November to June [sean/ryan/tom][s/a]
Title: November To June
Pairing/Character(s): Sean Van Vleet/Ryan Luciani/Tom Conrad
Rating: R
Summary: “Hm.” Tom puts his hand on Sean’s chest and pushes back. “What?” More awake, he stares at Sean, frowning. “What was it, four hours ago that you told me you were a boyfriend? Ryan’s boyfriend? Isn’t he in your bedroom right now?”
“Yeah,” Sean admits, “but he agreed on this.” Sean pauses and rolls his eyes.
“Finally.”
Warning: Half-implied verbal/physical relationship abuse. A threesome, of sorts. A sexual threesome.
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 7,514
A/N: for the anon_lovefest holiday fic exchange for allover. Yes, it's sort of supposed to be anonymous, but fuck that, this is over 7k and I want to post it. So. Suck my dick. 0:-)
This is a little sad, a little weird. But I'm also very proud of it - this is the longest Empires fic I've ever written and I think it's actually somewhat cohesive! This started out as supposed to be Tom/Ryan but then I couldn't leave Sean out of the mix because come on, it's Sean. He's sort of the 'bad guy', but he's also a really good guy and I hope I got that across with this fic! The canon is VERY skewed (I ignored Bear's existence, Al's existence, and the fact that these three only lived together for a month or two, instead making it about five. There's a lot of over things that are fucked up, but it's probably on purpose) but I still sort of used it, just to my own advantage. Thanks so much to chokeonirony for being a hand-holder and total enabler, and for making me feel like this fic actually makes sense (as to whether that's true or not, I'm not sure). That's it.
Sometimes Tom wonders if Ryan is a ghost. He feels unreal, almost magic. His voice. His cigarettes. His eyes. His arms. The back of his neck.
Odd things that Tom notices when he actually takes the chance to look.
“Hey.”
Tom nods and takes a drag from his cigarette, eyes fixed on Ryan as he opens the door leading into the apartment complex, gripping at least three plastic bags with his other arm. Sean trails after him, kicking his beaten car’s door closed and huffing as he lifts the bags in his arms.
“I’ll be there in a sec,” Tom says, flicking his cigarette and frowning at how little there is left. Sean smiles at him and continues into the apartment, leaving the door slightly opened.
Tom waits, throwing the cigarette onto the concrete of the sidewalk and then stubbing it out with his toe. He stares at it, pathetic on the cold ground, and looks back at the door. He imagines Ryan stepping out.
He turns back to the parking lot and opens the back door of Sean’s car, pulling out the remaining four bags. When he stands up straight, Ryan is standing at the door. He’s put on a jacket, and he pushes his shoulders up, shivering and scowling at Tom.
“Hurry up.”
Tom follows him into the apartment.
-
Tom’s not sure if he loves or hates the cold.
Winter.
Fucking winter.
Fucking Chicago winter.
“Give me your blanket.”
Ryan narrows his eyes at Tom and wraps his blanket further around himself, lifting his knees off the floor, folding them up to his chest. “No,” he says defiantly, holding his hands up to his face. “Make me.”
Unruffled, Tom raises a questioning eyebrow at Ryan. “You’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you…?” he grumbles, standing up and walking over to the heating system pad near the kitchen. Fucking 65 degrees in this fucking apartment with one little heater which Sean put in his room.
While he did pay for it, Tom can’t help but feel a little irritated.
“It’s freezing,” he tells Ryan, rounding on him with wide eyes. “Move over.”
Ryan looks a little unsure but opens his arms, scooting over on the moth eaten armchair. Tom, despite his small size, has a hard time fitting himself next to Ryan. “Your fucking arms, dude. Fucking drummers, I swear to God.”
“Shut the hell up,” Ryan mutters, putting his arm around Tom’s shoulder and throwing the blanket over their bodies as best as it can fit. “Or get your own blanket next time.”
Tom just hums and presses his face into Ryan’s warm neck, enjoying the heat.
-
Sean gives them a look. “You want me to bring out the heater? Or we could all go into my bedroom.”
“Not enough room on your bed for all three of us, Sean,” Ryan mumbles, half asleep.
Sean’s mouth twitches with the forethought of a grin. “You two are cute. Hold on.”
Tom lazily opens his eyes and looks at Sean. “What?”
Sean winks and leaves the room. He comes back a minute later holding one of Tom’s old cameras. “Hey…” Tom protests sleepily. “What the fuck you doing…?”
“Don’t worry, it’s an oldie, think you had this one since you were in The Academy Is, there’s pictures of Jon Walker in it.”
Tom doesn’t answer, instead burying himself further in the heap of blankets, allowing his mouth to run down Ryan’s neck to his chest, knowing Sean can’t see. Ryan shivers.
There’s a click and a flash of light.
“Beauties, that’s what you two are. Fuckin’ beauties of my life.”
Ryan snorts though it comes off a little shaky.
-
Tom comes home late one night to find Sean and Ryan curled up underneath at least three blankets in Sean’s bedroom, the heater on high plugged into the wall next to him. Tom feels a twist in his gut as he watches them, so close and so calm, and a painful twinge of jealousy grabs his chest. He blinks back the sting of a tear and turns back to the little living room, turning on the television and staring at the rerun of Jeopardy until he finally drifts off into a restless sleep.
-
“We’re going shopping, we’ll be back in an hour.”
“Hey, wait.” Tom pushes himself off of the couch, feeling the sudden urge for a cigarette as his chest tightens. “Can I go?”
Ryan and Sean both look at him. “Since when did you like going shopping?” Sean asks.
“Since when did you?” Tom shoots back, and then mumbles a pathetic apology when he realizes how sharp and unreasonable he sounds. “I dunno, I want to get out of this apartment…”
“You’re always out of this apartment,” Ryan sniffs, scowling at Tom. Tom doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like them both staring him down like he’s done something wrong. “You’re always out doing fuckin’ something, God knows what.”
Tom falters, unsure what to say.
“We’ll be back in an hour,” Sean states again, and he and Ryan disappear without another word.
Tom decides to set the timer on the piece of shit microwave for forty five minutes and crawls into Sean’s bed, turning the heater on medium.
He only cries a bit, but he manages to slip out of the bedroom at least four minutes before Ryan and Sean return home, laughing. Fucking laughing after going grocery shopping in the fucking November snow.
-
Tom is smoking outside. His hand is freezing, the other stuffed in his pocket. He’s not even comforted by the smoke drifting off in front of him.
It starts snowing and he looks up at the gray, miserable sky.
It reflects how he’s been feeling pretty well.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Tom drops his cigarette and crushes it with the toe of his shoe.
“You okay?”
Tom looks over his shoulder at Ryan, more bundled up, standing right outside the apartment door. When Tom doesn’t answer, he moves closer. Ryan settles in place next to Tom and leans his head on his shoulder.
“…Hey?” Tom asks, confused. “Um.”
“I miss you,” Ryan murmurs, lifting his head and kissing the side of Tom’s neck. “You seem so…affected lately. Heartbroken, or something.”
Tom snorts and has to keep himself from shrugging Ryan off, because it’s making him really happy in the pit of his stomach. “Heartbroken my ass. I’m fucking tired.”
Ryan hums, face still pressed into Tom’s neck. “Are you angry?” he asks.
“Why would I be angry?” he asks under his breath, suddenly feeling bad for his behavior. He’s been avoiding both Ryan and Sean (though mostly Sean) like the plague, and it figures they’d notice. Tiny ass apartment, and all. Or at least, that Ryan would. “I’m not angry.”
“But you are,” Ryan whispers sadly, wrapping his arms around Tom’s shoulders. Tom hesitates at first and then hugs Ryan back, resting his chin on his shoulder. Ryan is always warm. “You’re so frustrated and sometimes I don’t think you even know it. Everything’s for the best, okay? I promise.”
Tom lets out a ghost of a life. “Nice ideology,” he agrees, running his fingers through Ryan’s shoulder hair, “but I just don’t believe in that.”
Ryan slips out of Tom’s grip and Tom lets his arms fall. They stare at each other for a moment, Ryan all sad smiles. “I promise you,” he says in a quiet voice, and he kisses Tom quickly on the lips before heading back into the apartment.
-
Tom has a dream that he’s in the middle of a lake. A calm lake. He’s in a rowboat, a little wooden thing, all alone. The lake is warm, the water’s clear. The rowboat doesn’t move, sitting stationary in the perfect blue water. In the dream he sees everything clearly, and the grass past the lake is a beautiful green.
He doesn’t even consider moving, though there are paddles.
But the first calm dream disappears, replaced by a cemetery. Tom’s dreams are usually more like this - fuzzy, unclear, without any easy motive - but then he realizes what the one grave reads.
It doesn’t make him panic in the dream, like it would in real life. The site is suddenly distorted, and Tom can hear muffled screams.
Tom wakes up, warm from the lake, and all he can think is ‘Ryan’. Ryan screaming. Why would Ryan be screaming? He can’t remember.
Tom buries his face into the couch pillow and falls back into a more peaceful sleep.
-
“Stop.”
Tom wakes up to Ryan’s voice, ironically enough. He doesn’t open his eyes, still exhausted, his bones heavy in his body. He doesn’t register the angry muttering in the kitchen, doesn’t recognize Sean’s voice until he finally speaks up.
“Make up your fucking-”
Tom has never heard Sean’s voice so sharp and dangerous, and he forces himself to sit up, peaking into the kitchen. He sees the curve of Ryan’s back, but otherwise, they’re hidden.
He stands, slowly, feeling the need to stay silent as he approaches the sharp undertones of disagreement. Sean keeps his voice low and Tom can’t make out what he says, but then Ryan appears, stumbling backwards against the counter. Sean advances into sight as well and Tom stops stiff, blinking as Sean grabs Ryan by the collar and pushes him backwards. After Ryan readjusts himself against the counter, Sean pulls him forward, their lips colliding together.
