Fic: Footnote in a Fairy Tale 2/2
Part One
Brendon was a block away by the time Spencer caught up with him. He didn't stop walking, even when Spencer grabbed his arm. He could feel himself shaking. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking Ryan.
"Stop!" Spencer shouted, spinning him around. "Fucking stop. What was that?" He sounded angry and bewildered. "Seriously, what the hell was that?"
Brendon pushed him, and then staggered backwards when Spencer pushed him in return. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Yeah? Well tough shit," Spencer spat.
"It's none of your goddamn business," Brendon said heatedly. He turned away and carried on walking.
"Like hell it's not," Spencer replied, falling into step beside Brendon.
"Spencer, go home."
"Are you and Ryan sleeping together? How long has that been going on? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't he tell me?"
Brendon stopped and glared at him. "Which part of none of your business didn't you understand?"
"The part where my two best friends are practically having sex in an alley. With each other." Spencer crossed his arms and glared back. "You're going to tell me."
"You're going to be angry," Brendon said, closing his eyes.
Spencer snorted. "I'm already angry. I can't believe you've been lying to me."
"I haven't," Brendon protested. "I just didn't tell you everything."
"Well now's as good a time as any don't you think?"
Brendon sighed and looked around, hoping to delay the conversation as long as possible. "Here?"
"Wherever," Spencer said firmly. "Here, at home, Disneyland, but it better happen in the next ten minutes, or I'm going to Ryan's and asking him."
Brendon honestly couldn't imagine anything worse. "Home it is," he agreed with a shrug, and hailed a cab.
---
The ride back to Ryan's house was mostly silent. Jon kept his eyes fixed ahead on the road; Alex sat beside him, engrossed with something on his phone. Ryan wanted music, or inane chatter, or something to take his mind off the words repeating in his head - Brendon. Again. Why? Brendon, Brendon, Brendon - but he didn't dare speak; Jon looked pretty mad.
"So, when exactly were you going to tell me?" Jon asked as soon as they were inside. Ryan winced and walked through to the living room, shedding his vest and bracelets as he went. Jon followed. "Or were you never going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" Ryan asked, avoiding looking at both Jon and Alex.
"That is not the first time you and Brendon did that," Jon said, pointing pointlessly back towards the front door. "How long has that been going on?"
"It's not going on," Ryan insisted, raising his own voice to match Jon's. "There's nothing going on."
"Bullshit!"
Alex stepped around Jon and sat down on the sofa, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "Ryan, cut the crap, okay? Tell the truth."
Ryan looked between Alex and Jon and then turned away, rubbed his face. "The truth?" He laughed, harsh and defeated, and sank down to sit on the other sofa. "The truth is, we bumped into each other in London last month, and..." He shrugged and looked down at the floor. "We slept together."
"You..." Jon began and trailed off. He looked confused when Ryan had finally gathered the courage to look back up at him.
"We had sex Jon. A few times."
Jon paced the length of the room and then came back to stand in front of Ryan. "That was why you were awake at seven am?"
Ryan let out a surprised laugh. "That's what you're focused on?"
"You said nothing had happened."
"Yeah, well, I lied okay? What was I supposed to say? Hey guess what, I fucked Brendon and it was amazing, but I just woke up and he's gone, so maybe none of it actually happened and I'm just losing my mind?"
Jon knelt down in front of Ryan and smiled. "Yes. Why couldn't you just say that?"
Ryan frowned. "He left me, Jon."
"All the more reason to tell me, don't you think?" He put his hand on Ryan's knee and squeezed. "Something's going on there."
"No, Jon. It's Brendon. We spent one night together. He's just my friend."
"Who you haven't talked to in months." Ryan and Jon both turned their attention to Alex, who was playing with his phone again. "That one's going to cause a stir on Twitter." He looked up at them. "Do you think Brendon'll be jealous?"
Ryan threw a cushion at him. "This isn't fucking funny."
Alex caught the cushion and threw it back. "It kind of is though."
"I hate you."
Jon gave Ryan's knee a friendly pat as he stood up. Ryan knew better than to believe the conversation was over. "I have something that might help," Jon drawled, walking away towards the spare room. "Something relaxing."
---
Spencer was a master of the guilt trip, a fact that Brendon looked upon with admiration as long as he wasn't on the receiving end.
"Can I just make sure you know how much I resent this?" Brendon asked, marching straight through the house to the kitchen and grabbing himself a beer.
"Noted," Spencer replied tersely, watching him from the doorway, arms folded and looking equal parts angry and... hurt? confused? Something that made Brendon's stomach twist into knots, all the same. Angry he could deal with. Disappointing Spencer was another matter.
He grabbed another beer from the fridge and pushed it into Spencer's hands as he walked past him to the living room. "It happened once. When we were on tour, in London."
Brendon sat down heavily and raised the bottle to his lips. Spencer was frowning when he joined him, in a deep, concentrated way that told Brendon he was calculating how long it had been since the four of them played together in London.
"This last tour. In April. I know you remember because you checked your phone every hour to see if he'd called." Brendon took another drink. Ryan was an asshole. Brendon wanted to keep remembering that.
"Did he call you?" Spencer asked quietly, finally taking a seat next to him. He didn't sound angry anymore, but that just made the hurt and confused part worse.
"No," Brendon assured him quickly. "We just bumped into each other at a club. It was nothing. It was one stupid night. We didn't even talk about it. We didn't even say each other's names."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer sighed.
Brendon honestly didn't know how to answer. Spencer and Ryan had their own epic story going. Brendon really didn't want to make it any harder for him.
"I don't know," he said eventually and caught the way Spencer grimaced. "I don't okay? I don't know why I did it. I don't know why he did it. I haven't even seen him since. Until tonight."
"What about tonight?" Spencer asked. The hurt was fading too. The confusion probably never would. That was okay though. Brendon was dealing with the same problem.
Brendon shrugged. "It's Ryan. We're friends. I guess." Frustration surged inside him again. "I don't know Spence, okay? I just don't know. Maybe it's just six years worth of unresolved sexual tension."
"But it was resolved," Spencer pointed out. "In April." He sighed again and drank half of his beer before he continued. "I wish you'd told me."
"I'm sorry," Brendon apologised and Spencer nodded to show he was forgiven. "I'm still confused."
Spencer laughed. "Me too, man. Me too."
---
Ryan took a hit from the joint, eyes closed, feeling the smoke swirl and settle, before he passed it to Jon. They were lying, head to toe, on the deck at the back of Ryan's house. Alex lay on the other side of Ryan, with his head near to Jon's.
Ryan opened his eyes to a blanket of stars. He loved this. There was a feeling of freedom, of total clarity of mind, which probably shouldn't be possible, probably wasn't real, but comforted him all the same.
"How do you know when you're in love?" he asked quietly, though he wasn't sure who he was asking. The moon maybe. It was staring back at Ryan in a way that seemed purely accusatory. The moon didn't answer.
"With Cassie it feels like the sun is coming out," Jon drawled, slow and serious. "What did it feel like with Keltie?"
Alex started to giggle, high-pitched and ridiculous, his whole body curling up as he rolled onto his side to face Jon. "Shhhh."
Ryan ignored him. He thought about Keltie. He thought about loving her. He knew he had; right up to the moment he hadn't anymore. "It felt," he answered, minutes or months later, "quiet."
It made sense, even though it didn't. Jon didn't seem to understand but he was baked and Alex was still giggling, lost in his own hilarity. The moon, Ryan thought, would understand perfectly. "Hey, moon," he murmured.
Jon's hand covered his knee and the question in Ryan's head suddenly shifted. "What do you do when you realise you're in love?"
"Who are you in love with?" Alex asked, suddenly, almost painfully, sober.
Ryan didn't answer. Jon's hand was stroking his leg. It felt like he was willing him on. "I've never wanted anyone to be in love with me before."
"Bingo," Jon whispered. At least it sounded like Jon. The moon was shining a little brighter than it had been a minute ago.
---
It had been a quiet week. Spencer had been devoting his time, understandably, to Haley, and Brendon had been at something of a loose end. Pete had invited him to various "family outings" but after the first trip to the beach, Brendon had politely refused all further offers. It was obvious that Ashlee really wanted some time alone with Pete and Bronx, and Brendon knew Pete was too polite for his own good sometimes.
