryan scoots off of the couch and offers his hand to Jon, curling his fingers tight around Jon’s hand to help pull him up. Jon tugs him in, bringing him close and kissing him, pressing up on his toes to get a better shot at Ryan’s mouth. Jon is more familiar with the layout of Tom’s apartment, so he sets his hands at Ryan’s waist and guides them to the guest room.

They collapse - Jon on his back and Ryan on top of him, elbow digging into the mattress. Ryan likes being on top, looking down at Jon, whose cheeks and neck are flushed. Ryan kisses Jon, dipping in to brush their mouths together. He wants to touch at Jon’s body, but he can’t with his hand planted in the mattress. Ryan shifts and sits above Jon’s knees, hand touching the hem of Jon’s shirt.

“You should take this off,” Ryan says. He fingers the material of Jon’s shirt. Jon nods and sits up long enough to strip his own shirt. Ryan hates that, too - he can’t undress Jon the way he wishes he could. He can’t drink in Jon’s skin with his hands. He’s limited even in this. Jon’s shirtless, though, and Ryan lets his mouth drift down the line of Jon’s chest, tongue flickering over hardened nipples. Ryan’s hand smoothes over as much tanned, finely-muscled skin as it can.

“Let me take your shirt off,” Jon says from beneath Ryan. He nods his approval and raises his arm so that Jon can pull his t-shirt up and off. Jon smoothes both of his palms up Ryan’s chest, fingers dancing across his skin, and rubbing over his nipples. Ryan shivers and rocks his hips forward. He’s starting to get hard again.

Ryan’s hand drifts to Jon’s jeans. His fingers struggle with the button, but he doesn’t ask for help. It takes longer than it normally would, but Ryan pops the button and gets down the zipper before he lets his hand dip inside of Jon’s jeans. He touches Jon’s cock, feeling him getting hard. He watches Jon while he touches his dick. Jon gasps and rolls his hips against Ryan’s hand. Ryan takes his hand away. Jon groans because of the loss. Ryan dips his hands into the fold of Jon’s jeans, trying to tug them down his thighs. He wants more skin.

He can’t do it on his own, though, so Jon takes the hint. Ryan backs up to sit on the bed between Jon’s spread legs so that Jon can kick off his own jeans. “Boxers?” Jon asks. Ryan nods. Jon gets those down, too, and now he’s naked, his body spread out in front of Ryan.

Ryan touches Jon’s ankle and then slides further up, claiming tiny inches of skin, feeling Jon like this for the first time. It doesn’t feel like enough - he wants all of Jon. He wants both of his hands touching Jon, exploring him, and it hurts deep inside of him to know without a doubt that he’ll never have that now.

“I wish,” Ryan starts once he’s settled on top of Jon, sitting above his knees but below his rapidly hardening dick. “I wish I could’ve learnt your body with both my hands. I wish I could’ve memorized you with both palms. I wish I hadn’t waited so long to feel you, Jon.” Ryan touches Jon’s hip, swirling his fingers against skin that’s paler than the rest of him.

Jon sits himself up, his cock brushing Ryan’s jean-covered thigh. Jon hisses. His hands cup the back of Ryan’s shoulders, bending him forward so that he can kiss Ryan, snaking his tongue inside of Ryan’s mouth. “I love you,” Jon says. It’s the first time he’s ever said it to Ryan. It’s the first time Ryan’s truly felt it in regards to Jon. “I love you just like this.” He takes Ryan’s wrist and brings Ryan’s hand to his mouth, kissing the center of his palm.

“I love you, too,” Ryan says quickly, flushing and drawing his hand back from Jon’s mouth. “And you should take my pants off.”

“Yeah?” Jon asks. Ryan nods and Jon grins. “I can do that.”

