the stage is set. [7/?]
TITLE: The Stage Is Set. [7/?]
AUTHOR: therecordskipsx
RATING: R. Mature themes.
POV: Third-ish.
PAIRING: I can’t tell you yet; it’s complicated!
SUMMARY: AU. He met her on a Tuesday. Just an ordinary Tuesday, like any other day of the week, really, except that it wasn’t at all.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own or know them, and I am 200% certain this never happened.
WARNINGS: Het, and it’s central to the plot.
A/N: Under the cut, ladies and gents!
**READ ME PLS =]** Guys! I'm such a liar, and my memory is terrible! I was all, "Chapter eight, you'll get it!" But, uhm. It's actually this part, which is clearly not chapter eight, but chapter seven. Herein is contained the solution to the main problem of the story, which is, what the fuck is up with the girl? YOU WILL KNOW BY THE END OF THIS CHAPTER, and I can stop worrying myself that people don't understand what I'm getting at. *sigh* Thank some higher being for that. Please give me some indication of how close your theory was, because I swear on my mother's head, I was giving you guys hints! =\
Now for the second order of business. I'm sad to say that I don't think this story is ever going to reach the NC17 I originally had planned for it, simply because the timeline for it given the circumstance just isn't there. If I've killed your dreams of hot Ryan/Brendon sex...I'm terribly sorry, but trust me, I can't write smut anyways - I'm saving your brain from the awkward. Seriously. You can just wait until I write more of 'Fascinate' and have some kinky bloodplay instead? Okay? =D
Thirdly, I have no idea how this story is going to end, or where, or when. As such, the chapters may get fewer and further between while I try and sort it out. Please don't throw pointy objects at me. I'm doing my best! =]
Lastly, I HATE THIS CHAPTER. I love Jon and Shane, but I HATE THIS CHAPTER. Too much dialogue, and I think it's boring, and blah blah blah. Just, you know, so you guys know why it sucks. Uhmm.
That's all. ON WITH THE REVELATION. Bwahaha. =D
///
“Where’d you go last night?” Jon says, voice distant through Brendon’s cell phone. “Uhm, I...” he starts, but Jon just laughs. “Hook up with that dude you were hanging all over?”
Brendon chokes on his latte.
“I take that as a yes,” Jon says, and Brendon glances over at Shane, grinning at him across the table, and then taking a sip out of his chai tea.
“Uhm, y-yeah,” Brendon says, rubbing at the side of his head, “but it’s...” And he can almost hear Jon roll his eyes through the phone.
“I don’t give a fuck, dude. Do what you want. If you’re cool, I’m cool.” Brendon sighs, blowing his hair off his forehead, glancing back over at Shane.
“Mhm, alright. Talk to you later, man,” and he hears Jon laugh and say ‘bye, gaymo’ just before he flips the phone shut.
“Your buddy from last night?” Shane says, taking a bite out of a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich (they had an in-depth conversation about vegetarianism versus veganism versus regular omnivore earlier), wiping at the corner of his mouth. Brendon nods and shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“So,” he says, “what were you saying before?” And he thinks maybe, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, this whole waking up with Shane thing.
----------
Jon sees him walking down the street, skinny jeans and a bone tight t-shirt...so being Jon, he calls after him.
“Hey, hey kid...what was your name? Ryan? C’mere!” And he spins around, and he looks terrified, absolutely terrified, and Jon thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him, there’s this mirage in front of this kid that’s the girl who left Brendon, the fucking bitch, and then it’s gone, except it really isn’t.
Jon rushes towards the kid, and he...she, whatever, doesn’t move, just stands there and stares. When he’s close enough, he says, “It’s you, isn’t it?” The boy starts, licks hip lips, digs his hands in his pockets.
“I didn’t...didn’t think you recognized me,” he whispers, she whispers, and Jon just stares.
“Shit. What the hell, you...the fuck?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, steps backwards, slow. “I’ll, I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to hurt him, I l-love him, God, I do, it’s just...”
“Rachel,” Jon says, slowly, just for the satisfaction of seeing him flinch, “I don’t know what kind of asshole you thought he was...but just so you know, he’s out with a boy right now. He went home with a boy last night.”
And he refuses to think Ryan in his head, so he thinks Rachel, he thinks she, so that she steps back further, and her face is blank and white, washed clean.
“I, Jesus, are you kidding? Do, do you think I could talk to him, explain, would he...”
“I don’t fucking know what he’ll do,” Jon snaps, “but I’m pretty aware of how nice it would be to punch you right in the pretty mouth right now, so I would advise you to go,” he takes a deep breath, “before I do. You fuck with my friends, you fuck with me.”
And she nods again, turns around and walks away, leaving Jon standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands clenched into fists.
He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.
----------
“Hey, Bren, I really need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, uhm...” Brendon sits up, holding his finger up at Shane, laying sprawled on the bed. “Bad time.”
“It’s about...Rachel.”
“I...what? What do you mean?”
“I’m coming over.”