So Brendon had spent the week mostly alone, determined to enjoy himself and not obsess over anything. Or anyone. He'd been surfing every day, playing with the dogs so much even they were bored with him, and had spent a whole day shut up in his bedroom with his guitar, writing something new. By the time the weekend came around again, he felt accomplished, but still restless.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked Shane on Saturday afternoon, while they lounged on opposite sofas watching a Family Guy marathon. Shane hummed and took a sip of his beer without looking away from the screen. Brendon assumed this meant yes. "About Reagan?"
Shane did look at him then, mouth quirked up on one side, eyes gleaming. "For the last time Brendon. No threesomes."
Brendon kicked at Shane's leg and rolled his eyes when Shane started to laugh. "I'm serious."
Shane rolled onto his side to face him properly. "Go ahead."
It took a moment to work himself back up to saying it. Shane was staring at him now. Brendon felt like an idiot. "Was it really fast? Falling for her, I mean. Or did it build up slowly?"
Shane looked surprised, but if he found the question odd, he didn't say so. "It was really fast. I think I'd have told her I loved her after our first date, if I hadn't thought she'd be scared off." He stopped and smiled. "Why?"
Brendon ignored the question and replied with a new one of his own. "Hypothetically, if you fell in love with me..." Shane scrambled up into a seated position, looking a little scared; Brendon waved his hand, dismissively. "Calm down. I said hypothetically. If you did, do you think you'd have been falling in love with me since we met, or do you think it could still be sudden?"
Shane was still staring at him like a startled deer. "Brendon, you're not..."
"I'm not falling for you. It's just a question." Brendon willed himelf not to blush.
"Is it Spencer?" Shane asked, suspicious.
Brendon sighed and stood up, scooping up the empty beer bottles from the coffee table. "Forget it. I just.. Forget it."
"Hey, no." Shane grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Sorry, look, ask again okay? I'm listening."
"Shane..."
"Ask again!"
Brendon fell back onto the sofa beside Shane, leaning his head back against the cushions and closing his eyes. "Do you think you could fall in love with a friend overnight, or do you think it would have been building right from the start?"
"I think it all depends on the friend." Brendon opened one eye to find Shane watching him, curiously. "Have you fallen in love with someone?"
"No," Brendon answered decisively. "I'm just wondering what it means if I do."
"Well if it was me, it would mean you had extremely good taste," Shane said, nudging him with his shoulder.
Brendon smiled. "And if it was Spencer?" Shane's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not Spencer," Brendon sighed.
"Well, if it were Spencer, then I'd say it had happened overnight."
Brendon nodded. There was a stain on the carpet, he noticed. Red wine. He wondered how long it had been there. He felt his face getting hot and kept his eyes fixed on the mark when he asked, "And if it was Ryan?"
Shane sighed and wrapped his arms around him. "Then I don't know what I'd say."
Brendon closed his eyes and let his head rest against Shane's. "Yeah. Me neither."
---
It took a plane, a bus and a cab to get there. Ryan supposed he could have, should have, rented a car, but his hands were shaking so badly when he handed over the money to the driver that he thought it was a good thing he hadn't. He hitched his backpack higher and looked across the nicely mown lawn, up to the pretty, suburban house. He wished, not for the first time, that he had a pack of cigarettes to smoke. Or Spencer's hand to hold.
He walked up the drive and took a deep breath with every one of the porch steps, wondering why some things never changed, no matter how much time had passed. He thought about Jon's message, the one that had been waiting for him when he got off the plane. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.
"Ryan!" his mother exclaimed when she pulled open the door, surprise evident in her voice. "I wasn't... You never said you were coming."
Ryan allowed himself to be hugged and shuffled inside. He dropped his backpack and looked around the house, still unfamiliar after all this time. "It was sort of a spur of the moment thing. I just, wanted to talk to you." He shrugged and carefully avoided looking at his mother's face.
"Well take a seat honey," she said softly, reaching for his shoulder. He side-stepped the gesture and sat down stiffly on the couch. "Can I get you a drink?"
He shrugged again, hating himself for it, and then nodded. "Sure."
She smiled at him and walked off towards the kitchen, glancing back over her shoulder a couple of times. Ryan wondered idly if she even knew the sort of things he liked, and bit down on his lip feeling angry with himself for even thinking it. A few minutes later she returned with a tall glass of orange juice and a chicken sandwich.
"I thought you'd be hungry. It's a long way to come for a chat." She sat down next to him, close but not touching. He wished she'd stop staring but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He started to eat his sandwich. "You're too thin."
Ryan swallowed his food before he started to choke as the laughter bubbled up. "Mom. Jesus Christ."
"Don't talk to me like that, Ryan."
"Then stop acting all maternal. It didn't take the first time, why would it now?" It came out a lot more bitter than he felt. Part of him wished he could take it back. Part of him just wanted to keep talking. He glanced at her and the guilt swelled up when he saw the look on her face. He stamped that back down too. "Sorry."
She shook her head a little and kept her tone as light as possible when she said, "Is this the part where you blame me for everything that's wrong with your life?"
"No," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
"Ryan, I'm s..."
"If you finish that sentence I'll leave, I swear to God I will."
"Okay."
Ryan pushed the plate with the half-eaten sandwich back onto the coffee table and sighed. "I didn't know where else to go. You're the only family I have."
His mother winced but reached out towards him again and this time he didn't pull away when she ran her hand down his back. "You can always talk to me."
There was a memory in the back of Ryan's head, fighting to get out. Something that had happened a few years ago, sitting in the Smith's kitchen with Spencer and his parents and the twins. He didn't remember what they'd been doing, but he did remember Ginger's hand on his hair, suddenly, out of nowhere, just a silent, reassuring, "hey kid, everything's okay." He squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated on the present; on his mother's hand pressing warmly against his back. It felt a little late.
"There's a guy, a friend. Maybe. I think I like him. I mean, I think I..." He stopped short and looked up nervously. His mother didn't look upset, or even terribly surprised. "I don't know about that. It doesn't feel like it did with Keltie." Something flickered in her eyes. "What?"
She shrugged and looked down at his hands which were twisting awkwardly in his lap. "I was just thinking that was probably a good thing. Considering." She reached out and took hold of his hands, forcing him to turn towards her. "Is it...? Who is it?"
"Brendon." He was proud of the way his voice didn't shake when he said it.
"I never met him," his mother said, causing Ryan to roll his eyes.
"You don't have to tell me that. I was there. He was there. Where were you?" Ryan was vaguely aware that his voice was getting louder. His mother closed her eyes, but tightened her grip on his hands.
"Ryan, stop."
He stopped, sighed and sagged against her, closing his eyes when her arms went around him. "The only person I want to talk to about this, won't talk to me."
She stroked her hair. He felt her lips move against his forehead. "Have you tried? Because if I know Spencer..."
"Which you don't," he muttered. She merely tightened her arms.
"If I know Spencer, he'll want to fix everything for you. I know he's Brendon's friend too, but you know he loves you."
"I don't know that I do know that anymore," Ryan whispered, hoping it would be muffled enough not to be caught.
"Oh baby," she murmured back. For once he let it go. "You're so silly sometimes."
He started to laugh, thinking that if he didn't he'd have to cry. "Can I stay for a while?"
She kissed his head. "You never have to ask."
---
Ryan called Jon on his way back to the airport two days later.
"How was it?" Jon asked, as soon as he heard Ryan's voice.
"It was fine," he answered, staring out of the bus window, wishing he could somehow magically be home, that instant, and wrapped safely in one of Jon's hugs. "She wasn't surprised about Brendon. She said..." He laughed absently. "She said she'd expected something like that for years."
"Mom's are good like that."
And Ryan knew, he knew, Jon was only trying to help but really, no. "Not all of us had the happy Walton's-style existence growing up that you had. My mom doesn't know shit about me."
Jon, being Jon, took it all in his stride. "Well she obviously knows more than you give her credit for, Ryan. It's time you let go."