Jon strips Ryan of his pants and pulls Ryan back down to him so that they’re both naked, skin meeting skin. Ryan isn’t fully hard, but Jon brings his hand between them to touch at Ryan’s dick, his palm dry but nice. Ryan’s breath hitches pleasantly, his hips rocking against Jon’s hand as Jon strokes him.

Jon touches him carefully, thumb rubbing under the head of his dick.

“Am I?” Ryan starts. He feels turned on, but he doesn’t know if it’s translating.

“Not yet,” Jon says. He kisses Ryan’s neck. “Come on,” he says. “Get hard for me.”

“I want to,” Ryan says. “I want to so badly.”

Jon’s still stroking him. “Does it feel good? I could blow you like before.”

“Yeah, it’s good. I just - I don’t know. When I got hard before, I wasn’t thinking of myself. I was thinking of you and the way you looked on top of me. I can’t think of myself. I - I don’t like how I look,” Ryan admits. He’d been mulling over why Jon’s second blowjob worked as opposed to the first and this is the answer he presented himself.

Jon’s hand stills on his cock. He looks into Ryan’s eyes. “That’s the problem? You’re thinking of your own body?”

Ryan nods and tips his head against Jon’s shoulder, shifting so that the two of them are impossibly close, their naked cocks brushing together, Jon’s hand caught somewhere in the middle. “I wonder how you can even touch me with how I look: too thin, missing an arm, ruined, ugly.”

Jon’s hands find Ryan’s face. He pulls Ryan’s head up so their eyes meet. “You are beautiful. You don’t need to wonder why I’m here. I’m here because I love every inch of you, every scar and flaw and imperfection. I want to be with you.” Jon kisses Ryan sweetly, “Okay?” he asks. Ryan nods, helpless and close to crying with how much he loves Jon.

“Okay,” he says. Jon’s hand drifts back between them. Ryan focuses on how Jon looks as he jerks Ryan’s cock, getting him hard. Ryan focuses on the slick head of Jon’s cock brushing his stomach as they move together. Slowly but surely, Ryan grows hard. Once it starts, it doesn’t stop. Soon, he’s panting in Jon’s ear, surprising himself when he says, “I want you to fuck me.”

Jon nods and catches Ryan’s mouth in a kiss before he props himself up against the headboard. Ryan shifts until he’s in Jon’s lap, his knees on either side of Jon’s warm thighs. He’s nervous. He’s never been fucked, but he can’t think of a better person to experience it with than Jon. “You never?” Jon asks, mirroring the thoughts that are going through Ryan’s head. Ryan shakes his head. “I never.”

“Okay,” Jon says. “I’ll be careful.” Jon reaches away from Ryan to the little nightstand next to the bed. Jon digs around a little and Ryan quirks an eyebrow when Jon returns with lube and condoms in his hand. “I wanted to be prepared just in case,” Jon says sheepishly.

“Good idea.” Ryan laughs. He calms down a little. It’s just Jon. It’s just the two of them here and Jon will take care of him like he always does. Jon pops the cap of the lube and wets two of his fingers. Ryan shifts on his knees and presses his ass back a little. Jon kisses Ryan as he lowers his hand, his two fingers rubbing slick over Ryan’s hole. Ryan groans into Jon’s mouth and Jon keeps kissing him as he presses one inside. Ryan’s never been fucked in the ass by anyone, but he has experimented before. Z was big on ass play and she has fingered him a few times in the past, enough times that the pain isn’t brand new. Jon’s fingers are different from Z’s, though: wider, thicker, rougher. He feels the stretch more with just two of Jon’s fingers than he ever did with three of Z’s.

Ryan grunts, breaking the kiss to set his forehead against Jon’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” Jon asks, his fingers stilling inside of Ryan. “I’m okay. I’m good. Just don’t stop, okay? Keep going.” Jon kisses the side of Ryan’s head before his fingers begin moving inside of him. It’s a little uncomfortable, but Jon blindly hits Ryan’s good spots, the spots that make him press back for more and rocking his hips forward against Jon.