Tom’s not sure what he’s seeing, and he takes a step back, feeling as if he’s just been kicked in the chest. Ryan shoves at Sean’s chest, though he obviously kisses back to some extent and as he twists away they both see Tom, standing in the middle of the floor, confused and breathless.
“Fuck,” Sean hisses, letting go of Ryan - unsupported, Ryan falls onto the tiled floor, hands outstretched. “Fucking fuck.”
“Uh.”
Tom looks at Ryan, meeting his gaze. Ryan shrugs, and Tom notices that he’s developing a bruise on his neck.
“Interesting,” he says, frowning at Sean. “Well.”
“Well,” Sean agrees, voice gruff and embarrassed, “well, you were supposed to stay asleep.”
“Well,” Tom continues dryly, “I wasn’t.” He licks his lips and looks down at Ryan again, catching his breath. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I…” Ryan begins, pushing himself off the floor. Sean helps, and to Tom’s surprise, Ryan doesn’t flinch away. He’s supposed to, somehow, this is all supposed to work except Ryan is supposed to go over to Tom and tell him about Sean being terrible or something and Tom’s supposed to fix everything.
Tom is slightly startled when he realizes that’s not how it works. That he loves Sean and Ryan, equally. Maybe in slightly different ways but - but he does love them both.
“It’s not what you think it is,” Sean says, embarrassment turned mild. “It’s not like I…God.” He leans his head back, slapping his palm to his face. “I’m not an abusive fuckin’ boyfriend or any of that shit. I think you can figure that out.”
Tom nods slowly, still looking back and forth between them. “But when did you become a boyfriend?”
“How did you not notice…?” Ryan mutters with a laugh, and he slips out of the room.
-
Tom has another weird dream.
-
“G’morning.”
Tom looks up at Sean from the couch. “Why are you watching me sleep?”
Sean shrugs. “You’ve done the same to me.” Tom blinks. “Not recently, but I know you’ve taken photos of me sleeping. Yeah, I don’t care, don’t get all fretful. I want to talk to you. Sort of.”
Tom sits up, his back and ass both pained from being on the couch for so long. “Yeah?”
Sean cups Tom’s face carefully and kisses him. Tom’s not really surprised, maybe because his brain simply can’t comprehend the action so early in the morning. It can hardly be morning. It’s so dark. But he kisses Sean back, because he’s always been a little curious as to what Sean tastes like.
“Hm.” Tom puts his hand on Sean’s chest and pushes back. “What?” More awake, he stares at Sean, frowning. “What was it, four hours ago that you told me you were a boyfriend? Ryan’s boyfriend? Isn’t he in your bedroom right now?”
“Yeah,” Sean admits, “but he agreed on this.” Sean pauses and rolls his eyes. “Finally.”
Tom’s more confused. “Excuse me…?”
“Don’t worry about it - don’t worry so much, you worry way too much. Can we let this work out organically? Like - like, think of it like music. Just let it happen, don’t think about it too hard or it’ll get fucked up. So promise me you’ll just…”
Tom closes his eyes and lets Sean run a hand down his neck and kiss him again.
-
It takes a couple of weeks, but Tom eventually grows accustomed to the way they live. The apartment becomes less ‘Sean’s’ and more ‘Sean, Tom, and Ryan’s’. Tom feels more welcome here than he has in ages, and it’s nice, on the occasion of a freezing winter when the heater will barely work, to crawl into Sean’s bed in between Ryan and Sean and let them hug him like a child.
-
Tom’s also not going to deny the perks of waking up to Ryan pinning him against the bed and kissing up and down his body.
“Good morning,” he mumbles, twisting his fingers through Ryan’s short hair. “What are you doing?”
Ryan sits up, still holding down Tom’s wrists next to his head on the pillow, straddling his stomach. “What do you think I’m doing?” He grins. “Sean’s not home, he went shopping.”
“Mmm,” Tom hums agreeably, pulling Ryan’s face down to kiss him. Tom likes to think about the difference in the ways that Sean and Ryan kiss, and sometimes he thinks about them kissing each other and it leaves a twist in his stomach that he’s not sure how to deal with. Sean’s rougher, uses his teeth and tongue more often. He’s pushier, and he often forgets to shave for days at a time which also affects the way he kisses.
Ryan, however, is gentler when he wants to be. He feels more likely to slip away and disappear in the middle of a kiss, his lips slower and gentler. He never seems to ask for or want much, his mouth and tongue more fluid.
Ryan’s not being as gentle, and though Tom can’t be sure what’s spurred the action, he can’t say he particularly minds it. It’s nice, it’s different, and he feels lazy and happy laying underneath Ryan’s warm body and letting himself be kissed, only moving his mouth to compensate when things get slightly awkward.
“Ryan, hey, Ryan,” Tom says into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan sits up again, crawling up a little further and stretching his legs to better fit against Tom’s chest.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your motivation?”
Ryan frowns, dropping his head to the side. “I like you,” he says simply. “I like you, I like Sean. Sean likes me, Sean likes you. You like me, you like Sean. I think that’s kind of…fair.”
“I like you,” Tom agrees slowly. “I like you a lot. I like Sean. But I like you a lot.”
Ryan doesn’t let go of Tom’s wrists, instead just leaning down and pecking him on the cheek. “That’s cute. I like you a lot too, Tom. I don’t know. I can’t choose.” Ryan’s voice goes a bit softer, and he looks at Tom with wide eyes. Tom feels his chest hurt and lets out a breath, biting his lip.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he murmurs, suddenly wanting to kiss Ryan again. Kissing Ryan is one of his new favorite things to do. “I don’t want you to choose. I just want to be honest with you - I love Sean, but…the way I love him is different…from the way that I love you…”
Ryan smiles and begins to kiss Tom again, and they don’t bring it up again.
-
“Oh. Hey.”
Sean kisses Tom’s neck, arms around him and hands on his chest. “What are you making?”
“Ryan wants grilled cheese,” he explains, poking at the sandwich in the pan on the burner. “So I’m making us grilled cheese. We didn’t think you’d be home.”
Tom feels slightly uncomfortable with Sean pressed up against him. He feels dirty, after what happened in the bedroom with Ryan just under an hour ago (he doesn’t have any clean underwear, but at least the cum stain on his shirt is on the inside - though he’s not sure how that happened), even though Sean probably wouldn’t mind. Would be enthused, knowing Sean. Sean and his ideas about being ‘organic’, whatever the fuck that really means.
“You smell nice,” Sean says, burying his face into Tom’s shoulder. “You smell sort of dirty, but also…you smell like you. You smell like Ryan, too.” Sean laughs into Tom’s shirt. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“What d’you want to eat? I can make you a grilled cheese, too, or some instant soup…we have macaroni, I think. Or lunch meat, I think the ham and turkey’s still good. Did you get the pudding? I want pudding…”
“You’re not just letting it flow, are you?” Sean sighs, arms still around Tom’s chest. “You’re too nervous.”
“I’m a little nervous,” Tom agrees, flipping the first sandwich. “I think I have the right to be a little nervous, this feels like it could…really fuck shit up.”
“We’re not teenage girls,” Sean answers gruffly, leaving his open mouthed at the sensitive spot behind Tom’s ear. “We know better than to let this fuck us up.”
Tom wants to agree. He wants to believe in Sean, believe in Ryan, believe in himself. He wants to believe that this band can do whatever the fuck it wants, that it doesn’t need approval from anyone or anyone’s blessing. That they - he, Ryan, and Sean - don’t need anyone’s blessing, not even their own. He wants to believe it, so he blocks out all of the feelings of self doubt, those terrible feelings of doubt he has at Sean, and even those feelings of doubt towards Ryan. He blocks them out because he has to - he just has to - he just has to believe. He has to know that things will be okay.
“I’ll make myself something, don’t worry about it, darling.” Sean’s whisper solidifies the idea.
-
Tom asks.
“You want to watch us make out?”
The way Sean puts it is much more blatant. Also, much more truthful. Tom shrugs, feeling awkward and cold and shuffles his feet. “I guess?” he admits, pressing his dry lips together. They’re cracking at the edges. “I guess so.”
Ryan moves across the bedroom and look at Tom over his shoulder. They make eye contact and Tom swallows, waiting for Ryan to break the gaze. He doesn’t until the last minute, until he’s settled himself comfortably on Sean’s lap, tilting Sean’s chin up with his slim fingers. Ryan stares at Tom, unblinking, before he dips his head down and begins to kiss Sean, who reciprocates with obvious tongue. Very obvious tongue.
Tom swallows and watches them. He watches Sean rest his hand on the nape of Ryan’s neck, watches Ryan push Sean onto the sheets by his shoulder, crawling up his chest like he had to Tom those couple of mornings ago. It’s surreal - watching them touch and kiss silently, besides their breathing - and it’s also making Tom hot in all of the right places.
“Can I blow you?” Tom says, too loudly, and he almost immediately feels his face flush and his body start to shake. Ryan breaks the kiss and sits up, hands on Sean’s chest. He looks at Ryan, eyes skeptical, then smirks.
“Who?” Sean asks, sounding slightly elated from the bed.
Tom blinks, and then realizes he’s being asked to choose. “Um,” he stammers, looking between Ryan and Sean, uncertain. At this very moment, he doesn’t really have a preference, and with them both just there, right in front of him - it’s even harder to make a decision. “I don’t know,” he admits, figuring it’s best to be honest. “I don’t care.”
Sean licks his lips, still laying on the bed, and Ryan rolls off of him. “In that case, I’ll leave,” he says lightly, standing and leaning down to give Ryan one last long kiss. Tom can’t tear his eyes away, but he absorbs the information quickly. Sean leaving. To let Tom blow Ryan.
It’s an interesting relationship.
-
While sex is a source of entertainment, it’s also a source of warmth. Christmas comes and goes, and with the little money they do have they end up just getting a mini plastic tree and sticking a few ornaments on it, leaving it on the kitchen counter. It’s not entirely festive, but, Ryan argues, it’s better than nothing.
It’s in January that things start to get really cold. December had been mild, with less snow than usual for Chicago, but January hits them hard and all three know that February will bring on the blizzards and the below zero temperatures.