“You, no, I have company, you can’t just...”
“I don’t care, you need to hear this, Bren.”
“No, I don’t. She’s...gone.”
“Not, not in the way you thought. I can’t explain it to you now. I’ll...be right there.”
“Jon, I...”
And the phone goes dead. Brendon hangs up, turning to look at Shane with wide eyes.
“Alright,” Shane says, sitting up. “Should I be going?”
“No, you’re going to stay,” Brendon says, resting his hand on top of Shane’s, “because what he’s going to tell me is in the past, and you’re here now.”
----------
Brendon swings the door open when Jon knocks, still only in his boxers, Shane sitting calmly on the bed with his hands folded in his lap.
“Look,” he says, “I know this is...maybe you don’t care, but I can’t not tell you,” and he comes in, shutting the door behind him. Brendon just holds his hands in the air and shrugs, moving backwards to sit on the bed.
“Alright, whatever it is, out with it,” he says, impatient, and Jon swallows.
“Well, I ran into her today, except...”
“She was a he,” Shane interrupts, and he isn’t laughing.
“Uhm,” Brendon says, and then laughs, uneasy. “Are you, no, wait. What? I slept with her, guys, I’m pretty sure she’s...” he stops, opens his mouth to start again, and then sinks into the bed. “Okay, what the fuck?”
Jon goes, “I saw the guy from last night, except it was...”
“I know him,” Shane says, cutting Jon off, looking up at him. “Sorry, Jon, but...” and Jon nods, flops down in a chair, waits. “Ryan...used to be Rachel, used to be...” he looks up at Brendon, “your girlfriend, I guess. He talks about you sometimes, but I never realized it was you, I thought it was someone else, I thought. Well, uhm, actually,” he scratches his head, twists his mouth, “I don’t know what I thought.”
“The guy at the party?” Brendon says, to no one, to everyone, and they both nod.
“Well,” Shane pipes up again, “as much as he’s male on his birth certificate now, he isn’t, you know, male. He doesn’t know if he’s going to, you know,” he looks at Brendon, “I think, because of you.”
“I don’t own her,” Brendon snaps, voice rising sharp over the drone of the window air conditioner, eyes glossed and staring. “I never did.”
“She...he, whatever, fuck...wants to talk to you,” Jon says, and Brendon looks up, and Jon tries to figure out what he’s feeling - is he happy, sad, pissed off, indifferent? - but he can’t see anything but shock on his face, bleaching his cheeks and darkening his eyes.
“Yeah,” Brendon says, “well maybe I don’t want to talk to her.”
AUTHOR: therecordskipsx
RATING: R. Mature themes.
POV: Third-ish.
PAIRING: I can’t tell you yet; it’s complicated!
SUMMARY: AU. He met her on a Tuesday. Just an ordinary Tuesday, like any other day of the week, really, except that it wasn’t at all.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own or know them, and I am 200% certain this never happened.
WARNINGS: Het, and it’s central to the plot.
A/N: Under the cut, ladies and gents!
**READ ME PLS =]** Guys! I'm such a liar, and my memory is terrible! I was all, "Chapter eight, you'll get it!" But, uhm. It's actually this part, which is clearly not chapter eight, but chapter seven. Herein is contained the solution to the main problem of the story, which is, what the fuck is up with the girl? YOU WILL KNOW BY THE END OF THIS CHAPTER, and I can stop worrying myself that people don't understand what I'm getting at. *sigh* Thank some higher being for that. Please give me some indication of how close your theory was, because I swear on my mother's head, I was giving you guys hints! =\
Now for the second order of business. I'm sad to say that I don't think this story is ever going to reach the NC17 I originally had planned for it, simply because the timeline for it given the circumstance just isn't there. If I've killed your dreams of hot Ryan/Brendon sex...I'm terribly sorry, but trust me, I can't write smut anyways - I'm saving your brain from the awkward. Seriously. You can just wait until I write more of 'Fascinate' and have some kinky bloodplay instead? Okay? =D
Thirdly, I have no idea how this story is going to end, or where, or when. As such, the chapters may get fewer and further between while I try and sort it out. Please don't throw pointy objects at me. I'm doing my best! =]
Lastly, I HATE THIS CHAPTER. I love Jon and Shane, but I HATE THIS CHAPTER. Too much dialogue, and I think it's boring, and blah blah blah. Just, you know, so you guys know why it sucks. Uhmm.
That's all. ON WITH THE REVELATION. Bwahaha. =D
///
“Where’d you go last night?” Jon says, voice distant through Brendon’s cell phone. “Uhm, I...” he starts, but Jon just laughs. “Hook up with that dude you were hanging all over?”
Brendon chokes on his latte.
“I take that as a yes,” Jon says, and Brendon glances over at Shane, grinning at him across the table, and then taking a sip out of his chai tea.
“Uhm, y-yeah,” Brendon says, rubbing at the side of his head, “but it’s...” And he can almost hear Jon roll his eyes through the phone.