Jon gets a third finger inside of Ryan. Ryan pants against Jon’s skin. Jon stretches Ryan out slow and careful, his slick fingers pressing in and opening Ryan up. The pain fades enough that Ryan feels like he needs more, like he’s ready to have Jon inside of him.

“Jon, I think you should. I want you to fuck me now,” Ryan says. Jon’s fingers still work inside of Ryan, slow and teasing; the way it feels is driving Ryan up the wall. He lifts his head to meet Jon’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” Jon asks.

“Yes - ” he groans when Jon crooks his finger and brushes Ryan’s prostate. “Yes, god, I’m ready.”

“Fuck, fuck, okay. As long as you’re sure?”

“I’m sure, Jon. I’m so sure.” Ryan presses back, fucking himself on Jon’s fingers to prove his point. Jon swears under his breath and nods. Slowly, he draws his fingers out of Ryan. He laments the loss and feels suddenly so empty that he’s dying to be full again. He touches his damp fingers on Ryan’s thighs before he opens the condom. Ryan wants to put the condom on Jon, but as it is, he can’t even open the package on his own. Jon goes for the lube again and wets his hand once more before he wraps his fingers around himself, slicking his condom-covered shaft.

“You want to do it like this?” Jon asks, his voice tight as he strokes himself.

“Yeah, yeah, like this,” Ryan says. He lets Jon touch him and arrange him so the head of his cock is brushing against Ryan’s hole. Ryan shivers and presses back, Jon’s cock slipping against Ryan’s ass, rubbing between his cheeks. Jon gets a hold of himself and watches Ryan’s face as Ryan slowly begins to press down. In this position, he’ll have most of the control. Not that Ryan thinks that Jon wouldn’t stop if he asked him to, but it’s nice to know he controls how much he takes, how fast he moves.

Jon’s cock isn’t huge, but it is thick and hurts worse than Jon’s fingers had. Ryan sinks down inch by inch, and Jon kisses his throat and neck, comforting Ryan until Jon is fully seated inside of him. “Shit, Ryan, shit, you feel amazing,” Jon mutters. Ryan pulls in mouthfuls of air, trying to catch his breath and get used to Jon inside of him. He feels so full that it already feels like too much, but he wants Jon, wants to feel Jon moving inside of him.

Jon starts moving first, little presses of his hips rolling up that make his cock inch in and out of Ryan. On Ryan’s end, he shifts a little, rocking back and forth. Jon’s cock is barely fucking into him, but it’s already good. Ryan bites his lip and spreads his knees. Ryan hooks his arm around Jon’s neck as the two of them build up a slow rhythm. Ryan pulls up off of Jon’s cock, though not all the way; the head of Jon’s dick is still inside of Ryan. Jon’s hands move to Ryan’s hips, holding on tight. Jon doesn’t control Ryan’s movements, but he helps Ryan sink back down on to Jon’s dick.

“Oh, god,” Ryan moans, pressing his face against Jon’s neck. He rides Jon slowly, moving so slow that he can feel every inch of Jon entering him. Jon fucks up into Ryan from underneath him, moving his hips up in small jerks. He does it when his cock is buried completely inside of Ryan, when they can’t get any closer, and then he presses up. His dick brushes against Ryan’s prostate and it’s even better than before with Jon’s fingers.

Ryan tangles his fingers into the hair at the nape of Jon’s neck. He’s thankful that Jon’s hair is still long enough to do that. They’re rocking together in a slow rhythm. Ryan holds on to Jon and Jon to Ryan and they move together like they’ve become one person. They’re quiet together, not a lot of noise besides their grunts and groans and the slick sound of Jon’s cock fucking into Ryan.

Their faces are only inches apart. Jon watches Ryan’s every reaction, making sure he’s still comfortable, that he still enjoys it. It should be embarrassing watching Jon watch him while they fuck, but it’s not. He can’t stop watching the little lines of tension on Jon’s face when he works his hips up and Ryan squeezes himself around Jon’s cock. He moves to kiss Jon messily, their teeth clicking. Their kissing quickly dissolves into panting into each other’s mouths.