Tom usually thinks about it when either Ryan or Sean (sometimes both, when the weather is extra bad) are out, grocery shopping or clothes shopping or whatever else they need shopping. He thinks about how the relationship is strange, but that it works. And he knows it could be weirder. The sex is good (the sex is great, actually) and Tom is beginning to feel less confused and happier with the situation, despite the freezing weather conditions.
-
“Where’s Sean?” Ryan asks, kicking off his boots, leaving snow at the front door. Tom inhales as Ryan enters, because he smells like smoke and Tom hasn’t had a smoke in three days, not wanting to have to buy a pack of cigarettes, also not willing to ask Sean or Ryan for any.
“He’s in his bedroom. Writing, I think. I wouldn’t disturb him, he’s on one of his rampages.”
Ryan looks confused, not bothering to take off his coat as he settles onto the couch next to Tom. Tom scoots over, throwing his arm around Ryan’s shoulder. “Odd. He hasn’t done that in a while.”
“He probably feels guilty,” Tom explains, shrugging. “He knows he’s been putting off writing for you.”
Ryan looks down, pressing himself closer to Tom. “That’s not entirely true. He’s been putting off writing for you, too.”
“He doesn’t love me,” Tom chuckles quietly, pressing his cold nose into Ryan’s hair. “Not the way he loves you.”
Ryan snorts. “You know, that’s not entirely true. He really does…love you. A lot. It’s weird, sometimes I see the way he looks at you - have you seen the way he looks at you? - and I think that something has changed. And something has changed, I think, because I do see the way he looks at you. It’s not just hormonal lust, it’s…it’s not like the way he looks at me either. It’s like he’s afraid for you.”
“So he pities me?”
“No,” Ryan says quietly, ignoring the dryness in Tom’s voice. “Tom, you know he doesn’t pity you. He’s just…he’s scared to lose you, I think. He doesn’t want things to get fucked up. You planted that idea in his head, that things were going to fuck up because of what we’re doing, but he can’t help himself…I don’t think he can change…how he feels. About either of us. And I know it’s a long shot, but I think he’s holing himself in his room because of that, and neither of us are at fault, Tom, it’s just that - he feels bad. He’s guilty.”
Tom stays quiet, kissing Ryan’s neck, his jaw line.
“Do you know what I’m saying? I’m saying that you mean something to him. So much more than you think you do.”
“Yeah,” Tom whispers, hand moving from Ryan’s neck to his cheek, pulling him closer so that their lips meet. “I guess I’m a bit scared, too.”
-
Tom’s stomach clenches as he peeks into Sean’s bedroom. Sean is on the bed, his head lolled over to the side, a notebook on his thighs and a pen loosely held in his hand. He’s asleep, his mouth hanging open just barely and Tom has the urge to slip into the room and pick up one of his cameras and take a black and white photograph and hang it in the kitchen.
Instead, he resists the urge, sitting down next to Sean, making the bed squeak. Sean doesn’t wake or even stir, and Tom touches his chin, feeling the stubble from a lack of shaving over the course of three days.
Tom kisses the corner of Sean’s lips and sighs. “You don’t have to be such a try-hard,” he murmurs, smiling as Sean begins to move, mumbling something in jibberish. “You can set down the pen for a couple of hours and stop working your ass off, now,” he murmurs into Sean’s ear, holding him steady by the shoulder.
Sean continues to stir awake, finally realizing it’s Tom next to him. “Tom?” he mumbles, blinking back sleep. “What…what time it is?”
Tom shrugs, not sure. “Who cares? You’ve been stuck in this room for hours, you only come out to get some food every six hours…that’s not healthy.”
“Hmm?” Sean sounds confused. “Oh, yeah.” He looks down at his notebook, more awake. He doesn’t move away from Tom’s touch - the hand still on his shoulder, the breath still close to his cheek. “I just don’t want to disappoint you guys.”
“You look like a ghost…” Tom whispers, running his fingers through Sean’s unwashed hair. “The ghost writer,” he laughs, pressing his face to Sean’s temple. He knows it’s uncharacteristic, that Sean’s probably confused. Tom is usually much more affectionate with Ryan, but right now - right now he’s giving up. He just wants to touch someone. “We both love you, you know,” Tom murmurs, mouth on Sean’s ear. It sounds oddly familiar, and Tom realizes it’s the same thing Ryan kept trying to convince Tom of. “We love you a lot.”
Sean winds his arm around Tom’s waist and pulls him onto his lap.
-
“We can’t use this one,” Ryan says bluntly, crumbling the paper. Sean stares at the floor, and Tom watches him from the corner of his eyes, resisting the urge to tell Ryan to lighten up. He knows Ryan is only doing it so harshly because that’s the only way to do it, but he feels guilty. Max picks up another piece of paper.
“You really love Hayley, don’t you?” Max says, looking straight at Sean and holding the page. He refers to the lyrics to Hayley, a song Sean wrote ages ago, when he was still in For The Birds. Tom remembers the song because Sean has played it so many times, has sung it to Ryan in the middle of the night, has played the chords when he’s just holding his guitar, unthinking. It is a song he will never let go of, and Tom’s almost pleased by his resistance to Max’s obvious not-so-positive attitude about the song.
“Can it be the last track? I’ll just record it acoustically, I just…I want something more - the For The Birds version is terrible and I - I just…”
“Yeah,” Max says quickly, and Tom is slightly surprised though he tries not to let it show. “Yeah, of course. Next?”
He sets down the sheet music of Hayley and Tom glances back over at Sean, with a secret smile that he shares with Ryan.
-
The stress of recording gets to all of them. Tom hates himself when he gets frustrated at Max, Max who’s only nineteen, Max who can’t do everything, Max who’s recording them an album out of his fucking basement, Max who’s so talented. Tom hates that sometimes he pounds his fist against the weak desk and wants to break his own guitars. He hates himself for snapping at Sean when he fucks up one of his own lyrics, hates himself for sending venomous glares at Ryan for being distracted by a game of Solitaire.
They settle with fifteen songs, which is pretty big for an album, but they figure since they’re self-distributing they might as well go all out. Tom’s not sure how the rest of them keep their cool, especially with him around. Recording Almost Here was such a different, smoother process, with each part recorded in a separate, silent room. Everything so clear, William’s voice edited so that very few people heard the actual original recording. Tom never heard it - he thinks Adam was the only one to.
So it’s odd, in a way, to watch Sean sing so openly. William had always been shy, and singing was a way to get past that shyness - he was able to let himself loose when he was singing, to not be nervous, but Tom had barely even seen that in William until they first toured. With Sean, he’s heard him sing a hundred thousand times. In the shower, during breakfast, to himself in his bedroom, on the couch, at the kitchen table. Sean’s not afraid of what other people think about him, and it shows in the way he sings in front of them, his voice carrying and strong. Tom can’t help but smile listening to him.
-
“You’re stressed,” Ryan points out one day after rehearsal as he and Sean settle into Tom’s car. Tom revs up the engine, glancing quickly at Ryan in the passenger seat and then at Sean through the rearview mirror before he adjusts it, Sean’s deep set blue eyes disappearing. “You’ve become angry again.”
Tom licks his lips as he pulls out of Max’s driveway and doesn’t say anything, remembering that day outside when Ryan had come up to him, said he was angry, and how he had denied it.
“Yeah, it’s frustrating. I feel like a little kid, and you guys are the seniority. I’m not used to that,” Tom admits, gripping the steering wheel hard with both hands. “I’m used to being more in charge.”
Ryan nods as if he understands.
Tom knows he doesn’t, but catches Sean’s eye again in the glass of the windshield.
Sean knows.
-
Tom plays guitar on Believe! with Sean singing besides him. It’s that simple, which is kind of amazing to Tom. They don’t record separately for this song, and Tom’s nearing nervous wreckage as he rests his hands on the guitar strings, more wired than he’s been in weeks. For some reason, it feels like this is a one-shot thing. Make it or break it.
Sean looks over at him and grins. “Are you ready, Tom?” he says, his voice light and confident. Tom swallows and nods, afraid if he speaks his voice will crack. “Take a deep breath,” Sean advises under his breath before looking back at Max and giving him a thumbs up. Tom does as he’s told and lets the tension leave his muscles, dropping his shoulders.
“One, two, three, four.” Max counts them off and Sean begins to sing, his voice reaching pitches Tom’s never heard before.
He grins, and plays the notes knowing that everything is going to be alright.
-
Ten songs into the album (they’re only missing Keep The Mood, Under The Bright Lights, Hayley, I Want Blood, and Midnight Land) Sean begins to lose it. No one’s really sure what’s wrong with him at first - he drinks more coffee than usual but his distancing from Ryan and Tom is so gradual even Ryan doesn’t know until they’re ten whole songs in.
“Sean, are you…?”
Sean just shrugs Ryan off, and it hurts Tom to see. Ryan’s face falls and he steps back, allowing Sean his room as he sips at the coffee, eyes dark and circled.
“Hey, Ryan,” Tom mumbles, holding his shoulder. “Do you know what’s up with our front man?”
Ryan turns, back to Sean’s, looking desperate. “I don’t know, I didn’t notice - I mean, I know he gets kind of…wound up when we record, almost like you, but I’ve never seen him like this. He seems so…distant. I can’t stand him being so distant, so far away.”
Tom nods, wanting to kiss Ryan but not sure if it’s the right time. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m sure if I can just talk to him for a couple of minutes he’ll realize he’s acting weird. Don’t worry about it, J.,” Tom whispers, and looking at Ryan makes it damn near impossible not to kiss him. He ends up leaning down and touching his lips, not quite a kiss, kiss, but not a peck, either. Ryan sighs and then smiles.
“I like it when you call me J.,” he says, and for now, Tom figures it’s the best he can do.
-
“Sean?”