“I don’t give a fuck, dude. Do what you want. If you’re cool, I’m cool.” Brendon sighs, blowing his hair off his forehead, glancing back over at Shane.
“Mhm, alright. Talk to you later, man,” and he hears Jon laugh and say ‘bye, gaymo’ just before he flips the phone shut.
“Your buddy from last night?” Shane says, taking a bite out of a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich (they had an in-depth conversation about vegetarianism versus veganism versus regular omnivore earlier), wiping at the corner of his mouth. Brendon nods and shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“So,” he says, “what were you saying before?” And he thinks maybe, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, this whole waking up with Shane thing.
----------
Jon sees him walking down the street, skinny jeans and a bone tight t-shirt...so being Jon, he calls after him.
“Hey, hey kid...what was your name? Ryan? C’mere!” And he spins around, and he looks terrified, absolutely terrified, and Jon thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him, there’s this mirage in front of this kid that’s the girl who left Brendon, the fucking bitch, and then it’s gone, except it really isn’t.
Jon rushes towards the kid, and he...she, whatever, doesn’t move, just stands there and stares. When he’s close enough, he says, “It’s you, isn’t it?” The boy starts, licks hip lips, digs his hands in his pockets.
“I didn’t...didn’t think you recognized me,” he whispers, she whispers, and Jon just stares.
“Shit. What the hell, you...the fuck?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, steps backwards, slow. “I’ll, I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to hurt him, I l-love him, God, I do, it’s just...”
“Rachel,” Jon says, slowly, just for the satisfaction of seeing him flinch, “I don’t know what kind of asshole you thought he was...but just so you know, he’s out with a boy right now. He went home with a boy last night.”
And he refuses to think Ryan in his head, so he thinks Rachel, he thinks she, so that she steps back further, and her face is blank and white, washed clean.
“I, Jesus, are you kidding? Do, do you think I could talk to him, explain, would he...”
“I don’t fucking know what he’ll do,” Jon snaps, “but I’m pretty aware of how nice it would be to punch you right in the pretty mouth right now, so I would advise you to go,” he takes a deep breath, “before I do. You fuck with my friends, you fuck with me.”
And she nods again, turns around and walks away, leaving Jon standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands clenched into fists.
He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.
----------
“Hey, Bren, I really need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, uhm...” Brendon sits up, holding his finger up at Shane, laying sprawled on the bed. “Bad time.”
“It’s about...Rachel.”
“I...what? What do you mean?”
“I’m coming over.”
“You, no, I have company, you can’t just...”
“I don’t care, you need to hear this, Bren.”
“No, I don’t. She’s...gone.”
“Not, not in the way you thought. I can’t explain it to you now. I’ll...be right there.”
“Jon, I...”
And the phone goes dead. Brendon hangs up, turning to look at Shane with wide eyes.
“Alright,” Shane says, sitting up. “Should I be going?”
“No, you’re going to stay,” Brendon says, resting his hand on top of Shane’s, “because what he’s going to tell me is in the past, and you’re here now.”
----------
Brendon swings the door open when Jon knocks, still only in his boxers, Shane sitting calmly on the bed with his hands folded in his lap.
“Look,” he says, “I know this is...maybe you don’t care, but I can’t not tell you,” and he comes in, shutting the door behind him. Brendon just holds his hands in the air and shrugs, moving backwards to sit on the bed.
“Alright, whatever it is, out with it,” he says, impatient, and Jon swallows.
“Well, I ran into her today, except...”
“She was a he,” Shane interrupts, and he isn’t laughing.
“Uhm,” Brendon says, and then laughs, uneasy. “Are you, no, wait. What? I slept with her, guys, I’m pretty sure she’s...” he stops, opens his mouth to start again, and then sinks into the bed. “Okay, what the fuck?”
Jon goes, “I saw the guy from last night, except it was...”
“I know him,” Shane says, cutting Jon off, looking up at him. “Sorry, Jon, but...” and Jon nods, flops down in a chair, waits. “Ryan...used to be Rachel, used to be...” he looks up at Brendon, “your girlfriend, I guess. He talks about you sometimes, but I never realized it was you, I thought it was someone else, I thought. Well, uhm, actually,” he scratches his head, twists his mouth, “I don’t know what I thought.”
“The guy at the party?” Brendon says, to no one, to everyone, and they both nod.
“Well,” Shane pipes up again, “as much as he’s male on his birth certificate now, he isn’t, you know, male. He doesn’t know if he’s going to, you know,” he looks at Brendon, “I think, because of you.”
“I don’t own her,” Brendon snaps, voice rising sharp over the drone of the window air conditioner, eyes glossed and staring. “I never did.”
“She...he, whatever, fuck...wants to talk to you,” Jon says, and Brendon looks up, and Jon tries to figure out what he’s feeling - is he happy, sad, pissed off, indifferent? - but he can’t see anything but shock on his face, bleaching his cheeks and darkening his eyes.
“Yeah,” Brendon says, “well maybe I don’t want to talk to her.”