Ryan feels so good, so full and complete. Ryan is completely open for Jon now; there isn’t a single part of him anymore that Jon hasn’t seen or touched or laid witness to. He’s happy that they can do this together, that they can fuck, that Ryan can trust Jon with doing this. Ryan’s not the type to get all mushy during sex, but even if he doesn’t tell Jon right now, he feels it. He buries his face in Jon’s neck and mouths the words against Jon’s skin.

Ryan wants it to last forever, but what they’re doing is definitely new to him, and he feels his orgasm not too far off. He reaches between them and squeezes at his cock, realizing with a start just how close he is despite his dick not getting more action than brushing against Jon’s stomach. Ryan squeezes the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm.

Jon nuzzles his throat. “You’re close?” he asks. Jon’s voice has that beautiful, deep edge to it. Ryan groans and nods. “I am.”

“Okay,” Jon says. “Come for me, Ryan, come for me.”

Jon knocks Ryan’s hand away and curls his own around Ryan’s shaft, squeezing and jerking him off more frantic than they had fucked. Ryan is panting, body hunched. He rides Jon a little faster, his hips bucking to push into the tight circle of Jon’s hand. Jon is grunting. He’s still fucking Ryan while he jerks him off. He kisses behind Ryan’s ear as everything slams into Ryan all at once, stringing him out and exploding inside of him like bombs. He comes hard with a raw cry over Jon’s chest and stomach, over Jon’s fingers.

Ryan slumps against Jon, panting. Jon releases Ryan’s dick and holds Ryan’s hips as he fucks into him. It’s quick, but Ryan doesn’t mind. It doesn’t hurt. Ryan wants to watch him, to see Jon’s face as he grows closer to the edge, but he can’t move, worn from his orgasm. His head is on Jon’s shoulder, so he listens instead. He feels when Jon buries himself inside of Ryan and grunts deep and gorgeous, more gorgeous than any grunt should ever sound, and comes.

They lie together like collapsed dolls, catching their breaths. Jon wraps his arms around Ryan, turning them and sliding out of him. Ryan whines from the loss. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s still strung out from his orgasm. Jon cuddles Ryan and kisses him. Jon curls around Ryan, spooning him. “You meant it?” Ryan mutters before he drifts off. All traces of anger from earlier that day have vanished from him. He feels nothing but sated, warm, and loved.

“Meant what?” Jon murmurs against Ryan’s shoulder.

“That you love me. That you think I’m beautiful. You meant that?”

Jon’s arms squeeze around Ryan. “Of course I meant it. I’ll always mean it. I love you, Ryan.”

Ryan takes Jon’s hand in his hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing Jon’s fingers. “I love you, too.”

***

The next day, Ryan is sore - the best kind of sore he’s ever been, better than being sore from living through an accident or losing your arm. He likes being sore from having Jon inside of him.

Today, it isn’t raining, which shocks Ryan. He kind of misses the constant hiss that he’s come to associate with Chicago. Jon and Ryan go to Max’s studio to visit Sean and the other Ryan. Despite the absence of rain, the sidewalks are still stained wet and filled with puddles. Ryan has to watch where he’s going so that he doesn’t ruin his shoes. He and Jon hold hands as they walk up the street to the makeshift studio where Max and Empires work. Jon smiles at Ryan and holds the door open for him after he knocks on it, signaling to Sean and Ryan that they’ve arrived. Ryan slips in through the door and goes down the narrow, small set of stairs to the basement. Luciani is sitting on the couch and Sean is sitting in a recliner next to the couch, a guitar in his lap. It’s refreshing to be around other musicians, to be around music in general.

“Hey, you made it!” Sean says. “And it’s not raining. Must be a sign of a good day.”