The way Sean kisses Tom is different, hungry, something Tom hasn’t experienced from Sean in at least two months. He gasps, everything vibrating in his body in his head when he realizes what’s going on, when Sean crawls on top of him, all hot heat and hard dick and nipping teeth. Tom tries to keep his head straight but the feel of Sean’s warm breath on his bare hip makes him shudder, twitching and jerking his hips in response. Sean pushes him down, back against the bed, and Tom remembers that he had gone to bed early, notices that Ryan’s nowhere in sight.
“W-where’s Ryan?” Tom manages, a strangled sound because Sean’s still touching him, nudging his sides and sucking bruises into his hips. He’s not used to being touched by just Sean, especially when Ryan’s not around. Ryan is the constant.
“Not here. Out. Dunno,” Sean breathes, moving up Tom’s body again and pulling his wrists above his head. Tom allows himself to be controlled - part because he secretly really fucking loves it, part because he doesn’t want to upset Sean - and can’t help the sharp gasp as Sean twists his wrist above his head, holding both in one hand.
“F-fuck,” Tom groans, dick already hard in his sweatpants. He’s flushed, embarrassed and shocked and pleased, and Sean doesn’t give him much time to think, using his spare hand to pull out his own cock and then push Tom’s sweatpants down to his thighs. Tom squirms, helping as he can.
Still holding Tom’s wrist painfully above his head, Sean positions himself between Tom’s legs, holding both their cocks. Tom nearly chokes, throwing his head back at the sensation that leaves lights behind his eyes. He’s being loud, louder than usual, but he can’t help the heaving gasps and moans as Sean rocks his hips, rubbing their dicks together in a slow motion. Tom twitches, pushing back against Sean as he can, but Sean is still stronger than him, holding him down.
Tom revels in the feeling, closing his eyes and losing himself in Sean’s touch, Sean’s rough hand and hard dick. He comes without even thinking about it, his heart sporadic and his brain in a thousand different places. As he tries to catch his breath, Sean pushes his hips forward one last time, their cocks sliding together as he comes, too, all over the sheets and all over Tom’s shirt and sweatpants.
Sean collapses, letting go of Tom’s wrists, on Tom’s right side.
They spend a couple of minutes catching their breath, Tom only pausing to pull his pants back to his hips.
Sean doesn’t kiss him again, not once.
-
Tom had hoped that the one-on-one sex would have been the answer to their problems. Would have been Sean letting out all his frustrations and then he’d be normal. He was dead wrong.
Sean ignores Tom almost completely, only communicating when they have to, and Max catches on and after they finally finish recording Midnight Land (only two songs left, only two).
“Why is Sean being so…?” Max knows he doesn’t even have to finish his sentence, his facial expression saying exactly what he’s too afraid to say.
“I…That’s a good fuckin’ question, Max. Wish I could answer it myself.”
It’s not what Max is looking for, but Tom gives it with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I think he’s just super stressed, you know, with recording and everything…who knows if we’ll fail and fall or what. I guess we hope for the best, right?”
Max nods, eyeing Tom worriedly. “We’re going to be fine, Tom. You’ve got to believe that, too. Otherwise we won’t be.”
Tom nods, his stomach sinking.
-
Tom begins to forget what it was like before everything made him miserable. He only vaguely remembers the nights when he was allowed to curl in between Sean and Ryan’s warm bodies. It’s March now, and the snow isn’t melting but Tom can almost feel spring coming, and he hopes that with it comes happiness. He’s sick of being sad and he hasn’t had a cigarette in at least a week.
“Hey.”
Tom jumps, looking over his shoulder at Ryan as he steps out the apartment door onto the cold sidewalk in his jacket. He’s wearing a pair of black boots, his jeans tucked into them, and Tom smiles. Ryan’s self conscious about his height.
Ryan pulls a pack of cigarettes from inside of his jacket, along with a lighter. He lights one, settling next to Tom and leaning against the fence in front of the apartment building. He takes a couple of drags in the silence before looking over at Tom. “Here,” he says, holding the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and offering it to Tom.
Tom takes the cigarette cautiously, their fingers brushing. He takes a long drag and then looks back at Ryan, raising an eyebrow. Ryan shrugs, shaking his head and Tom shrugs alongside of him, finishing off the cigarette and the dropping it to the pavement.
Ryan shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around Tom’s waist. “Sean’s sleeping,” he says quietly, and Tom slowly puts his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “He really needs it. I don’t think he’s slept for at least thirty hours. He looked like a wreck, I just saw him finally crawl into bed.”
“We’ve got to finish recording this album,” Tom says, staring out into the street as a car speeds past. “We’ve only got Under The Bright Lights to finish.”
Ryan nods, leaning his head against Tom’s shoulder. “He’ll probably sleep for thirteen hours and then we can finish, once and for all.”
It sounds a lot sadder than it should be. Tom doesn’t want it to be over. “We’ve still got to play some shows, you know, tour with it the best we can. It’s not going to be over, Ryan. Everything’s going to be okay, don’t make it sound like…like it’s a once and for all thing.”
Ryan lowers his head and that’s when Tom realizes that he’s crying. “I know,” Ryan whispers, his voice weak. “But it feels like it. It feels like we fucked it up.”
Tom squeezes Ryan’s shoulder and tries not to cry himself.
-
“Good morning.”
Tom looks at Sean, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Hey…” he says softly, sweeping his eyes up and down Sean’s thinning frame. “How’d you sleep?”
Sean’s mouth twitches, a slight smile. It’s surprising to see. “Fucking great,” he says, and he steps forward slowly, putting a hand on the small of Tom’s back. Tom’s surprised at first but lets himself be pulling into Sean’s loose grip. Sean kisses him, one hand on the nape of Tom’s neck and the other still held firmly on his back. Tom feels comfortable, closing his eyes and setting the milk back down on the counter as he tangles his fingers in Sean’s hair.
Tom breaks out of the kiss, their chins colliding, Sean mumbling a curse. Taking deep breaths, still pressed tight against Sean’s warm body, Tom asks, “Are you okay now?”
Sean presses his face into Tom’s neck, holding him tighter. “Yeah,” he says, voice muffled against Tom’s skin. Tom feels him crying and all of the anger, all of the frustration of making this album and of not knowing what Sean was thinking, it all leaves him, swept under the floor boards. He hugs Sean and kisses his hair.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises, and Ryan is standing in the doorway with a soft smile as Sean continues to clutch the back of Tom’s dirty t-shirt, collapsing with heavy sobs.
-
They record Under The Bright Lights the next day, after Sean’s wiped his eyes and kissed them both over and over again, sobbing ‘thank you’s all the way through. Tom’s not sure exactly what he’s so thankful for, considering he knows he’s been a dick to Sean for a lot of this, but he’s glad to know that Sean is getting himself back on his feet and back together.
“You look exhausted,” Max says to Sean, and Sean doesn’t answer except to hug him. Max looks surprised, but hugs Sean back, looking over at Tom and Ryan curiously over Sean’s shoulder. Tom just smiles, and Ryan mouths, ‘we’re going to be okay’, and this time, when Tom reads his lips, he really, truly believes it.
-
“You can come back into the bedroom,” Sean says quietly, rubbing his arm and looking at Tom. Tom blinks and then grins. “I’m sorry, by the way. Sorry that I…” He hesitates, and the writer is always the one who doesn’t know how to word things. “I treated you like shit, I treated both of you like shit.” He glances over at Ryan, leaning in the bedroom door frame. “I feel like shit for that, but I think I can - can I make up for that? Probably not, probably can’t make up for it, but I can try…”
Tom smiles softly and wraps his arms around Sean’s neck. “I forgive you, though,” he says, smiling at Ryan over his shoulder. “I think we all had our moments,” he admits, and Ryan nods, though Sean can’t see that. “We all were nervous, and we ended up not being organic, like you had wanted.” Tom grins and pulls back, both hands holding Sean’s head. Sean’s smiling too. “But we can always…fix that up a little, you know? We don’t have to be perfect, but we can communicate.”
Sean snorts, though it’s not sarcastic like his snorts usually are. “Yeah,” Ryan agrees from the door frame, walking up behind Sean and hugging him around his waist. “We probably should just be a little more careful this time.”
Sean tilts his head backwards and Ryan pushes himself up to meet his mouth. After they kiss, Tom and Ryan kiss, over Sean’s shoulder. Ryan starts laughing because he has to use Sean’s shoulder to reach Tom’s lips. Tom and Sean then kiss, in a familiar way that Tom has missed so completely.
“So,” Sean says, the corners of his mouth turning up. “If I wrote songs about you two, would that be bad?”
Tom begins to laugh, resting his forehead on Sean’s shoulder. “Just…mix it up a little, you know?”
-
Ryan starts crying the first time Sean plays Strangers for them, acoustic in June, when it’s getting too hot and all their windows are open.
Well, I want you bad
I really want you bad
No matter who you’ve had
And I’m just your ghost
And you can have us both
I really want you bad
“The drum part, I think you’ll really like the percussion I wrote for it, Ryan,” Sean says after he finishes, setting down his guitar. He’s jittery, nervous as he watches Ryan sob and Tom rub his back. “It’s not a sad song, it’s a…it’s a hopeful song, and - and everything worked out in the end, so. So don’t worry about it, don’t be so sad.”
Ryan keeps crying, even with Sean’s arms around him.
-
The slow separation, the parting of ways, is hardly noticeable. Tom gets an apartment, a part-time job with a professional photographer uptown. Ryan stays with Sean after Tom leaves for a couple of months before leaving himself, into an apartment not twenty minutes from Sean, though an hour from Tom. He gets a job at Subway, laughs about being a ‘sandwich artist’. Max continues to mix, to produce, to make everything as perfect as he can for the record as the three slowly learn to live without each other at a minute’s distance.
They still call. Still text. Still meet, often. At least once a week, twice when they can, when they’re lucky enough to all have time off from their non-musical jobs. It’s not normally as romantic, sometimes just going out to eat at a crappy burrito shop, rarely they go to a nice restaurant and talk and talk and talk. It’s nice to just talk, something they didn’t do as often when they all lived together. It’s more real, it’s almost normal, which is something that’s harder to comprehend.
