D:
Ryan avoids Spencer's gaze. That's how Spencer's sure Ryan's lying, but Spencer doesn't need that confirmation; he's known Ryan for long enough to know that this sudden - thing over Brendon isn't little or inconsequential or insignificant or any of the words that even remotely mean this, them, could all be okay.
"I just need a break from Brendon now, okay?" Ryan says, finally, long enough after the pause and reluctant enough that it feels like the truth.
"What do I tell Brendon?" Spencer gets to the point, because he's tired of weaving through yet another tangled web of Ryan's relationships. He's tired of buffering Brendon and Ryan whenever they meet to write music, because Ryan just closes up, refuses to show his lyrics to Brendon and offering only half-hearted attempts at commenting on his songs and basically just being an asshole during writing sessions, to the point that they haven't written a single song in over a fortnight, while Brendon keeps shooting alternately confused and miserable looks at him, and Spencer doesn't at all see how this is going to work out.
He thinks this is why they have never gotten trapped sticky-sweet between Ryan's intense words that promised the world and the harsh ambivalence of his intentions that just draws people in like honey, have always skirted dangerously around the edge, because Spencer has never had enough patience to decipher Ryan's meanings behind the layers and layers of carefully wrapped words, even though they seemed to suck everyone else in.
Ryan flinches. "You don't have to tell Brendon anyway," he tries. "It's not about him at all, I just -"
"Stop saying that." Spencer says evenly, betraying nothing of the sudden flash of anger that clenches hard behind his teeth. "Stop saying it's not about him, because that's not true, is it? Brendon's the only one you ignore during those writing sessions. You're alright with Jon. You're perfectly fine with me - even though right now that sentiment only goes one way, that I can tell you, Ryan."
Ryan doesn't say anything; misery lends his drawn, pale face a kind of pensive weariness that would look good in a black-and-white still shot; Jon would like to capture it, Spencer thinks. He wishes Jon was here.
"I can't help it." Ryan admits, voice low and rushed. "I don't want to either, but -"
Spencer feels like yelling at him then, because that's the lamest excuse he's ever heard, and really, Ryan should know better. "You can't help it? Of all - you're the last person I would expect to use such a cowardly excuse, Ryan!" Ryan's eyes flash at that, but Spencer continues, fury building with every word he spits out at Ryan. "Is it worth ruining five years of friendship just because you got some strange - PMS mood shit these past few weeks? Losing a band, losing your best friend? Life's not about doing everything you want, but caring enough to do something even when you don't want to, or can't!"
He doesn't mention Ryan's father, doesn't even say alcohol or goes near that, but he doesn't need to. Ryan turns white and his fists clench, and then he turns around, taking large agitated steps over to the war before slumping against it, chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I can't, Spencer." He says, eventually. He doesn't look at Spencer.
Spencer stalks over and jerks Ryan upright to look at him. "So this is it, then? You're just going to pull yourself away from Brendon until all he remembers of you are stolen moments on stage and awkward fumbling on tour buses?
Ryan flinches; he hasn't realized Spencer knew about that. He looks away, head falling back against the wall helplessly. "I don't want to lose Brendon anymore than you do, okay?" It feels like a revelation.
Spencer stares at him for a long moment. Then, "Leave."
Ryan jerks up to look at him, an ugly fear coiling in his stomach. "What?"
"Leave." Spencer grits out. "Take Jon, and - go do your own thing until this, whatever this is, goes away."
"Spence -" Ryan's voice is desperate, pleading.
Spencer hears what Ryan is asking clearly. It reminds him of a morning five years ago, when Ryan called him up in the middle of the night t say that Pete fucking Wentz is coming to listen to them play and could he make it tomorrow, please, at Brent's garage. He had to say no, then, because his parents had put their foot down and made Spencer go to school and take his final papers so he'll have a diploma, they said. Just in case things fall apart. It had killed him then, to say no; it was the first time he had turned Ryan down.
This is the second. Spencer wonders if it'll feel the same every time, as though something has ripped clear inside him and floats now in a sort of agony that makes the smallest of movement stiff and unnatural, even as Spencer shakes his head. "Take Jon," he repeats. "I'll tell Brendon."