“And not just Chicago being unpredictable,” Luciani says with a laugh.

“Anyway, come and sit. You guys want to hear some demos?” Sean asks. After spending enough time with Empires, he’s come to know that Sean is passionate about music, almost obsessively so. Ryan sits down at the end of the couch and Jon sits down next to Luciani.

“Fuck, yeah! Tom won’t stop raving about the shit you guys are doing,” Jon says. Sean and Ryan J both laugh.

“Sounds just like him.”

Sean goes to the computer and clicks around on a few things until a song starts playing. It’s brash at first, lots of heavy guitars and drums, and it takes a while for Sean’s voice to start but once it does its powerful, intense and Ryan is impressed. Empires may not be his style exactly but he enjoys the music they make and he’s more than happy to listen to them make it.

The four of them sit around and listen to a few demos. Sean dips and bobs and Ryan J pats his hand against his thigh to the drumline of the songs. “These are rough, don’t forget,” Sean says when a few pitches screw up. He smiles sheepishly at them.

“They’re amazing,” Ryan says. Sean practically lights up with pride.

“Yeah, well, Jon sent us some of the stuff that he’s working on, and that’s pretty amazing, too,” Sean says. He grins at Jon. Silence takes the room, swift and stifling. Ryan looks at Jon with an arched eyebrow.

“Our … the Young Veins demos?” Ryan asks, looking back at Sean.

“No, the stuff he did recently. His stuff,” Sean explains. Ryan looks back to Jon again.

“What stuff?” Ryan asks Jon, confused. Jon glances at Ryan and then looks past him to Sean.

“I didn’t tell him yet, Sean,” Jon stresses, his gaze slowly shifting back to Ryan.

“What stuff?” Ryan asks again as the tension in the room builds.

“I’ve been,” Jon sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I’ve been recording some solo stuff.”

The words feel like a punch to the gut, a twist to his heart, like his arm is burning. Ryan is taken aback. He doesn’t know what to say. Jon’s been recording music on his own. He did it without telling Ryan. He shared it with Sean and Tom before he shared it with Ryan. The pain is quick and intense, festering in his chest.

“Oh,” Ryan says.

“Ryan, I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t get around to it yet. It’s not - ”Jon trails off. Ryan waits for him to keep going, but he doesn’t. Ryan stands.

“I’m going to go get some air,” Ryan tells the room at large.

“Ryan, hey, don’t - ”Jon starts. Ryan doesn’t wait around to hear what he has to say before he heads upstairs and through the door. Ryan stands outside, leaning back against the building next to the studio. He feels like shit. He thought Jon knew what he was going through, that Jon understood the pain of not creating music anymore, but Jon’s been making music right under Ryan’s nose. The morning Ryan found Jon with the acoustic and GarageBand opened in the guest bedroom - he must’ve fallen asleep recording a song.

The door to the studio opens. Ryan doesn’t look to see who it is - he knows it’s Jon. “Ryan,” Jon says. “Okay, that was really unfortunate timing, but I was going to tell you.”

“When?” Ryan asks. “When your fucking solo album was finished?” Jon puts his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and turns Ryan around. Ryan shrugs off Jon’s hand and takes a step back. “I thought we were in this together!” Ryan snaps. “But you were making your own music. You barely let our old band die before you started something all on your own.”

“I was going to tell you when we got home.”

“When we got to L.A.,” Ryan corrects. “My home. This is your home.”

Jon frowns. “Ryan, I really was going to tell you. It’s not even a full album. It’s a few songs.”

“Oh, that makes it all better. I bet your guilt about the solo album is what made you want to take care of me,” Ryan says. “You wanted to take care of me because you felt bad and falling in love with me was just a nice bonus - or did you just fucking want to get laid?”

Jon looks wounded. Ryan feels smug in that aspect, at least. He wants Jon to feel as bad as he does right now. “You don’t really think that, do you?” Jon asks, hurt apparent in his voice. “I love you. I’m sorry this was sprung on you.”