They do what they do. What they need to do to keep themselves sane.
Pairing/Character(s): Sean Van Vleet/Ryan Luciani/Tom Conrad
Rating: R
Summary: “Hm.” Tom puts his hand on Sean’s chest and pushes back. “What?” More awake, he stares at Sean, frowning. “What was it, four hours ago that you told me you were a boyfriend? Ryan’s boyfriend? Isn’t he in your bedroom right now?”
“Yeah,” Sean admits, “but he agreed on this.” Sean pauses and rolls his eyes.
“Finally.”
Warning: Half-implied verbal/physical relationship abuse. A threesome, of sorts. A sexual threesome.
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 7,514
A/N: for the anon_lovefest holiday fic exchange for allover. Yes, it's sort of supposed to be anonymous, but fuck that, this is over 7k and I want to post it. So. Suck my dick. 0:-)
This is a little sad, a little weird. But I'm also very proud of it - this is the longest Empires fic I've ever written and I think it's actually somewhat cohesive! This started out as supposed to be Tom/Ryan but then I couldn't leave Sean out of the mix because come on, it's Sean. He's sort of the 'bad guy', but he's also a really good guy and I hope I got that across with this fic! The canon is VERY skewed (I ignored Bear's existence, Al's existence, and the fact that these three only lived together for a month or two, instead making it about five. There's a lot of over things that are fucked up, but it's probably on purpose) but I still sort of used it, just to my own advantage. Thanks so much to chokeonirony for being a hand-holder and total enabler, and for making me feel like this fic actually makes sense (as to whether that's true or not, I'm not sure). That's it.
Sometimes Tom wonders if Ryan is a ghost. He feels unreal, almost magic. His voice. His cigarettes. His eyes. His arms. The back of his neck.
Odd things that Tom notices when he actually takes the chance to look.
“Hey.”
Tom nods and takes a drag from his cigarette, eyes fixed on Ryan as he opens the door leading into the apartment complex, gripping at least three plastic bags with his other arm. Sean trails after him, kicking his beaten car’s door closed and huffing as he lifts the bags in his arms.
“I’ll be there in a sec,” Tom says, flicking his cigarette and frowning at how little there is left. Sean smiles at him and continues into the apartment, leaving the door slightly opened.
Tom waits, throwing the cigarette onto the concrete of the sidewalk and then stubbing it out with his toe. He stares at it, pathetic on the cold ground, and looks back at the door. He imagines Ryan stepping out.
He turns back to the parking lot and opens the back door of Sean’s car, pulling out the remaining four bags. When he stands up straight, Ryan is standing at the door. He’s put on a jacket, and he pushes his shoulders up, shivering and scowling at Tom.
“Hurry up.”
Tom follows him into the apartment.
-
Tom’s not sure if he loves or hates the cold.
Winter.
Fucking winter.
Fucking Chicago winter.
“Give me your blanket.”
Ryan narrows his eyes at Tom and wraps his blanket further around himself, lifting his knees off the floor, folding them up to his chest. “No,” he says defiantly, holding his hands up to his face. “Make me.”
Unruffled, Tom raises a questioning eyebrow at Ryan. “You’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you…?” he grumbles, standing up and walking over to the heating system pad near the kitchen. Fucking 65 degrees in this fucking apartment with one little heater which Sean put in his room.
While he did pay for it, Tom can’t help but feel a little irritated.
“It’s freezing,” he tells Ryan, rounding on him with wide eyes. “Move over.”
Ryan looks a little unsure but opens his arms, scooting over on the moth eaten armchair. Tom, despite his small size, has a hard time fitting himself next to Ryan. “Your fucking arms, dude. Fucking drummers, I swear to God.”
“Shut the hell up,” Ryan mutters, putting his arm around Tom’s shoulder and throwing the blanket over their bodies as best as it can fit. “Or get your own blanket next time.”
Tom just hums and presses his face into Ryan’s warm neck, enjoying the heat.
-
Sean gives them a look. “You want me to bring out the heater? Or we could all go into my bedroom.”
“Not enough room on your bed for all three of us, Sean,” Ryan mumbles, half asleep.
Sean’s mouth twitches with the forethought of a grin. “You two are cute. Hold on.”
Tom lazily opens his eyes and looks at Sean. “What?”
Sean winks and leaves the room. He comes back a minute later holding one of Tom’s old cameras. “Hey…” Tom protests sleepily. “What the fuck you doing…?”
“Don’t worry, it’s an oldie, think you had this one since you were in The Academy Is, there’s pictures of Jon Walker in it.”
Tom doesn’t answer, instead burying himself further in the heap of blankets, allowing his mouth to run down Ryan’s neck to his chest, knowing Sean can’t see. Ryan shivers.
There’s a click and a flash of light.
“Beauties, that’s what you two are. Fuckin’ beauties of my life.”
Ryan snorts though it comes off a little shaky.
-
Tom comes home late one night to find Sean and Ryan curled up underneath at least three blankets in Sean’s bedroom, the heater on high plugged into the wall next to him. Tom feels a twist in his gut as he watches them, so close and so calm, and a painful twinge of jealousy grabs his chest. He blinks back the sting of a tear and turns back to the little living room, turning on the television and staring at the rerun of Jeopardy until he finally drifts off into a restless sleep.
-
“We’re going shopping, we’ll be back in an hour.”
“Hey, wait.” Tom pushes himself off of the couch, feeling the sudden urge for a cigarette as his chest tightens. “Can I go?”
Ryan and Sean both look at him. “Since when did you like going shopping?” Sean asks.
“Since when did you?” Tom shoots back, and then mumbles a pathetic apology when he realizes how sharp and unreasonable he sounds. “I dunno, I want to get out of this apartment…”
“You’re always out of this apartment,” Ryan sniffs, scowling at Tom. Tom doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like them both staring him down like he’s done something wrong. “You’re always out doing fuckin’ something, God knows what.”
Tom falters, unsure what to say.
“We’ll be back in an hour,” Sean states again, and he and Ryan disappear without another word.
Tom decides to set the timer on the piece of shit microwave for forty five minutes and crawls into Sean’s bed, turning the heater on medium.
He only cries a bit, but he manages to slip out of the bedroom at least four minutes before Ryan and Sean return home, laughing. Fucking laughing after going grocery shopping in the fucking November snow.
-
Tom is smoking outside. His hand is freezing, the other stuffed in his pocket. He’s not even comforted by the smoke drifting off in front of him.
It starts snowing and he looks up at the gray, miserable sky.
It reflects how he’s been feeling pretty well.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Tom drops his cigarette and crushes it with the toe of his shoe.
“You okay?”
Tom looks over his shoulder at Ryan, more bundled up, standing right outside the apartment door. When Tom doesn’t answer, he moves closer. Ryan settles in place next to Tom and leans his head on his shoulder.
“…Hey?” Tom asks, confused. “Um.”
“I miss you,” Ryan murmurs, lifting his head and kissing the side of Tom’s neck. “You seem so…affected lately. Heartbroken, or something.”
Tom snorts and has to keep himself from shrugging Ryan off, because it’s making him really happy in the pit of his stomach. “Heartbroken my ass. I’m fucking tired.”
Ryan hums, face still pressed into Tom’s neck. “Are you angry?” he asks.
“Why would I be angry?” he asks under his breath, suddenly feeling bad for his behavior. He’s been avoiding both Ryan and Sean (though mostly Sean) like the plague, and it figures they’d notice. Tiny ass apartment, and all. Or at least, that Ryan would. “I’m not angry.”
“But you are,” Ryan whispers sadly, wrapping his arms around Tom’s shoulders. Tom hesitates at first and then hugs Ryan back, resting his chin on his shoulder. Ryan is always warm. “You’re so frustrated and sometimes I don’t think you even know it. Everything’s for the best, okay? I promise.”
Tom lets out a ghost of a life. “Nice ideology,” he agrees, running his fingers through Ryan’s shoulder hair, “but I just don’t believe in that.”
Ryan slips out of Tom’s grip and Tom lets his arms fall. They stare at each other for a moment, Ryan all sad smiles. “I promise you,” he says in a quiet voice, and he kisses Tom quickly on the lips before heading back into the apartment.
-
Tom has a dream that he’s in the middle of a lake. A calm lake. He’s in a rowboat, a little wooden thing, all alone. The lake is warm, the water’s clear. The rowboat doesn’t move, sitting stationary in the perfect blue water. In the dream he sees everything clearly, and the grass past the lake is a beautiful green.
He doesn’t even consider moving, though there are paddles.
But the first calm dream disappears, replaced by a cemetery. Tom’s dreams are usually more like this - fuzzy, unclear, without any easy motive - but then he realizes what the one grave reads.
It doesn’t make him panic in the dream, like it would in real life. The site is suddenly distorted, and Tom can hear muffled screams.
Tom wakes up, warm from the lake, and all he can think is ‘Ryan’. Ryan screaming. Why would Ryan be screaming? He can’t remember.
Tom buries his face into the couch pillow and falls back into a more peaceful sleep.
-
“Stop.”
Tom wakes up to Ryan’s voice, ironically enough. He doesn’t open his eyes, still exhausted, his bones heavy in his body. He doesn’t register the angry muttering in the kitchen, doesn’t recognize Sean’s voice until he finally speaks up.
“Make up your fucking-”
Tom has never heard Sean’s voice so sharp and dangerous, and he forces himself to sit up, peaking into the kitchen. He sees the curve of Ryan’s back, but otherwise, they’re hidden.
He stands, slowly, feeling the need to stay silent as he approaches the sharp undertones of disagreement. Sean keeps his voice low and Tom can’t make out what he says, but then Ryan appears, stumbling backwards against the counter. Sean advances into sight as well and Tom stops stiff, blinking as Sean grabs Ryan by the collar and pushes him backwards. After Ryan readjusts himself against the counter, Sean pulls him forward, their lips colliding together.
Tom’s not sure what he’s seeing, and he takes a step back, feeling as if he’s just been kicked in the chest. Ryan shoves at Sean’s chest, though he obviously kisses back to some extent and as he twists away they both see Tom, standing in the middle of the floor, confused and breathless.