Ryan sighed and let his head fall against the cool glass. "I have."
"Besides," Jon continued, "Your childhood wasn't all bad. You started a band, you had a surrogate family, you had Sp..."
Ryan nodded even though he knew Jon couldn't see him. "I had Spencer."
"You still have him, you know. You should talk to him."
Ryan didn't answer. He changed the subject and was grateful that Jon allowed him to. They talked about nothing for a while, until the bus arrived at the airport and they ended the call with Jon promising to pick Ryan up later.
Once he was checked in and through security, he settled down at the gate with a Chai Tea Latte and the last few chapters of his book. On impulse he sent a text to Spencer that said
been 2 c mom. she says hi. wish u were here.
He spent the next hour before boarding pretending he didn't care that Spencer hadn't texted back.
When he arrived at LAX, three hours later, Spencer was waiting for him.
---
They walked to the car in silence and Ryan spent much of the time glancing sideways at Spencer, wondering what he was thinking. Getting out of the airport was always hell, so Ryan stayed quiet as Spencer drove, trying to come up with a way to ask what was going on without it sounding like "I miss you."
"You're angry," he said eventually, as they pulled out onto the freeway. Spencer nodded. "Is it about Brendon?"
Spencer's jaw clenched and Ryan looked away. He was starting to feel uncomfortable.
"That's on the list."
A list didn't sound good.
They continued on without saying anything to each other, until they reached the exit for Ryan's house and Spencer drove straight on by without so much as a glance in Ryan's direction.
"Where are we going?" Ryan asked, quietly. He wasn't entirely surprised when Spencer didn't answer.
Ryan fumbled through his bag for his phone, noticing a text message from Jon that said, S insisted. Good luck. He curled up in his seat and rested his forehead against the window. Outside there was only the harsh orange glow of the street lights and beyond that, darkness. Ryan looked back at Spencer and lifted his phone to take a picture. He posted it to Twitter with a single word, Home, and promptly fell asleep.
---
He woke up an hour later to find the car parked on a bluff, overlooking the sea, and Spencer watching him sleep.
"Creeper," Ryan said through a yawn, as he stretched.
Spencer looked angry, yet amused. "I was just wondering what I did to deserve a best friend who is as dumb as you."
"Just lucky I guess." Ryan's back cracked and he winced, sitting up.
"You're an asshole," Spencer said, matter-of-fact.
Ryan nodded. "So I'm told."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "Do you remember the first day we met?" Ryan blinked, confused by the sudden change of subject, but nodded. "I looked at you and I thought, I want to be friends with him." He hit Ryan's arm, when Ryan opened his mouth to speak. "Shut up. I have not ever, for one minute, regretted that. Even with all the stupid shit you've done over the years. Don't you dare doubt me."
"You stopped calling," Ryan struggled to get out, his voice thick and painful.
Spencer hit him again. "So did you. Phones work two ways, Ryan. Why do I always have to be the one chasing after you? If you want me, all you have to do is ask."
"I was scared," Ryan said, honestly.
"Bullshit," Spencer spat back and grabbed Ryan's arms, dragging him round to face him. "Scared of what? Me? Am I really that terrifying?"
Ryan met Spencer's eyes and nodded. "Yes. Yes, because you don't need me now." The look on Spencer's face shifted from angry to sad, and Ryan began to struggle, trying to get free. "Fuck you. I don't need your fucking pity okay? Get off me."
Instead of letting go, Spencer tightened his grip on Ryan's arms and shook him a little. "It's not pity, dickface. Stop struggling and fucking listen to me." Ryan stopped moving, holding himself stiff and still, away from Spencer. "I will always need you. Always. I mean, Jesus, Ryan, I... You know."
Ryan went limp under Spencer's hands and allowed himself to be pulled forward against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Spencer and breathed in deeply. "I miss you."
Spencer kissed the top of his head and Ryan suddenly felt more warm and safe than he had in months; since before he woke up alone in London and realized nothing in his life made sense anymore.
---
Ryan wasn't sure how much time had passed when Spencer murmured that maybe they should get some air. He didn't care if it had been a couple of minutes or a couple of hours. It hadn't been long enough. They got out of the car and walked close to the cliff edge. Ryan sat down and concentrated his gaze on the moonlight hitting the water; he began tearing up blades of grass with hands.
"You always do that," Spencer said, sitting down in front of him. Their knees were touching. "When you're nervous, or bored. Right now I'm thinking nervous." Ryan wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, and said so. "Just pointing out how well I know you," Spencer replied, stilling Ryan's hands by taking them in his own.
"Better than my mom," Ryan agreed, and squeezed Spencer's hands.
"I would have come with you."
It was possible, Ryan thought, that he was an even bigger idiot than everyone declared him to be. "I'd have had to tell you why I was going," he told Spencer. "I really didn't want to have that conversation."
Spencer shrugged and said, amused, "And now we're having it anyway. Sucks to be you."
Ryan laughed. "Sometimes."
"Ryan," Spencer said firmly, jostling him a little. "What's going on? Is this about Brendon?"
There was no easy way to say it. Ryan wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to be saying. Brendon must have told Spencer what had happened between them in London. Everything else was too indistinct.
"I'll make it easy for you, shall I?" Spencer asked, leaning in to rest his forehead against Ryan's. "He told me about London. He said you slept together."
"Yeah," Ryan breathed, staring at Spencer's hands, wrapped around his.
"What were you thinking?"
Ryan laughed again, though it was harder and angrier than before. "What the fuck do you think I was thinking? I was thinking, 'I'd really like to have sex with that guy' and then that guy turned out to be Brendon."
"So why not stop?" Spencer didn't sound angry and Ryan was grateful that, if he felt it, at least he was hiding it.
"I didn't want to stop. He was all I wanted right then. And it must have been the same for him, because he didn't stop either. I didn't force this on him..." Ryan's voice was getting louder and he sat back, away from Spencer, tugging his hands free. Spencer wasn't letting him get away easily.
"I know you didn't. He never said otherwise. He said he wanted you too." Spencer sighed. "I still don't understand."
"Well," Ryan said, finally, "neither do I."
---
They stopped at a diner on the way back to Ryan's house. It was the kind of tiny road-side place that could be found anywhere. Ryan thought, if he tried hard enough, he could believe they were still in Vegas and that none of the intervening years had taken place. Spencer nudged Ryan's leg with his own under the table and smiled. It was possible Spencer was thinking the same thing. The waitress took their order and left them alone.
"So what are you going to do?" Spencer asked, sipping his water.
"About what?" Ryan replied, looking around the brightly lit room.
"About Brendon," Spencer said. Ryan heard him roll his eyes.
Ryan shrugged and drank some of his water, waiting until Spencer nudged him again, harder this time. "I'm not sure there's anything to do. He doesn't want to be with me. I'm just going to have to get over it." He paused, his face twisting up in a wry smile. "Whatever it is."
"How do you know he doesn't want you?" Spencer asked, with a frown. "You never discussed it with him. Maybe if you'd hung around to talk afterwards..."
"What?" Ryan interrupted, surprised into a disbelieving laugh. "What do you mean, 'if I'd hung around'? It was my hotel room. He left me."
Spencer sat silently, watching him, mouth hanging open a little. Ryan nodded slowly, waiting for Spencer to realize that no, Brendon hadn't been totally honest with him either. Not that Ryan could blame him.
"It's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault. It just happened." Ryan looked up at the waitress when she arrived with their food, and thanked her. Spencer was still watching him. Ryan concentrated on his meal. "I tried, but he's the only one I want." He shrugged again. "Just Brendon."
Spencer nodded and started to eat. Ryan followed his lead. They didn't say anything else for a while and when Spencer finally spoke, it was to ask about the new My Chemical Romance album. Ryan felt sixteen again. It was a nice feeling.
---
Brendon came back from walking the dogs to find Haley alone in the living room, reading. He paused in the doorway, wondering if he could make an escape before she noticed him.
"Brendon?"
No such luck.
"Hey," he smiled, walking over to her. "All alone?"
"Spencer went to pick up Ryan." Her voice was deceptively innocent.
Brendon sat down heavily, unsure what to comment on first. "You know then?"