“You should’ve told me!” Ryan shouts, his voice echoing around the street.

“I didn’t want to hurt you!” Jon shouts right back. “You had just gotten out of the hospital and I didn’t want to start off with that. Do you want to know what happened?” Jon asks.

Ryan sets his jaw tight. “Yeah,” he spits.

“I wrote the first song while you were in the hospital. I thought - fuck, Ryan, at the time, we didn’t know if you were going to live or not. I was scared every fucking day. I was terrified that you’d die and I’d lose you. I wrote the song because it’s all I could do, Ryan. After we knew you’d be okay, I kept the song. I wanted to keep it as a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

“Of how I almost lost you.”

“Are they all about me?” Ryan asks with less venom than before.

“Not all of them. Some of them are about Cassie and what happened with her. I know that I have no right to tell you how hard it was dealing with shit in my life because it’s a million times harder for you, but it was hard and I had to do something. I was hoping that eventually you’d become healed enough that I could tell you about the songs, that you’d want to hear them.”

Ryan looks down at his shoes. He’s standing in a puddle, but he doesn’t care. His anger is dissipating from him, like water evaporating in the midday sun. It’s hard to be mad at Jon when he understands him, when he remembers coming home after school and writing out every problem he had as a teenager, creating song after song. Even if he never intended on doing anything with the songs, he still needed them to exist.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says again. He steps up to Ryan, closing his arms around him. Jon’s fingers are warm through the button-up Ryan is wearing, his palm touching the small of his back. “I hated keeping it from you.”

“When we get home,” Ryan begins, he looks at Jon. “I want to hear it. The one about me.”

Jon’s hand tangles in Ryan’s hair and he touches the back of Ryan’s neck, stroking a finger down his skin. It’s a reminder of last night, which couldn’t feel more different than today. He’s mad at Jon, but Jon is also the same person who just had sex with him the night before, and it’s too hard having both of those images of Jon conflicting in his head.

“Okay. Just so you know, no one else has heard the one about you.”

“Good,” Ryan says. He leans into Jon’s touch.

“Sean’s sorry, too,” Jon says. He tucks his face into Ryan’s neck, rocking the two of them back and forth slowly. “He didn’t mean to upset you. He didn’t know.”

“I’d better go and tell him I’m not mad at him,” Ryan says into Jon’s shoulder. He lets himself be rocked. He feels weak after their argument, knees shaking. It’s strange to still be mad at Jon but also love him more than he’s ever loved anyone else in his life.

***

Ryan smoothes things over with Sean, assuring him that he’s not mad and that the whole thing was just unfortunate. When they’re good with each other, Jon and Ryan grab dinner and go back to Tom’s place to eat and then fall asleep with the cats. They’re going to be leaving Chicago the next afternoon. Jon goes down the street to wash Tom’s sheets while Ryan halfheartedly packs their suitcases up, Dylan following Ryan from one room to the next.

“Jon will be back soon,” Ryan tells Dylan as he kneels on the floor next to the suitcases, folding t-shirts and pants and setting them inside. Ryan can’t fold very well, but he doesn’t think Jon will mind. Dylan butts his head against Ryan’s hand and meows at him like he’s saying ‘I know that.’

That night, Jon, Ryan, and the cats are all asleep in the guest bedroom. Dylan curls against Ryan’s stomach and Clover wants to creep as close to Jon’s head as physically possible. It’s comfortable and warm and there’s only one word that Ryan can use to describe it.

Home.

***

It rains the day they leave Chicago. The city gave them only one reprieve from the constant storming, but Ryan isn’t angry. He feels a little like Chicago is sending him off in the fashion Ryan is accustomed to. Sean and Ryan drive them to the airport, hugging the two of them tight. Sean manages to squeak in one more apology before they head to their gate.