“Fuck,” Sean hisses, letting go of Ryan - unsupported, Ryan falls onto the tiled floor, hands outstretched. “Fucking fuck.”
“Uh.”
Tom looks at Ryan, meeting his gaze. Ryan shrugs, and Tom notices that he’s developing a bruise on his neck.
“Interesting,” he says, frowning at Sean. “Well.”
“Well,” Sean agrees, voice gruff and embarrassed, “well, you were supposed to stay asleep.”
“Well,” Tom continues dryly, “I wasn’t.” He licks his lips and looks down at Ryan again, catching his breath. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I…” Ryan begins, pushing himself off the floor. Sean helps, and to Tom’s surprise, Ryan doesn’t flinch away. He’s supposed to, somehow, this is all supposed to work except Ryan is supposed to go over to Tom and tell him about Sean being terrible or something and Tom’s supposed to fix everything.
Tom is slightly startled when he realizes that’s not how it works. That he loves Sean and Ryan, equally. Maybe in slightly different ways but - but he does love them both.
“It’s not what you think it is,” Sean says, embarrassment turned mild. “It’s not like I…God.” He leans his head back, slapping his palm to his face. “I’m not an abusive fuckin’ boyfriend or any of that shit. I think you can figure that out.”
Tom nods slowly, still looking back and forth between them. “But when did you become a boyfriend?”
“How did you not notice…?” Ryan mutters with a laugh, and he slips out of the room.
-
Tom has another weird dream.
-
“G’morning.”
Tom looks up at Sean from the couch. “Why are you watching me sleep?”
Sean shrugs. “You’ve done the same to me.” Tom blinks. “Not recently, but I know you’ve taken photos of me sleeping. Yeah, I don’t care, don’t get all fretful. I want to talk to you. Sort of.”
Tom sits up, his back and ass both pained from being on the couch for so long. “Yeah?”
Sean cups Tom’s face carefully and kisses him. Tom’s not really surprised, maybe because his brain simply can’t comprehend the action so early in the morning. It can hardly be morning. It’s so dark. But he kisses Sean back, because he’s always been a little curious as to what Sean tastes like.
“Hm.” Tom puts his hand on Sean’s chest and pushes back. “What?” More awake, he stares at Sean, frowning. “What was it, four hours ago that you told me you were a boyfriend? Ryan’s boyfriend? Isn’t he in your bedroom right now?”
“Yeah,” Sean admits, “but he agreed on this.” Sean pauses and rolls his eyes. “Finally.”
Tom’s more confused. “Excuse me…?”
“Don’t worry about it - don’t worry so much, you worry way too much. Can we let this work out organically? Like - like, think of it like music. Just let it happen, don’t think about it too hard or it’ll get fucked up. So promise me you’ll just…”
Tom closes his eyes and lets Sean run a hand down his neck and kiss him again.
-
It takes a couple of weeks, but Tom eventually grows accustomed to the way they live. The apartment becomes less ‘Sean’s’ and more ‘Sean, Tom, and Ryan’s’. Tom feels more welcome here than he has in ages, and it’s nice, on the occasion of a freezing winter when the heater will barely work, to crawl into Sean’s bed in between Ryan and Sean and let them hug him like a child.
-
Tom’s also not going to deny the perks of waking up to Ryan pinning him against the bed and kissing up and down his body.
“Good morning,” he mumbles, twisting his fingers through Ryan’s short hair. “What are you doing?”
Ryan sits up, still holding down Tom’s wrists next to his head on the pillow, straddling his stomach. “What do you think I’m doing?” He grins. “Sean’s not home, he went shopping.”
“Mmm,” Tom hums agreeably, pulling Ryan’s face down to kiss him. Tom likes to think about the difference in the ways that Sean and Ryan kiss, and sometimes he thinks about them kissing each other and it leaves a twist in his stomach that he’s not sure how to deal with. Sean’s rougher, uses his teeth and tongue more often. He’s pushier, and he often forgets to shave for days at a time which also affects the way he kisses.
Ryan, however, is gentler when he wants to be. He feels more likely to slip away and disappear in the middle of a kiss, his lips slower and gentler. He never seems to ask for or want much, his mouth and tongue more fluid.
Ryan’s not being as gentle, and though Tom can’t be sure what’s spurred the action, he can’t say he particularly minds it. It’s nice, it’s different, and he feels lazy and happy laying underneath Ryan’s warm body and letting himself be kissed, only moving his mouth to compensate when things get slightly awkward.
“Ryan, hey, Ryan,” Tom says into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan sits up again, crawling up a little further and stretching his legs to better fit against Tom’s chest.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your motivation?”
Ryan frowns, dropping his head to the side. “I like you,” he says simply. “I like you, I like Sean. Sean likes me, Sean likes you. You like me, you like Sean. I think that’s kind of…fair.”
“I like you,” Tom agrees slowly. “I like you a lot. I like Sean. But I like you a lot.”
Ryan doesn’t let go of Tom’s wrists, instead just leaning down and pecking him on the cheek. “That’s cute. I like you a lot too, Tom. I don’t know. I can’t choose.” Ryan’s voice goes a bit softer, and he looks at Tom with wide eyes. Tom feels his chest hurt and lets out a breath, biting his lip.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he murmurs, suddenly wanting to kiss Ryan again. Kissing Ryan is one of his new favorite things to do. “I don’t want you to choose. I just want to be honest with you - I love Sean, but…the way I love him is different…from the way that I love you…”
Ryan smiles and begins to kiss Tom again, and they don’t bring it up again.
-
“Oh. Hey.”
Sean kisses Tom’s neck, arms around him and hands on his chest. “What are you making?”
“Ryan wants grilled cheese,” he explains, poking at the sandwich in the pan on the burner. “So I’m making us grilled cheese. We didn’t think you’d be home.”
Tom feels slightly uncomfortable with Sean pressed up against him. He feels dirty, after what happened in the bedroom with Ryan just under an hour ago (he doesn’t have any clean underwear, but at least the cum stain on his shirt is on the inside - though he’s not sure how that happened), even though Sean probably wouldn’t mind. Would be enthused, knowing Sean. Sean and his ideas about being ‘organic’, whatever the fuck that really means.
“You smell nice,” Sean says, burying his face into Tom’s shoulder. “You smell sort of dirty, but also…you smell like you. You smell like Ryan, too.” Sean laughs into Tom’s shirt. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“What d’you want to eat? I can make you a grilled cheese, too, or some instant soup…we have macaroni, I think. Or lunch meat, I think the ham and turkey’s still good. Did you get the pudding? I want pudding…”
“You’re not just letting it flow, are you?” Sean sighs, arms still around Tom’s chest. “You’re too nervous.”
“I’m a little nervous,” Tom agrees, flipping the first sandwich. “I think I have the right to be a little nervous, this feels like it could…really fuck shit up.”
“We’re not teenage girls,” Sean answers gruffly, leaving his open mouthed at the sensitive spot behind Tom’s ear. “We know better than to let this fuck us up.”
Tom wants to agree. He wants to believe in Sean, believe in Ryan, believe in himself. He wants to believe that this band can do whatever the fuck it wants, that it doesn’t need approval from anyone or anyone’s blessing. That they - he, Ryan, and Sean - don’t need anyone’s blessing, not even their own. He wants to believe it, so he blocks out all of the feelings of self doubt, those terrible feelings of doubt he has at Sean, and even those feelings of doubt towards Ryan. He blocks them out because he has to - he just has to - he just has to believe. He has to know that things will be okay.
“I’ll make myself something, don’t worry about it, darling.” Sean’s whisper solidifies the idea.
-
Tom asks.
“You want to watch us make out?”
The way Sean puts it is much more blatant. Also, much more truthful. Tom shrugs, feeling awkward and cold and shuffles his feet. “I guess?” he admits, pressing his dry lips together. They’re cracking at the edges. “I guess so.”
Ryan moves across the bedroom and look at Tom over his shoulder. They make eye contact and Tom swallows, waiting for Ryan to break the gaze. He doesn’t until the last minute, until he’s settled himself comfortably on Sean’s lap, tilting Sean’s chin up with his slim fingers. Ryan stares at Tom, unblinking, before he dips his head down and begins to kiss Sean, who reciprocates with obvious tongue. Very obvious tongue.
Tom swallows and watches them. He watches Sean rest his hand on the nape of Ryan’s neck, watches Ryan push Sean onto the sheets by his shoulder, crawling up his chest like he had to Tom those couple of mornings ago. It’s surreal - watching them touch and kiss silently, besides their breathing - and it’s also making Tom hot in all of the right places.
“Can I blow you?” Tom says, too loudly, and he almost immediately feels his face flush and his body start to shake. Ryan breaks the kiss and sits up, hands on Sean’s chest. He looks at Ryan, eyes skeptical, then smirks.
“Who?” Sean asks, sounding slightly elated from the bed.
Tom blinks, and then realizes he’s being asked to choose. “Um,” he stammers, looking between Ryan and Sean, uncertain. At this very moment, he doesn’t really have a preference, and with them both just there, right in front of him - it’s even harder to make a decision. “I don’t know,” he admits, figuring it’s best to be honest. “I don’t care.”
Sean licks his lips, still laying on the bed, and Ryan rolls off of him. “In that case, I’ll leave,” he says lightly, standing and leaning down to give Ryan one last long kiss. Tom can’t tear his eyes away, but he absorbs the information quickly. Sean leaving. To let Tom blow Ryan.
It’s an interesting relationship.
-
While sex is a source of entertainment, it’s also a source of warmth. Christmas comes and goes, and with the little money they do have they end up just getting a mini plastic tree and sticking a few ornaments on it, leaving it on the kitchen counter. It’s not entirely festive, but, Ryan argues, it’s better than nothing.
It’s in January that things start to get really cold. December had been mild, with less snow than usual for Chicago, but January hits them hard and all three know that February will bring on the blizzards and the below zero temperatures.