"That you had hot monkey sex with Ryan?" Her eyes were gleaming. Brendon wanted to die. "Spencer may have mentioned it."
"Did he use the phrase 'hot money sex'?" he asked, wrapping his arms protectively around a cushion. "Because if he did, I may to kill him."
"He did not," Haley laughed, finally closing her book and tossing it onto the end table. "He just said..." She trailed off and shrugged. "You want to talk about it?"
"I can't begin to tell you how much I do not," Brendon assured her. Then he frowned. "Pick Ryan up from where?"
"The airport," Haley told him, stretching her legs out over his lap. "He said he didn't know when he'd be back, which means drama I guess. I didn't ask." She fidgeted a little, trying to get comfortable. "Are you the cause of the drama?"
"Ryan is the cause of whatever drama exists between Ryan and Spencer." Brendon was almost certain. "Spencer doesn't talk to me about Ryan. He never has."
Haley nodded. Brendon wondered whether Spencer talked to her about it. Probably not.
"Can I ask you something?" she said, smiling wider when he looked nervously at her. "Nothing about the hot monkey sex, I promise."
Brendon shrugged. "Okay."
"You're still friends, right? You and Ryan?"
"Could you start with an easier one?" Brendon joked, only not really. It couldn't be a joke if he'd been asking himself the same question for months.
"Okay," she said, curling up a little more. "Do you love him?"
"That's easier?" Brendon asked, laughing.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Do you love everyone you've ever slept with?" Brendon asked, realising too late that that was the stupidest question ever.
"Yes," she said softly. "But that's not my point."
"Then I can't wait for you to get to it."
Haley sighed and shifted until she could wrap an arm around him. "It's not about being in love right now. It's about whether he's important enough for you to find out."
Brendon closed his eyes and rested his head against Haley's. "That was a good point."
---
It was late when Spencer arrived home, or early Brendon supposed, depending on which side you were seeing it from. The house was dark and Brendon had been lying alone on the couch, waiting, since Haley had gone to bed two hours earlier. He heard Spencer's keys hit the table in the hall and wondered if he could get away with never having this conversation.
"Spencer?"
Spencer's footsteps changed direction and carried him back towards the living room. "Brendon? What are you still doing up? In the dark."
"I couldn't sleep," Brendon told him, but didn't move. His eyes were well adjusted to the dim moonlight shining through the window. "I like the dark. How's Ryan?"
Spencer sighed and shuffled closer. Maybe he never wanted to have this conversation either. "He went to see his mom. He's just as confused as you are."
Brendon let Spencer squeeze onto the sofa beside him and felt something in his chest relax. "Did you make up?"
"Yeah." Spencer's voice was firm but gentle. "Your turn."
"It's not that easy," Brendon said with a snort. "It's not the same for us as it is for you. I can't tell everything he's thinking just by looking at his face, and you know we never talk about the important stuff without fighting."
"Is that why you left him?"
Brendon thought that should have been obvious, but he hummed in agreement and tightened his arms around Spencer. "I was scared. I'm still scared."
"Of Ryan?" Brendon could hear the disbelief in Spencer's voice.
"Of course, of Ryan. If we stay like this, if we never talk, it's easy enough to pretend we're still friends. If I try and lose my friend..." Brendon trailed off into silence, thinking. Spencer stayed quiet and waited. "What happens if things get worse? What happens if I lose him altogether?"
Spencer tilted his head back and met Brendon's eyes. Even in the dark, Brendon could see he understood. "Then you lose. You just have to decide whether it's worth the risk."
---
Three days after Jon arrived back in LA from Chicago, this time with Cassie in tow, they agreed to play at a local bar, near to Ryan's house, just the two of them and their guitars. It had become something of a habit for them, when they were just starting off. They both liked being able to go out into the bar afterwards and have a drink, talk to the fans that had stayed with them, maybe sign a couple of things. They didn't even have a set list, they just played what they felt like playing. It felt very civilised. This time they'd only posted the information on their website the night before. They weren't expecting a huge crowd. Mostly it would be regulars. Ryan knew a few of them by name now.
The bar-room was almost empty when Ryan finally made it out front after the show. Jon had swept Cassie away to the house and Ryan had promised he wouldn't be back early. His plan was to sit with one beer and make it last through a long conversation with the bartender. Then... well. He'd see what happened.
His plan however, was foiled by the man sitting, hunched over, at the bar. He was playing with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around and only occasionally taking a sip. Ryan felt his heart do a stupid flip and speed up. He took a deep breath and walked over, slowly.
"How long have you been here?" he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to Brendon. He waved at the bartender and pointed at Brendon's glass.
"I came for your set," Brendon answered, without looking at him. "You were very good."
"Thank you," Ryan said, knowing that Brendon was at least being sincere. He was one of the few people who knew when Brendon was lying. Something about that thought made him feel better. He slid some money across the bar in exchange for the drink.
"I've been before," Brendon continued. "I've been a few times. I usually stay at the back, out of the way."
"You never said." Ryan tilted his head, trying to gauge what Brendon was thinking. It was difficult when he wouldn't even look Ryan's way.
Brendon shrugged. "I wasn't sure you'd want me to."
"Why wouldn't I?" Ryan downed his drink and replaced the glass ever so carefully on his napkin. "We're still friends Brendon. We just... forgot."
"Do you think we can remember again?"
Ryan nudged Brendon gently. "We're both pretty smart, for being so stupid. We can figure it out."
Brendon tipped his glass towards Ryan and finally, finally, finally, turned his head to look at him. "Are you happy?"
Ryan was surprised. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"This makes you happy?" Brendon swept his arm around, gesturing at the bar.
Ryan didn't even need to look. "It does," he said, quiet and determined. "Brendon, we don't want the same things from this anymore. You think I want to be singing songs about my dad when I'm thirty? That was what I needed to do then and this is what I need to do now."
"I don't understand," Brendon told him. He was frowning, but he was leaning on the bar, head resting on one propped up arm, listening.
"I had to be the adult when you were stumbling around drunk every night." He held up his hand when Brendon went to argue. "And that was my choice. I'm not angry about it. I just..." He shrugged. "This is my time to find out who I am."
"Why couldn't you do that with us?"
And that was the million dollar question wasn't it? Ryan didn't look away from Brendon. "I don't know."
Brendon nodded and looked back down at his drink.
"But when I figure it out, I'm still going to need you," Ryan said, honestly.
There was a smile, at last, and Brendon finished his drink. "That's all I need."
Ryan smiled back, relaxed and hopeful.
"And you're sure it wasn't...?"
"What?"
"Me?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break, Brendon. The world does not revolve around you. I didn't leave the band because I was in love with you. I'm still not totally sure I am in love with you."
One of Brendon's eyebrows inched upwards. "Well that's good, because I'm not sure I'm in love with you either."
"That seems perfectly sensible," Ryan agreed, nodding.
Brendon managed to keep a straight face for another thirty seconds and then started to laugh. Ryan joined him a second later and soon they were almost lying across the bar, laughing, their heads bent close together until they caught their breath and each other's eyes.
"But I want to find out," Brendon told him softly, as soon as he had composed himself.
Ryan's smile was small but genuine and his eyes were shining. "I do too."
"So," Brendon said, sitting back up again, "do you maybe want to go out for dinner sometime?"
Ryan sat up, slowly and frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Uh," it was Brendon's turn to frown, "asking you out?"
Ryan looked truly bewildered. "Like I'm some girl you're picking up?"
"What did I do?"
"Brendon," Ryan snorted, "I've known you since we were sixteen. You've thrown up on me. You've passed out on me at three am, wearing nothing but make-up and socks. I've seen you wear the same underwear for three days straight, because you couldn't be bothered to do your laundry. Ask me like I'm Ryan."
"You're a freak."
Ryan held up his hands. "Hey, if you don't want to..."
"Hey, assface," Brendon interrupted, rolling his eyes. "I'm offering pizza and beer. And maybe a b-j in the car after, if you're good."
Ryan slid off the barstool and leaned in to kiss Brendon's cheek. "Was that so hard?"
Brendon stood up and took his hand, leading him towards the exit. "No. Not hard at all."