The cats are handed off to a worker at the airport and they check their luggage in. Jon and Ryan are quieter now, having come off their first fight as a couple - if a couple is what they can even be called. “We’re a couple, right?” Ryan asks Jon as they wait for their plane to start boarding.

Jon smiles at him. “I’d say so, yeah. Do you want to be a couple with me?”

Ryan looks at his and Jon’s joined hands. “Yeah, yeah, I do. We’re a couple.”

“You’re my boyfriend,” Jon says with a laugh. “You’re my first boyfriend.”

Ryan bumps his shoulder with Jon’s. “You’re my first boyfriend.”

“I do love you,” Jon says with an odd seriousness. “Don’t ever question that.”

“I love you, too. I mean it.”

This time, Jon sleeps on the flight, his head pillowed on Ryan’s shoulder while Ryan taps out text messages to Spencer.

***

L.A. is sunny and brilliant, a far cry from the gray, drizzling skies of Chicago.

“Welcome home,” Ryan tells Dylan and Clover as they load them into the backseat of Ryan’s car. Jon doesn’t seem sad. They’re alright. Ryan feels better being home. He wonders if this is how Jon feels when he’s in Chicago. If that’s the case, then he’s willing to make the trip back and forth every now and then.

Back at Ryan’s place, the two of them let the cats out for the first time. Clover refuses to come out of her carrier and Dylan keeps close to Jon and Ryan, sniffing the carpets and the couch hesitantly.

When they’re all settled, their suitcases still packed and resting in Ryan’s bedroom (Jon’s long since stopped sleeping in the guest bedroom), Ryan takes Jon’s hand. “I want to hear the song,” he tells Jon. He’s actually looking forward to it now that he’s had time to think about it. Ryan was always the one writing songs for the people he loved, never the other way around. He wants to hear Jon’s feelings set to music. Jon laces their fingers together and leads them to the guest bedroom. Ryan sits on the bed amongst his guitars while Jon loads up the laptop and GarageBand. He clicks a few things and then, slowly, a song starts playing.

The song opens with an acoustic; three seconds in, Jon starts singing, his voice open and honest. Ryan squeezes Jon’s hand as he listens. The song is about death and what happens after, as far as Ryan can tell, but it’s nice. The chorus is what he likes the most. Jon is singing a lullaby in a strange way, coaxing his subject to sleep, easing them into a painless dream. When the song is over, Ryan’s heart is aching. The song sounds like what would happen if Ryan had died in the accident, but its hopeful, too - hopeful because Ryan didn’t die.

Jon is tense as they listen. When the song is done, he looks at Ryan expectantly. “What did you think?”

“What’s it called?” Ryan asks.

“I’ve been calling it ‘Lullaby,’” Jon admits almost sheepishly.

“I love it,” Ryan says. He does. Jon wrote him a song. Jon wrote him a lullaby. Jon loves him. His chest feels so full he thinks his heart might explode.

“You do? Honest?” Jon asks.

Ryan nods and settles himself closer to Jon. “I really do. Were you thinking of making a solo album?” The subject is a little uncomfortable, but Ryan wants to know. Jon looks stricken, like his real answer will upset Ryan. He strokes his thumb against Jon’s hand.

“I considered it. I just wanted to do these songs, ‘Lullaby’ in particular.”

“I think you should do it. Not for a while, I mean, but you should record it,” Ryan says.

Jon looks surprised. “You think so?”

Ryan releases his hand from Jon’s and touches Jon’s face, opening his palm against Jon’s stubble-rough jaw. “I absolutely do, Jon. I want you to.” He can’t make music or play instruments, but Jon can, and he wants Jon to be able to. Who knows? Maybe when Ryan is ready, he and Jon can make an album of their own together. For now, though, he wants Jon to do this.

Jon leans in and kisses Ryan. “Listen,” Jon starts. “I’ve been doing some research and I think I’ve figured out a way for you to play the guitar.”