Tom usually thinks about it when either Ryan or Sean (sometimes both, when the weather is extra bad) are out, grocery shopping or clothes shopping or whatever else they need shopping. He thinks about how the relationship is strange, but that it works. And he knows it could be weirder. The sex is good (the sex is great, actually) and Tom is beginning to feel less confused and happier with the situation, despite the freezing weather conditions.
-
“Where’s Sean?” Ryan asks, kicking off his boots, leaving snow at the front door. Tom inhales as Ryan enters, because he smells like smoke and Tom hasn’t had a smoke in three days, not wanting to have to buy a pack of cigarettes, also not willing to ask Sean or Ryan for any.
“He’s in his bedroom. Writing, I think. I wouldn’t disturb him, he’s on one of his rampages.”
Ryan looks confused, not bothering to take off his coat as he settles onto the couch next to Tom. Tom scoots over, throwing his arm around Ryan’s shoulder. “Odd. He hasn’t done that in a while.”
“He probably feels guilty,” Tom explains, shrugging. “He knows he’s been putting off writing for you.”
Ryan looks down, pressing himself closer to Tom. “That’s not entirely true. He’s been putting off writing for you, too.”
“He doesn’t love me,” Tom chuckles quietly, pressing his cold nose into Ryan’s hair. “Not the way he loves you.”
Ryan snorts. “You know, that’s not entirely true. He really does…love you. A lot. It’s weird, sometimes I see the way he looks at you - have you seen the way he looks at you? - and I think that something has changed. And something has changed, I think, because I do see the way he looks at you. It’s not just hormonal lust, it’s…it’s not like the way he looks at me either. It’s like he’s afraid for you.”
“So he pities me?”
“No,” Ryan says quietly, ignoring the dryness in Tom’s voice. “Tom, you know he doesn’t pity you. He’s just…he’s scared to lose you, I think. He doesn’t want things to get fucked up. You planted that idea in his head, that things were going to fuck up because of what we’re doing, but he can’t help himself…I don’t think he can change…how he feels. About either of us. And I know it’s a long shot, but I think he’s holing himself in his room because of that, and neither of us are at fault, Tom, it’s just that - he feels bad. He’s guilty.”
Tom stays quiet, kissing Ryan’s neck, his jaw line.
“Do you know what I’m saying? I’m saying that you mean something to him. So much more than you think you do.”
“Yeah,” Tom whispers, hand moving from Ryan’s neck to his cheek, pulling him closer so that their lips meet. “I guess I’m a bit scared, too.”
-
Tom’s stomach clenches as he peeks into Sean’s bedroom. Sean is on the bed, his head lolled over to the side, a notebook on his thighs and a pen loosely held in his hand. He’s asleep, his mouth hanging open just barely and Tom has the urge to slip into the room and pick up one of his cameras and take a black and white photograph and hang it in the kitchen.
Instead, he resists the urge, sitting down next to Sean, making the bed squeak. Sean doesn’t wake or even stir, and Tom touches his chin, feeling the stubble from a lack of shaving over the course of three days.
Tom kisses the corner of Sean’s lips and sighs. “You don’t have to be such a try-hard,” he murmurs, smiling as Sean begins to move, mumbling something in jibberish. “You can set down the pen for a couple of hours and stop working your ass off, now,” he murmurs into Sean’s ear, holding him steady by the shoulder.
Sean continues to stir awake, finally realizing it’s Tom next to him. “Tom?” he mumbles, blinking back sleep. “What…what time it is?”
Tom shrugs, not sure. “Who cares? You’ve been stuck in this room for hours, you only come out to get some food every six hours…that’s not healthy.”
“Hmm?” Sean sounds confused. “Oh, yeah.” He looks down at his notebook, more awake. He doesn’t move away from Tom’s touch - the hand still on his shoulder, the breath still close to his cheek. “I just don’t want to disappoint you guys.”
“You look like a ghost…” Tom whispers, running his fingers through Sean’s unwashed hair. “The ghost writer,” he laughs, pressing his face to Sean’s temple. He knows it’s uncharacteristic, that Sean’s probably confused. Tom is usually much more affectionate with Ryan, but right now - right now he’s giving up. He just wants to touch someone. “We both love you, you know,” Tom murmurs, mouth on Sean’s ear. It sounds oddly familiar, and Tom realizes it’s the same thing Ryan kept trying to convince Tom of. “We love you a lot.”
Sean winds his arm around Tom’s waist and pulls him onto his lap.
-
“We can’t use this one,” Ryan says bluntly, crumbling the paper. Sean stares at the floor, and Tom watches him from the corner of his eyes, resisting the urge to tell Ryan to lighten up. He knows Ryan is only doing it so harshly because that’s the only way to do it, but he feels guilty. Max picks up another piece of paper.
“You really love Hayley, don’t you?” Max says, looking straight at Sean and holding the page. He refers to the lyrics to Hayley, a song Sean wrote ages ago, when he was still in For The Birds. Tom remembers the song because Sean has played it so many times, has sung it to Ryan in the middle of the night, has played the chords when he’s just holding his guitar, unthinking. It is a song he will never let go of, and Tom’s almost pleased by his resistance to Max’s obvious not-so-positive attitude about the song.
“Can it be the last track? I’ll just record it acoustically, I just…I want something more - the For The Birds version is terrible and I - I just…”
“Yeah,” Max says quickly, and Tom is slightly surprised though he tries not to let it show. “Yeah, of course. Next?”
He sets down the sheet music of Hayley and Tom glances back over at Sean, with a secret smile that he shares with Ryan.
-
The stress of recording gets to all of them. Tom hates himself when he gets frustrated at Max, Max who’s only nineteen, Max who can’t do everything, Max who’s recording them an album out of his fucking basement, Max who’s so talented. Tom hates that sometimes he pounds his fist against the weak desk and wants to break his own guitars. He hates himself for snapping at Sean when he fucks up one of his own lyrics, hates himself for sending venomous glares at Ryan for being distracted by a game of Solitaire.
They settle with fifteen songs, which is pretty big for an album, but they figure since they’re self-distributing they might as well go all out. Tom’s not sure how the rest of them keep their cool, especially with him around. Recording Almost Here was such a different, smoother process, with each part recorded in a separate, silent room. Everything so clear, William’s voice edited so that very few people heard the actual original recording. Tom never heard it - he thinks Adam was the only one to.
So it’s odd, in a way, to watch Sean sing so openly. William had always been shy, and singing was a way to get past that shyness - he was able to let himself loose when he was singing, to not be nervous, but Tom had barely even seen that in William until they first toured. With Sean, he’s heard him sing a hundred thousand times. In the shower, during breakfast, to himself in his bedroom, on the couch, at the kitchen table. Sean’s not afraid of what other people think about him, and it shows in the way he sings in front of them, his voice carrying and strong. Tom can’t help but smile listening to him.
-
“You’re stressed,” Ryan points out one day after rehearsal as he and Sean settle into Tom’s car. Tom revs up the engine, glancing quickly at Ryan in the passenger seat and then at Sean through the rearview mirror before he adjusts it, Sean’s deep set blue eyes disappearing. “You’ve become angry again.”
Tom licks his lips as he pulls out of Max’s driveway and doesn’t say anything, remembering that day outside when Ryan had come up to him, said he was angry, and how he had denied it.
“Yeah, it’s frustrating. I feel like a little kid, and you guys are the seniority. I’m not used to that,” Tom admits, gripping the steering wheel hard with both hands. “I’m used to being more in charge.”
Ryan nods as if he understands.
Tom knows he doesn’t, but catches Sean’s eye again in the glass of the windshield.
Sean knows.
-
Tom plays guitar on Believe! with Sean singing besides him. It’s that simple, which is kind of amazing to Tom. They don’t record separately for this song, and Tom’s nearing nervous wreckage as he rests his hands on the guitar strings, more wired than he’s been in weeks. For some reason, it feels like this is a one-shot thing. Make it or break it.
Sean looks over at him and grins. “Are you ready, Tom?” he says, his voice light and confident. Tom swallows and nods, afraid if he speaks his voice will crack. “Take a deep breath,” Sean advises under his breath before looking back at Max and giving him a thumbs up. Tom does as he’s told and lets the tension leave his muscles, dropping his shoulders.
“One, two, three, four.” Max counts them off and Sean begins to sing, his voice reaching pitches Tom’s never heard before.
He grins, and plays the notes knowing that everything is going to be alright.
-
Ten songs into the album (they’re only missing Keep The Mood, Under The Bright Lights, Hayley, I Want Blood, and Midnight Land) Sean begins to lose it. No one’s really sure what’s wrong with him at first - he drinks more coffee than usual but his distancing from Ryan and Tom is so gradual even Ryan doesn’t know until they’re ten whole songs in.
“Sean, are you…?”
Sean just shrugs Ryan off, and it hurts Tom to see. Ryan’s face falls and he steps back, allowing Sean his room as he sips at the coffee, eyes dark and circled.
“Hey, Ryan,” Tom mumbles, holding his shoulder. “Do you know what’s up with our front man?”
Ryan turns, back to Sean’s, looking desperate. “I don’t know, I didn’t notice - I mean, I know he gets kind of…wound up when we record, almost like you, but I’ve never seen him like this. He seems so…distant. I can’t stand him being so distant, so far away.”
Tom nods, wanting to kiss Ryan but not sure if it’s the right time. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m sure if I can just talk to him for a couple of minutes he’ll realize he’s acting weird. Don’t worry about it, J.,” Tom whispers, and looking at Ryan makes it damn near impossible not to kiss him. He ends up leaning down and touching his lips, not quite a kiss, kiss, but not a peck, either. Ryan sighs and then smiles.
“I like it when you call me J.,” he says, and for now, Tom figures it’s the best he can do.
-
“Sean?”