The End
Brendon was a block away by the time Spencer caught up with him. He didn't stop walking, even when Spencer grabbed his arm. He could feel himself shaking. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking Ryan.
"Stop!" Spencer shouted, spinning him around. "Fucking stop. What was that?" He sounded angry and bewildered. "Seriously, what the hell was that?"
Brendon pushed him, and then staggered backwards when Spencer pushed him in return. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Yeah? Well tough shit," Spencer spat.
"It's none of your goddamn business," Brendon said heatedly. He turned away and carried on walking.
"Like hell it's not," Spencer replied, falling into step beside Brendon.
"Spencer, go home."
"Are you and Ryan sleeping together? How long has that been going on? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't he tell me?"
Brendon stopped and glared at him. "Which part of none of your business didn't you understand?"
"The part where my two best friends are practically having sex in an alley. With each other." Spencer crossed his arms and glared back. "You're going to tell me."
"You're going to be angry," Brendon said, closing his eyes.
Spencer snorted. "I'm already angry. I can't believe you've been lying to me."
"I haven't," Brendon protested. "I just didn't tell you everything."
"Well now's as good a time as any don't you think?"
Brendon sighed and looked around, hoping to delay the conversation as long as possible. "Here?"
"Wherever," Spencer said firmly. "Here, at home, Disneyland, but it better happen in the next ten minutes, or I'm going to Ryan's and asking him."
Brendon honestly couldn't imagine anything worse. "Home it is," he agreed with a shrug, and hailed a cab.
---
The ride back to Ryan's house was mostly silent. Jon kept his eyes fixed ahead on the road; Alex sat beside him, engrossed with something on his phone. Ryan wanted music, or inane chatter, or something to take his mind off the words repeating in his head - Brendon. Again. Why? Brendon, Brendon, Brendon - but he didn't dare speak; Jon looked pretty mad.
"So, when exactly were you going to tell me?" Jon asked as soon as they were inside. Ryan winced and walked through to the living room, shedding his vest and bracelets as he went. Jon followed. "Or were you never going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?" Ryan asked, avoiding looking at both Jon and Alex.
"That is not the first time you and Brendon did that," Jon said, pointing pointlessly back towards the front door. "How long has that been going on?"
"It's not going on," Ryan insisted, raising his own voice to match Jon's. "There's nothing going on."
"Bullshit!"
Alex stepped around Jon and sat down on the sofa, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "Ryan, cut the crap, okay? Tell the truth."
Ryan looked between Alex and Jon and then turned away, rubbed his face. "The truth?" He laughed, harsh and defeated, and sank down to sit on the other sofa. "The truth is, we bumped into each other in London last month, and..." He shrugged and looked down at the floor. "We slept together."
"You..." Jon began and trailed off. He looked confused when Ryan had finally gathered the courage to look back up at him.
"We had sex Jon. A few times."
Jon paced the length of the room and then came back to stand in front of Ryan. "That was why you were awake at seven am?"
Ryan let out a surprised laugh. "That's what you're focused on?"
"You said nothing had happened."
"Yeah, well, I lied okay? What was I supposed to say? Hey guess what, I fucked Brendon and it was amazing, but I just woke up and he's gone, so maybe none of it actually happened and I'm just losing my mind?"
Jon knelt down in front of Ryan and smiled. "Yes. Why couldn't you just say that?"
Ryan frowned. "He left me, Jon."
"All the more reason to tell me, don't you think?" He put his hand on Ryan's knee and squeezed. "Something's going on there."
"No, Jon. It's Brendon. We spent one night together. He's just my friend."
"Who you haven't talked to in months." Ryan and Jon both turned their attention to Alex, who was playing with his phone again. "That one's going to cause a stir on Twitter." He looked up at them. "Do you think Brendon'll be jealous?"
Ryan threw a cushion at him. "This isn't fucking funny."
Alex caught the cushion and threw it back. "It kind of is though."
"I hate you."
Jon gave Ryan's knee a friendly pat as he stood up. Ryan knew better than to believe the conversation was over. "I have something that might help," Jon drawled, walking away towards the spare room. "Something relaxing."
---
Spencer was a master of the guilt trip, a fact that Brendon looked upon with admiration as long as he wasn't on the receiving end.
"Can I just make sure you know how much I resent this?" Brendon asked, marching straight through the house to the kitchen and grabbing himself a beer.
"Noted," Spencer replied tersely, watching him from the doorway, arms folded and looking equal parts angry and... hurt? confused? Something that made Brendon's stomach twist into knots, all the same. Angry he could deal with. Disappointing Spencer was another matter.
He grabbed another beer from the fridge and pushed it into Spencer's hands as he walked past him to the living room. "It happened once. When we were on tour, in London."
Brendon sat down heavily and raised the bottle to his lips. Spencer was frowning when he joined him, in a deep, concentrated way that told Brendon he was calculating how long it had been since the four of them played together in London.
"This last tour. In April. I know you remember because you checked your phone every hour to see if he'd called." Brendon took another drink. Ryan was an asshole. Brendon wanted to keep remembering that.
"Did he call you?" Spencer asked quietly, finally taking a seat next to him. He didn't sound angry anymore, but that just made the hurt and confused part worse.
"No," Brendon assured him quickly. "We just bumped into each other at a club. It was nothing. It was one stupid night. We didn't even talk about it. We didn't even say each other's names."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer sighed.
Brendon honestly didn't know how to answer. Spencer and Ryan had their own epic story going. Brendon really didn't want to make it any harder for him.
"I don't know," he said eventually and caught the way Spencer grimaced. "I don't okay? I don't know why I did it. I don't know why he did it. I haven't even seen him since. Until tonight."
"What about tonight?" Spencer asked. The hurt was fading too. The confusion probably never would. That was okay though. Brendon was dealing with the same problem.
Brendon shrugged. "It's Ryan. We're friends. I guess." Frustration surged inside him again. "I don't know Spence, okay? I just don't know. Maybe it's just six years worth of unresolved sexual tension."
"But it was resolved," Spencer pointed out. "In April." He sighed again and drank half of his beer before he continued. "I wish you'd told me."
"I'm sorry," Brendon apologised and Spencer nodded to show he was forgiven. "I'm still confused."
Spencer laughed. "Me too, man. Me too."
---
Ryan took a hit from the joint, eyes closed, feeling the smoke swirl and settle, before he passed it to Jon. They were lying, head to toe, on the deck at the back of Ryan's house. Alex lay on the other side of Ryan, with his head near to Jon's.
Ryan opened his eyes to a blanket of stars. He loved this. There was a feeling of freedom, of total clarity of mind, which probably shouldn't be possible, probably wasn't real, but comforted him all the same.
"How do you know when you're in love?" he asked quietly, though he wasn't sure who he was asking. The moon maybe. It was staring back at Ryan in a way that seemed purely accusatory. The moon didn't answer.
"With Cassie it feels like the sun is coming out," Jon drawled, slow and serious. "What did it feel like with Keltie?"
Alex started to giggle, high-pitched and ridiculous, his whole body curling up as he rolled onto his side to face Jon. "Shhhh."
Ryan ignored him. He thought about Keltie. He thought about loving her. He knew he had; right up to the moment he hadn't anymore. "It felt," he answered, minutes or months later, "quiet."
It made sense, even though it didn't. Jon didn't seem to understand but he was baked and Alex was still giggling, lost in his own hilarity. The moon, Ryan thought, would understand perfectly. "Hey, moon," he murmured.
Jon's hand covered his knee and the question in Ryan's head suddenly shifted. "What do you do when you realise you're in love?"
"Who are you in love with?" Alex asked, suddenly, almost painfully, sober.
Ryan didn't answer. Jon's hand was stroking his leg. It felt like he was willing him on. "I've never wanted anyone to be in love with me before."
"Bingo," Jon whispered. At least it sounded like Jon. The moon was shining a little brighter than it had been a minute ago.
---
It had been a quiet week. Spencer had been devoting his time, understandably, to Haley, and Brendon had been at something of a loose end. Pete had invited him to various "family outings" but after the first trip to the beach, Brendon had politely refused all further offers. It was obvious that Ashlee really wanted some time alone with Pete and Bronx, and Brendon knew Pete was too polite for his own good sometimes.