I'm not sure if this helps. I don't think so.
Quite unpolished ):
"I just need a break from Brendon now, okay?" Ryan says, finally, long enough after the pause and reluctant enough that it feels like the truth.
"What do I tell Brendon?" Spencer gets to the point, because he's tired of weaving through yet another tangled web of Ryan's relationships. He's tired of buffering Brendon and Ryan whenever they meet to write music, because Ryan just closes up, refuses to show his lyrics to Brendon and offering only half-hearted attempts at commenting on his songs and basically just being an asshole during writing sessions, to the point that they haven't written a single song in over a fortnight, while Brendon keeps shooting alternately confused and miserable looks at him, and Spencer doesn't at all see how this is going to work out.
He thinks this is why they have never gotten trapped sticky-sweet between Ryan's intense words that promised the world and the harsh ambivalence of his intentions that just draws people in like honey, have always skirted dangerously around the edge, because Spencer has never had enough patience to decipher Ryan's meanings behind the layers and layers of carefully wrapped words, even though they seemed to suck everyone else in.
Ryan flinches. "You don't have to tell Brendon anyway," he tries. "It's not about him at all, I just -"
"Stop saying that." Spencer says evenly, betraying nothing of the sudden flash of anger that clenches hard behind his teeth. "Stop saying it's not about him, because that's not true, is it? Brendon's the only one you ignore during those writing sessions. You're alright with Jon. You're perfectly fine with me - even though right now that sentiment only goes one way, that I can tell you, Ryan."
Ryan doesn't say anything; misery lends his drawn, pale face a kind of pensive weariness that would look good in a black-and-white still shot; Jon would like to capture it, Spencer thinks. He wishes Jon was here.
"I can't help it." Ryan admits, voice low and rushed. "I don't want to either, but -"
Spencer feels like yelling at him then, because that's the lamest excuse he's ever heard, and really, Ryan should know better. "You can't help it? Of all - you're the last person I would expect to use such a cowardly excuse, Ryan!" Ryan's eyes flash at that, but Spencer continues, fury building with every word he spits out at Ryan. "Is it worth ruining five years of friendship just because you got some strange - PMS mood shit these past few weeks? Losing a band, losing your best friend? Life's not about doing everything you want, but caring enough to do something even when you don't want to, or can't!"
He doesn't mention Ryan's father, doesn't even say alcohol or goes near that, but he doesn't need to. Ryan turns white and his fists clench, and then he turns around, taking large agitated steps over to the war before slumping against it, chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I can't, Spencer." He says, eventually. He doesn't look at Spencer.
Spencer stalks over and jerks Ryan upright to look at him. "So this is it, then? You're just going to pull yourself away from Brendon until all he remembers of you are stolen moments on stage and awkward fumbling on tour buses?
Ryan flinches; he hasn't realized Spencer knew about that. He looks away, head falling back against the wall helplessly. "I don't want to lose Brendon anymore than you do, okay?" It feels like a revelation.
Spencer stares at him for a long moment. Then, "Leave."
Ryan jerks up to look at him, an ugly fear coiling in his stomach. "What?"
"Leave." Spencer grits out. "Take Jon, and - go do your own thing until this, whatever this is, goes away."
"Spence -" Ryan's voice is desperate, pleading.
Spencer hears what Ryan is asking clearly. It reminds him of a morning five years ago, when Ryan called him up in the middle of the night t say that Pete fucking Wentz is coming to listen to them play and could he make it tomorrow, please, at Brent's garage. He had to say no, then, because his parents had put their foot down and made Spencer go to school and take his final papers so he'll have a diploma, they said. Just in case things fall apart. It had killed him then, to say no; it was the first time he had turned Ryan down.
This is the second. Spencer wonders if it'll feel the same every time, as though something has ripped clear inside him and floats now in a sort of agony that makes the smallest of movement stiff and unnatural, even as Spencer shakes his head. "Take Jon," he repeats. "I'll tell Brendon."
I'm not sure if this helps. I don't think so.
Quite unpolished ):