The way Sean kisses Tom is different, hungry, something Tom hasn’t experienced from Sean in at least two months. He gasps, everything vibrating in his body in his head when he realizes what’s going on, when Sean crawls on top of him, all hot heat and hard dick and nipping teeth. Tom tries to keep his head straight but the feel of Sean’s warm breath on his bare hip makes him shudder, twitching and jerking his hips in response. Sean pushes him down, back against the bed, and Tom remembers that he had gone to bed early, notices that Ryan’s nowhere in sight.
“W-where’s Ryan?” Tom manages, a strangled sound because Sean’s still touching him, nudging his sides and sucking bruises into his hips. He’s not used to being touched by just Sean, especially when Ryan’s not around. Ryan is the constant.
“Not here. Out. Dunno,” Sean breathes, moving up Tom’s body again and pulling his wrists above his head. Tom allows himself to be controlled - part because he secretly really fucking loves it, part because he doesn’t want to upset Sean - and can’t help the sharp gasp as Sean twists his wrist above his head, holding both in one hand.
“F-fuck,” Tom groans, dick already hard in his sweatpants. He’s flushed, embarrassed and shocked and pleased, and Sean doesn’t give him much time to think, using his spare hand to pull out his own cock and then push Tom’s sweatpants down to his thighs. Tom squirms, helping as he can.
Still holding Tom’s wrist painfully above his head, Sean positions himself between Tom’s legs, holding both their cocks. Tom nearly chokes, throwing his head back at the sensation that leaves lights behind his eyes. He’s being loud, louder than usual, but he can’t help the heaving gasps and moans as Sean rocks his hips, rubbing their dicks together in a slow motion. Tom twitches, pushing back against Sean as he can, but Sean is still stronger than him, holding him down.
Tom revels in the feeling, closing his eyes and losing himself in Sean’s touch, Sean’s rough hand and hard dick. He comes without even thinking about it, his heart sporadic and his brain in a thousand different places. As he tries to catch his breath, Sean pushes his hips forward one last time, their cocks sliding together as he comes, too, all over the sheets and all over Tom’s shirt and sweatpants.
Sean collapses, letting go of Tom’s wrists, on Tom’s right side.
They spend a couple of minutes catching their breath, Tom only pausing to pull his pants back to his hips.
Sean doesn’t kiss him again, not once.
-
Tom had hoped that the one-on-one sex would have been the answer to their problems. Would have been Sean letting out all his frustrations and then he’d be normal. He was dead wrong.
Sean ignores Tom almost completely, only communicating when they have to, and Max catches on and after they finally finish recording Midnight Land (only two songs left, only two).
“Why is Sean being so…?” Max knows he doesn’t even have to finish his sentence, his facial expression saying exactly what he’s too afraid to say.
“I…That’s a good fuckin’ question, Max. Wish I could answer it myself.”
It’s not what Max is looking for, but Tom gives it with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I think he’s just super stressed, you know, with recording and everything…who knows if we’ll fail and fall or what. I guess we hope for the best, right?”
Max nods, eyeing Tom worriedly. “We’re going to be fine, Tom. You’ve got to believe that, too. Otherwise we won’t be.”
Tom nods, his stomach sinking.
-
Tom begins to forget what it was like before everything made him miserable. He only vaguely remembers the nights when he was allowed to curl in between Sean and Ryan’s warm bodies. It’s March now, and the snow isn’t melting but Tom can almost feel spring coming, and he hopes that with it comes happiness. He’s sick of being sad and he hasn’t had a cigarette in at least a week.
“Hey.”
Tom jumps, looking over his shoulder at Ryan as he steps out the apartment door onto the cold sidewalk in his jacket. He’s wearing a pair of black boots, his jeans tucked into them, and Tom smiles. Ryan’s self conscious about his height.
Ryan pulls a pack of cigarettes from inside of his jacket, along with a lighter. He lights one, settling next to Tom and leaning against the fence in front of the apartment building. He takes a couple of drags in the silence before looking over at Tom. “Here,” he says, holding the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and offering it to Tom.
Tom takes the cigarette cautiously, their fingers brushing. He takes a long drag and then looks back at Ryan, raising an eyebrow. Ryan shrugs, shaking his head and Tom shrugs alongside of him, finishing off the cigarette and the dropping it to the pavement.
Ryan shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around Tom’s waist. “Sean’s sleeping,” he says quietly, and Tom slowly puts his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “He really needs it. I don’t think he’s slept for at least thirty hours. He looked like a wreck, I just saw him finally crawl into bed.”
“We’ve got to finish recording this album,” Tom says, staring out into the street as a car speeds past. “We’ve only got Under The Bright Lights to finish.”
Ryan nods, leaning his head against Tom’s shoulder. “He’ll probably sleep for thirteen hours and then we can finish, once and for all.”
It sounds a lot sadder than it should be. Tom doesn’t want it to be over. “We’ve still got to play some shows, you know, tour with it the best we can. It’s not going to be over, Ryan. Everything’s going to be okay, don’t make it sound like…like it’s a once and for all thing.”
Ryan lowers his head and that’s when Tom realizes that he’s crying. “I know,” Ryan whispers, his voice weak. “But it feels like it. It feels like we fucked it up.”
Tom squeezes Ryan’s shoulder and tries not to cry himself.
-
“Good morning.”
Tom looks at Sean, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Hey…” he says softly, sweeping his eyes up and down Sean’s thinning frame. “How’d you sleep?”
Sean’s mouth twitches, a slight smile. It’s surprising to see. “Fucking great,” he says, and he steps forward slowly, putting a hand on the small of Tom’s back. Tom’s surprised at first but lets himself be pulling into Sean’s loose grip. Sean kisses him, one hand on the nape of Tom’s neck and the other still held firmly on his back. Tom feels comfortable, closing his eyes and setting the milk back down on the counter as he tangles his fingers in Sean’s hair.
Tom breaks out of the kiss, their chins colliding, Sean mumbling a curse. Taking deep breaths, still pressed tight against Sean’s warm body, Tom asks, “Are you okay now?”
Sean presses his face into Tom’s neck, holding him tighter. “Yeah,” he says, voice muffled against Tom’s skin. Tom feels him crying and all of the anger, all of the frustration of making this album and of not knowing what Sean was thinking, it all leaves him, swept under the floor boards. He hugs Sean and kisses his hair.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises, and Ryan is standing in the doorway with a soft smile as Sean continues to clutch the back of Tom’s dirty t-shirt, collapsing with heavy sobs.
-
They record Under The Bright Lights the next day, after Sean’s wiped his eyes and kissed them both over and over again, sobbing ‘thank you’s all the way through. Tom’s not sure exactly what he’s so thankful for, considering he knows he’s been a dick to Sean for a lot of this, but he’s glad to know that Sean is getting himself back on his feet and back together.
“You look exhausted,” Max says to Sean, and Sean doesn’t answer except to hug him. Max looks surprised, but hugs Sean back, looking over at Tom and Ryan curiously over Sean’s shoulder. Tom just smiles, and Ryan mouths, ‘we’re going to be okay’, and this time, when Tom reads his lips, he really, truly believes it.
-
“You can come back into the bedroom,” Sean says quietly, rubbing his arm and looking at Tom. Tom blinks and then grins. “I’m sorry, by the way. Sorry that I…” He hesitates, and the writer is always the one who doesn’t know how to word things. “I treated you like shit, I treated both of you like shit.” He glances over at Ryan, leaning in the bedroom door frame. “I feel like shit for that, but I think I can - can I make up for that? Probably not, probably can’t make up for it, but I can try…”
Tom smiles softly and wraps his arms around Sean’s neck. “I forgive you, though,” he says, smiling at Ryan over his shoulder. “I think we all had our moments,” he admits, and Ryan nods, though Sean can’t see that. “We all were nervous, and we ended up not being organic, like you had wanted.” Tom grins and pulls back, both hands holding Sean’s head. Sean’s smiling too. “But we can always…fix that up a little, you know? We don’t have to be perfect, but we can communicate.”
Sean snorts, though it’s not sarcastic like his snorts usually are. “Yeah,” Ryan agrees from the door frame, walking up behind Sean and hugging him around his waist. “We probably should just be a little more careful this time.”
Sean tilts his head backwards and Ryan pushes himself up to meet his mouth. After they kiss, Tom and Ryan kiss, over Sean’s shoulder. Ryan starts laughing because he has to use Sean’s shoulder to reach Tom’s lips. Tom and Sean then kiss, in a familiar way that Tom has missed so completely.
“So,” Sean says, the corners of his mouth turning up. “If I wrote songs about you two, would that be bad?”
Tom begins to laugh, resting his forehead on Sean’s shoulder. “Just…mix it up a little, you know?”
-
Ryan starts crying the first time Sean plays Strangers for them, acoustic in June, when it’s getting too hot and all their windows are open.
Well, I want you bad
I really want you bad
No matter who you’ve had
And I’m just your ghost
And you can have us both
I really want you bad
“The drum part, I think you’ll really like the percussion I wrote for it, Ryan,” Sean says after he finishes, setting down his guitar. He’s jittery, nervous as he watches Ryan sob and Tom rub his back. “It’s not a sad song, it’s a…it’s a hopeful song, and - and everything worked out in the end, so. So don’t worry about it, don’t be so sad.”
Ryan keeps crying, even with Sean’s arms around him.
-
The slow separation, the parting of ways, is hardly noticeable. Tom gets an apartment, a part-time job with a professional photographer uptown. Ryan stays with Sean after Tom leaves for a couple of months before leaving himself, into an apartment not twenty minutes from Sean, though an hour from Tom. He gets a job at Subway, laughs about being a ‘sandwich artist’. Max continues to mix, to produce, to make everything as perfect as he can for the record as the three slowly learn to live without each other at a minute’s distance.
They still call. Still text. Still meet, often. At least once a week, twice when they can, when they’re lucky enough to all have time off from their non-musical jobs. It’s not normally as romantic, sometimes just going out to eat at a crappy burrito shop, rarely they go to a nice restaurant and talk and talk and talk. It’s nice to just talk, something they didn’t do as often when they all lived together. It’s more real, it’s almost normal, which is something that’s harder to comprehend.
They do what they do. What they need to do to keep themselves sane.