So Brendon had spent the week mostly alone, determined to enjoy himself and not obsess over anything. Or anyone. He'd been surfing every day, playing with the dogs so much even they were bored with him, and had spent a whole day shut up in his bedroom with his guitar, writing something new. By the time the weekend came around again, he felt accomplished, but still restless.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked Shane on Saturday afternoon, while they lounged on opposite sofas watching a Family Guy marathon. Shane hummed and took a sip of his beer without looking away from the screen. Brendon assumed this meant yes. "About Reagan?"
Shane did look at him then, mouth quirked up on one side, eyes gleaming. "For the last time Brendon. No threesomes."
Brendon kicked at Shane's leg and rolled his eyes when Shane started to laugh. "I'm serious."
Shane rolled onto his side to face him properly. "Go ahead."
It took a moment to work himself back up to saying it. Shane was staring at him now. Brendon felt like an idiot. "Was it really fast? Falling for her, I mean. Or did it build up slowly?"
Shane looked surprised, but if he found the question odd, he didn't say so. "It was really fast. I think I'd have told her I loved her after our first date, if I hadn't thought she'd be scared off." He stopped and smiled. "Why?"
Brendon ignored the question and replied with a new one of his own. "Hypothetically, if you fell in love with me..." Shane scrambled up into a seated position, looking a little scared; Brendon waved his hand, dismissively. "Calm down. I said hypothetically. If you did, do you think you'd have been falling in love with me since we met, or do you think it could still be sudden?"
Shane was still staring at him like a startled deer. "Brendon, you're not..."
"I'm not falling for you. It's just a question." Brendon willed himelf not to blush.
"Is it Spencer?" Shane asked, suspicious.
Brendon sighed and stood up, scooping up the empty beer bottles from the coffee table. "Forget it. I just.. Forget it."
"Hey, no." Shane grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Sorry, look, ask again okay? I'm listening."
"Shane..."
"Ask again!"
Brendon fell back onto the sofa beside Shane, leaning his head back against the cushions and closing his eyes. "Do you think you could fall in love with a friend overnight, or do you think it would have been building right from the start?"
"I think it all depends on the friend." Brendon opened one eye to find Shane watching him, curiously. "Have you fallen in love with someone?"
"No," Brendon answered decisively. "I'm just wondering what it means if I do."
"Well if it was me, it would mean you had extremely good taste," Shane said, nudging him with his shoulder.
Brendon smiled. "And if it was Spencer?" Shane's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not Spencer," Brendon sighed.
"Well, if it were Spencer, then I'd say it had happened overnight."
Brendon nodded. There was a stain on the carpet, he noticed. Red wine. He wondered how long it had been there. He felt his face getting hot and kept his eyes fixed on the mark when he asked, "And if it was Ryan?"
Shane sighed and wrapped his arms around him. "Then I don't know what I'd say."
Brendon closed his eyes and let his head rest against Shane's. "Yeah. Me neither."
---
It took a plane, a bus and a cab to get there. Ryan supposed he could have, should have, rented a car, but his hands were shaking so badly when he handed over the money to the driver that he thought it was a good thing he hadn't. He hitched his backpack higher and looked across the nicely mown lawn, up to the pretty, suburban house. He wished, not for the first time, that he had a pack of cigarettes to smoke. Or Spencer's hand to hold.
He walked up the drive and took a deep breath with every one of the porch steps, wondering why some things never changed, no matter how much time had passed. He thought about Jon's message, the one that had been waiting for him when he got off the plane. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.
"Ryan!" his mother exclaimed when she pulled open the door, surprise evident in her voice. "I wasn't... You never said you were coming."
Ryan allowed himself to be hugged and shuffled inside. He dropped his backpack and looked around the house, still unfamiliar after all this time. "It was sort of a spur of the moment thing. I just, wanted to talk to you." He shrugged and carefully avoided looking at his mother's face.
"Well take a seat honey," she said softly, reaching for his shoulder. He side-stepped the gesture and sat down stiffly on the couch. "Can I get you a drink?"
He shrugged again, hating himself for it, and then nodded. "Sure."
She smiled at him and walked off towards the kitchen, glancing back over her shoulder a couple of times. Ryan wondered idly if she even knew the sort of things he liked, and bit down on his lip feeling angry with himself for even thinking it. A few minutes later she returned with a tall glass of orange juice and a chicken sandwich.
"I thought you'd be hungry. It's a long way to come for a chat." She sat down next to him, close but not touching. He wished she'd stop staring but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He started to eat his sandwich. "You're too thin."
Ryan swallowed his food before he started to choke as the laughter bubbled up. "Mom. Jesus Christ."
"Don't talk to me like that, Ryan."
"Then stop acting all maternal. It didn't take the first time, why would it now?" It came out a lot more bitter than he felt. Part of him wished he could take it back. Part of him just wanted to keep talking. He glanced at her and the guilt swelled up when he saw the look on her face. He stamped that back down too. "Sorry."
She shook her head a little and kept her tone as light as possible when she said, "Is this the part where you blame me for everything that's wrong with your life?"
"No," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
"Ryan, I'm s..."
"If you finish that sentence I'll leave, I swear to God I will."
"Okay."
Ryan pushed the plate with the half-eaten sandwich back onto the coffee table and sighed. "I didn't know where else to go. You're the only family I have."
His mother winced but reached out towards him again and this time he didn't pull away when she ran her hand down his back. "You can always talk to me."
There was a memory in the back of Ryan's head, fighting to get out. Something that had happened a few years ago, sitting in the Smith's kitchen with Spencer and his parents and the twins. He didn't remember what they'd been doing, but he did remember Ginger's hand on his hair, suddenly, out of nowhere, just a silent, reassuring, "hey kid, everything's okay." He squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated on the present; on his mother's hand pressing warmly against his back. It felt a little late.
"There's a guy, a friend. Maybe. I think I like him. I mean, I think I..." He stopped short and looked up nervously. His mother didn't look upset, or even terribly surprised. "I don't know about that. It doesn't feel like it did with Keltie." Something flickered in her eyes. "What?"
She shrugged and looked down at his hands which were twisting awkwardly in his lap. "I was just thinking that was probably a good thing. Considering." She reached out and took hold of his hands, forcing him to turn towards her. "Is it...? Who is it?"
"Brendon." He was proud of the way his voice didn't shake when he said it.
"I never met him," his mother said, causing Ryan to roll his eyes.
"You don't have to tell me that. I was there. He was there. Where were you?" Ryan was vaguely aware that his voice was getting louder. His mother closed her eyes, but tightened her grip on his hands.
"Ryan, stop."
He stopped, sighed and sagged against her, closing his eyes when her arms went around him. "The only person I want to talk to about this, won't talk to me."
She stroked her hair. He felt her lips move against his forehead. "Have you tried? Because if I know Spencer..."
"Which you don't," he muttered. She merely tightened her arms.
"If I know Spencer, he'll want to fix everything for you. I know he's Brendon's friend too, but you know he loves you."
"I don't know that I do know that anymore," Ryan whispered, hoping it would be muffled enough not to be caught.
"Oh baby," she murmured back. For once he let it go. "You're so silly sometimes."
He started to laugh, thinking that if he didn't he'd have to cry. "Can I stay for a while?"
She kissed his head. "You never have to ask."
---
Ryan called Jon on his way back to the airport two days later.
"How was it?" Jon asked, as soon as he heard Ryan's voice.
"It was fine," he answered, staring out of the bus window, wishing he could somehow magically be home, that instant, and wrapped safely in one of Jon's hugs. "She wasn't surprised about Brendon. She said..." He laughed absently. "She said she'd expected something like that for years."
"Mom's are good like that."
And Ryan knew, he knew, Jon was only trying to help but really, no. "Not all of us had the happy Walton's-style existence growing up that you had. My mom doesn't know shit about me."
Jon, being Jon, took it all in his stride. "Well she obviously knows more than you give her credit for, Ryan. It's time you let go."
Ryan sighed and let his head fall against the cool glass. "I have."