“How?” Ryan asks. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he wants to know what Jon has to say. Ryan’s heart is beating fast with the anticipation of the answer.

“We do it together,” Jon says. “You play the strings and I pluck the neck.”

“You think that would work?” Ryan asks. His hopes are still creeping high. It might not be him playing alone, but it’s him creating music - that’s reason enough to let his hopes soar. Jon nods and slips from the bed, picking up the acoustic leaning against the wall. Jon brings it back to the bed and sits down next to Ryan, their knees bumping. Jon adjusts the acoustic until the curve of it is resting against Ryan’s knee, the neck turned to face Jon.

Ryan can barely breathe from excitement. His fingers settle across the strings. Jon brings his right hand to the neck, his fingers curled over the strings there. “Play,” Jon tells Ryan quietly. It used to be the simplest thing in the world to ask of Ryan, but now it’s something special, something that Ryan prays will feel like it used to. Ryan’s fingers move over the strings, plucking them. The sharp sound echoes out. Jon moves his fingers at the neck of the guitar. It takes half a minute or so before they meet up and play something resembling a tune.

Ryan’s body is bursting with happiness and excitement. He’s not playing alone, but it’s enough. Something so simple has Ryan almost in tears. “See?” Jon says. “See, we can do it like this. We can play together.”

Ryan nods. He sobs embarrassingly loud and dry, his fingers stopping over the strings. He curls over the guitar and cries. Jon lets him, rubbing his back.

***

That night, Jon whispers to Ryan something he says he’s been waiting to tell him. “I want you to play ‘Lullaby’ with me on the album.”

“What? Are you - you want to record it?”

“Yeah,” Jon says, eyes glowing in the near-darkness of Ryan’s room. “I want us to play that one together, like earlier.” Ryan is quiet. Jon kisses his cheek, nosing the shell of his ear. “Will you do it?”

“Yes,” Ryan says. “Yes, I will.”

***

It takes a few days for Ryan to learn the song. In that time, he sits with Jon in the guest bedroom and listens to Jon record the other songs he’s written. “You must be the only person in the world with a song about his beard,” Ryan says, laughing at the printed-out lyrics sitting on the bed.

“Your jealousy of my facial hair is palpable,” Jon says. He strokes his bearded chin. Ryan listens to Jon record three songs - one about his beard, one about the Panic split, and one about Cassie. When Ryan is ready, they sit together on the bed, guitar settled between them. Ryan is nervous, more nervous than he thinks he’s ever been regarding music, rivaling the time he and Brendon played in Spencer’s grandma’s garage for Pete Wentz. Jon turns on the recorder and then he and Ryan begin the song.

Ryan swallows. His fingers move over the strings in time with Jon’s. They’re good at working together, moving seamlessly. Jon starts singing. Ryan has to concentrate harder to stay focused on his notes. They don’t get it in the first take. Jon messes up, so they do it again. The next time, Ryan messes up. Jon kisses the side of Ryan’s head and says, “It’s okay. Calm down.”

Ryan nods shakily and he and Jon start again. The fourth time, they nail it. Jon flips off the recorder before he sets down the guitar and wraps Ryan in a hug. “You were amazing,” Jon says, catching Ryan’s mouth in a kiss. “You’re so amazing.”

“You’re going to give me a big head,” Ryan jokes.

“You had one when I met you,” Jon teases, kissing Ryan again. They lay on the guest bed. “Imagine when the solo album comes out,” Jon says. “Your name will be right there with mine in the credits, right where it belongs.”

Ryan pushes his hand through Jon’s hair. He’s happy, honestly happy. He sort of never thought he would be happy again, but he is. He knows things won’t be perfect, that all of his problems can’t be solved just because he’s in a relationship now, but things will be easier. It’s easier to live when you have someone to live for. Jon introduced music back to him, love back to him. In a way, Jon brought him back to life. He feels like a different person yet again: a full person, happy and in love.