"Besides," Jon continued, "Your childhood wasn't all bad. You started a band, you had a surrogate family, you had Sp..."
Ryan nodded even though he knew Jon couldn't see him. "I had Spencer."
"You still have him, you know. You should talk to him."
Ryan didn't answer. He changed the subject and was grateful that Jon allowed him to. They talked about nothing for a while, until the bus arrived at the airport and they ended the call with Jon promising to pick Ryan up later.
Once he was checked in and through security, he settled down at the gate with a Chai Tea Latte and the last few chapters of his book. On impulse he sent a text to Spencer that said
been 2 c mom. she says hi. wish u were here.
He spent the next hour before boarding pretending he didn't care that Spencer hadn't texted back.
When he arrived at LAX, three hours later, Spencer was waiting for him.
---
They walked to the car in silence and Ryan spent much of the time glancing sideways at Spencer, wondering what he was thinking. Getting out of the airport was always hell, so Ryan stayed quiet as Spencer drove, trying to come up with a way to ask what was going on without it sounding like "I miss you."
"You're angry," he said eventually, as they pulled out onto the freeway. Spencer nodded. "Is it about Brendon?"
Spencer's jaw clenched and Ryan looked away. He was starting to feel uncomfortable.
"That's on the list."
A list didn't sound good.
They continued on without saying anything to each other, until they reached the exit for Ryan's house and Spencer drove straight on by without so much as a glance in Ryan's direction.
"Where are we going?" Ryan asked, quietly. He wasn't entirely surprised when Spencer didn't answer.
Ryan fumbled through his bag for his phone, noticing a text message from Jon that said, S insisted. Good luck. He curled up in his seat and rested his forehead against the window. Outside there was only the harsh orange glow of the street lights and beyond that, darkness. Ryan looked back at Spencer and lifted his phone to take a picture. He posted it to Twitter with a single word, Home, and promptly fell asleep.
---
He woke up an hour later to find the car parked on a bluff, overlooking the sea, and Spencer watching him sleep.
"Creeper," Ryan said through a yawn, as he stretched.
Spencer looked angry, yet amused. "I was just wondering what I did to deserve a best friend who is as dumb as you."
"Just lucky I guess." Ryan's back cracked and he winced, sitting up.
"You're an asshole," Spencer said, matter-of-fact.
Ryan nodded. "So I'm told."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "Do you remember the first day we met?" Ryan blinked, confused by the sudden change of subject, but nodded. "I looked at you and I thought, I want to be friends with him." He hit Ryan's arm, when Ryan opened his mouth to speak. "Shut up. I have not ever, for one minute, regretted that. Even with all the stupid shit you've done over the years. Don't you dare doubt me."
"You stopped calling," Ryan struggled to get out, his voice thick and painful.
Spencer hit him again. "So did you. Phones work two ways, Ryan. Why do I always have to be the one chasing after you? If you want me, all you have to do is ask."
"I was scared," Ryan said, honestly.
"Bullshit," Spencer spat back and grabbed Ryan's arms, dragging him round to face him. "Scared of what? Me? Am I really that terrifying?"
Ryan met Spencer's eyes and nodded. "Yes. Yes, because you don't need me now." The look on Spencer's face shifted from angry to sad, and Ryan began to struggle, trying to get free. "Fuck you. I don't need your fucking pity okay? Get off me."
Instead of letting go, Spencer tightened his grip on Ryan's arms and shook him a little. "It's not pity, dickface. Stop struggling and fucking listen to me." Ryan stopped moving, holding himself stiff and still, away from Spencer. "I will always need you. Always. I mean, Jesus, Ryan, I... You know."
Ryan went limp under Spencer's hands and allowed himself to be pulled forward against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Spencer and breathed in deeply. "I miss you."
Spencer kissed the top of his head and Ryan suddenly felt more warm and safe than he had in months; since before he woke up alone in London and realized nothing in his life made sense anymore.
---
Ryan wasn't sure how much time had passed when Spencer murmured that maybe they should get some air. He didn't care if it had been a couple of minutes or a couple of hours. It hadn't been long enough. They got out of the car and walked close to the cliff edge. Ryan sat down and concentrated his gaze on the moonlight hitting the water; he began tearing up blades of grass with hands.
"You always do that," Spencer said, sitting down in front of him. Their knees were touching. "When you're nervous, or bored. Right now I'm thinking nervous." Ryan wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, and said so. "Just pointing out how well I know you," Spencer replied, stilling Ryan's hands by taking them in his own.
"Better than my mom," Ryan agreed, and squeezed Spencer's hands.
"I would have come with you."
It was possible, Ryan thought, that he was an even bigger idiot than everyone declared him to be. "I'd have had to tell you why I was going," he told Spencer. "I really didn't want to have that conversation."
Spencer shrugged and said, amused, "And now we're having it anyway. Sucks to be you."
Ryan laughed. "Sometimes."
"Ryan," Spencer said firmly, jostling him a little. "What's going on? Is this about Brendon?"
There was no easy way to say it. Ryan wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to be saying. Brendon must have told Spencer what had happened between them in London. Everything else was too indistinct.
"I'll make it easy for you, shall I?" Spencer asked, leaning in to rest his forehead against Ryan's. "He told me about London. He said you slept together."
"Yeah," Ryan breathed, staring at Spencer's hands, wrapped around his.
"What were you thinking?"
Ryan laughed again, though it was harder and angrier than before. "What the fuck do you think I was thinking? I was thinking, 'I'd really like to have sex with that guy' and then that guy turned out to be Brendon."
"So why not stop?" Spencer didn't sound angry and Ryan was grateful that, if he felt it, at least he was hiding it.
"I didn't want to stop. He was all I wanted right then. And it must have been the same for him, because he didn't stop either. I didn't force this on him..." Ryan's voice was getting louder and he sat back, away from Spencer, tugging his hands free. Spencer wasn't letting him get away easily.
"I know you didn't. He never said otherwise. He said he wanted you too." Spencer sighed. "I still don't understand."
"Well," Ryan said, finally, "neither do I."
---
They stopped at a diner on the way back to Ryan's house. It was the kind of tiny road-side place that could be found anywhere. Ryan thought, if he tried hard enough, he could believe they were still in Vegas and that none of the intervening years had taken place. Spencer nudged Ryan's leg with his own under the table and smiled. It was possible Spencer was thinking the same thing. The waitress took their order and left them alone.
"So what are you going to do?" Spencer asked, sipping his water.
"About what?" Ryan replied, looking around the brightly lit room.
"About Brendon," Spencer said. Ryan heard him roll his eyes.
Ryan shrugged and drank some of his water, waiting until Spencer nudged him again, harder this time. "I'm not sure there's anything to do. He doesn't want to be with me. I'm just going to have to get over it." He paused, his face twisting up in a wry smile. "Whatever it is."
"How do you know he doesn't want you?" Spencer asked, with a frown. "You never discussed it with him. Maybe if you'd hung around to talk afterwards..."
"What?" Ryan interrupted, surprised into a disbelieving laugh. "What do you mean, 'if I'd hung around'? It was my hotel room. He left me."
Spencer sat silently, watching him, mouth hanging open a little. Ryan nodded slowly, waiting for Spencer to realize that no, Brendon hadn't been totally honest with him either. Not that Ryan could blame him.
"It's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault. It just happened." Ryan looked up at the waitress when she arrived with their food, and thanked her. Spencer was still watching him. Ryan concentrated on his meal. "I tried, but he's the only one I want." He shrugged again. "Just Brendon."
Spencer nodded and started to eat. Ryan followed his lead. They didn't say anything else for a while and when Spencer finally spoke, it was to ask about the new My Chemical Romance album. Ryan felt sixteen again. It was a nice feeling.
---
Brendon came back from walking the dogs to find Haley alone in the living room, reading. He paused in the doorway, wondering if he could make an escape before she noticed him.
"Brendon?"
No such luck.
"Hey," he smiled, walking over to her. "All alone?"
"Spencer went to pick up Ryan." Her voice was deceptively innocent.
Brendon sat down heavily, unsure what to comment on first. "You know then?"
"That you had hot monkey sex with Ryan?" Her eyes were gleaming. Brendon wanted to die. "Spencer may have mentioned it."
"Did he use the phrase 'hot money sex'?" he asked, wrapping his arms protectively around a cushion. "Because if he did, I may to kill him."
"He did not," Haley laughed, finally closing her book and tossing it onto the end table. "He just said..." She trailed off and shrugged. "You want to talk about it?"
"I can't begin to tell you how much I do not," Brendon assured her. Then he frowned. "Pick Ryan up from where?"
"The airport," Haley told him, stretching her legs out over his lap. "He said he didn't know when he'd be back, which means drama I guess. I didn't ask." She fidgeted a little, trying to get comfortable. "Are you the cause of the drama?"
"Ryan is the cause of whatever drama exists between Ryan and Spencer." Brendon was almost certain. "Spencer doesn't talk to me about Ryan. He never has."
Haley nodded. Brendon wondered whether Spencer talked to her about it. Probably not.
"Can I ask you something?" she said, smiling wider when he looked nervously at her. "Nothing about the hot monkey sex, I promise."
Brendon shrugged. "Okay."
"You're still friends, right? You and Ryan?"
"Could you start with an easier one?" Brendon joked, only not really. It couldn't be a joke if he'd been asking himself the same question for months.
"Okay," she said, curling up a little more. "Do you love him?"
"That's easier?" Brendon asked, laughing.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Do you love everyone you've ever slept with?" Brendon asked, realising too late that that was the stupidest question ever.
"Yes," she said softly. "But that's not my point."
"Then I can't wait for you to get to it."
Haley sighed and shifted until she could wrap an arm around him. "It's not about being in love right now. It's about whether he's important enough for you to find out."
Brendon closed his eyes and rested his head against Haley's. "That was a good point."
---
It was late when Spencer arrived home, or early Brendon supposed, depending on which side you were seeing it from. The house was dark and Brendon had been lying alone on the couch, waiting, since Haley had gone to bed two hours earlier. He heard Spencer's keys hit the table in the hall and wondered if he could get away with never having this conversation.
"Spencer?"
Spencer's footsteps changed direction and carried him back towards the living room. "Brendon? What are you still doing up? In the dark."
"I couldn't sleep," Brendon told him, but didn't move. His eyes were well adjusted to the dim moonlight shining through the window. "I like the dark. How's Ryan?"
Spencer sighed and shuffled closer. Maybe he never wanted to have this conversation either. "He went to see his mom. He's just as confused as you are."
Brendon let Spencer squeeze onto the sofa beside him and felt something in his chest relax. "Did you make up?"
"Yeah." Spencer's voice was firm but gentle. "Your turn."
"It's not that easy," Brendon said with a snort. "It's not the same for us as it is for you. I can't tell everything he's thinking just by looking at his face, and you know we never talk about the important stuff without fighting."
"Is that why you left him?"
Brendon thought that should have been obvious, but he hummed in agreement and tightened his arms around Spencer. "I was scared. I'm still scared."
"Of Ryan?" Brendon could hear the disbelief in Spencer's voice.
"Of course, of Ryan. If we stay like this, if we never talk, it's easy enough to pretend we're still friends. If I try and lose my friend..." Brendon trailed off into silence, thinking. Spencer stayed quiet and waited. "What happens if things get worse? What happens if I lose him altogether?"
Spencer tilted his head back and met Brendon's eyes. Even in the dark, Brendon could see he understood. "Then you lose. You just have to decide whether it's worth the risk."
---
Three days after Jon arrived back in LA from Chicago, this time with Cassie in tow, they agreed to play at a local bar, near to Ryan's house, just the two of them and their guitars. It had become something of a habit for them, when they were just starting off. They both liked being able to go out into the bar afterwards and have a drink, talk to the fans that had stayed with them, maybe sign a couple of things. They didn't even have a set list, they just played what they felt like playing. It felt very civilised. This time they'd only posted the information on their website the night before. They weren't expecting a huge crowd. Mostly it would be regulars. Ryan knew a few of them by name now.
The bar-room was almost empty when Ryan finally made it out front after the show. Jon had swept Cassie away to the house and Ryan had promised he wouldn't be back early. His plan was to sit with one beer and make it last through a long conversation with the bartender. Then... well. He'd see what happened.
His plan however, was foiled by the man sitting, hunched over, at the bar. He was playing with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around and only occasionally taking a sip. Ryan felt his heart do a stupid flip and speed up. He took a deep breath and walked over, slowly.
"How long have you been here?" he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to Brendon. He waved at the bartender and pointed at Brendon's glass.
"I came for your set," Brendon answered, without looking at him. "You were very good."
"Thank you," Ryan said, knowing that Brendon was at least being sincere. He was one of the few people who knew when Brendon was lying. Something about that thought made him feel better. He slid some money across the bar in exchange for the drink.
"I've been before," Brendon continued. "I've been a few times. I usually stay at the back, out of the way."
"You never said." Ryan tilted his head, trying to gauge what Brendon was thinking. It was difficult when he wouldn't even look Ryan's way.
Brendon shrugged. "I wasn't sure you'd want me to."
"Why wouldn't I?" Ryan downed his drink and replaced the glass ever so carefully on his napkin. "We're still friends Brendon. We just... forgot."
"Do you think we can remember again?"
Ryan nudged Brendon gently. "We're both pretty smart, for being so stupid. We can figure it out."
Brendon tipped his glass towards Ryan and finally, finally, finally, turned his head to look at him. "Are you happy?"
Ryan was surprised. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"This makes you happy?" Brendon swept his arm around, gesturing at the bar.
Ryan didn't even need to look. "It does," he said, quiet and determined. "Brendon, we don't want the same things from this anymore. You think I want to be singing songs about my dad when I'm thirty? That was what I needed to do then and this is what I need to do now."
"I don't understand," Brendon told him. He was frowning, but he was leaning on the bar, head resting on one propped up arm, listening.
"I had to be the adult when you were stumbling around drunk every night." He held up his hand when Brendon went to argue. "And that was my choice. I'm not angry about it. I just..." He shrugged. "This is my time to find out who I am."
"Why couldn't you do that with us?"
And that was the million dollar question wasn't it? Ryan didn't look away from Brendon. "I don't know."
Brendon nodded and looked back down at his drink.
"But when I figure it out, I'm still going to need you," Ryan said, honestly.
There was a smile, at last, and Brendon finished his drink. "That's all I need."
Ryan smiled back, relaxed and hopeful.
"And you're sure it wasn't...?"
"What?"
"Me?"
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break, Brendon. The world does not revolve around you. I didn't leave the band because I was in love with you. I'm still not totally sure I am in love with you."
One of Brendon's eyebrows inched upwards. "Well that's good, because I'm not sure I'm in love with you either."
"That seems perfectly sensible," Ryan agreed, nodding.
Brendon managed to keep a straight face for another thirty seconds and then started to laugh. Ryan joined him a second later and soon they were almost lying across the bar, laughing, their heads bent close together until they caught their breath and each other's eyes.
"But I want to find out," Brendon told him softly, as soon as he had composed himself.
Ryan's smile was small but genuine and his eyes were shining. "I do too."
"So," Brendon said, sitting back up again, "do you maybe want to go out for dinner sometime?"
Ryan sat up, slowly and frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Uh," it was Brendon's turn to frown, "asking you out?"
Ryan looked truly bewildered. "Like I'm some girl you're picking up?"
"What did I do?"
"Brendon," Ryan snorted, "I've known you since we were sixteen. You've thrown up on me. You've passed out on me at three am, wearing nothing but make-up and socks. I've seen you wear the same underwear for three days straight, because you couldn't be bothered to do your laundry. Ask me like I'm Ryan."
"You're a freak."
Ryan held up his hands. "Hey, if you don't want to..."
"Hey, assface," Brendon interrupted, rolling his eyes. "I'm offering pizza and beer. And maybe a b-j in the car after, if you're good."
Ryan slid off the barstool and leaned in to kiss Brendon's cheek. "Was that so hard?"
Brendon stood up and took his hand, leading him towards the exit. "No. Not hard at all."
The End