A Million Ways To Fall - Pt. VI
Brendon had lived through hell once before. Losing his family, trudging through days that never seemed to end between school and work and practice and homework. At the end of that particular tunnel had been a light, and that light’s name was Pete Wentz. Pete was the light in a broader sense, though, because he was what brought all of them through that time. Maybe for Spencer and Brent it hadn’t been as big a deal, but for Brendon and Ryan who were putting it all out on the line for this one shot? It was everything.
Looking back, Brendon didn’t think of it as hell so much as he thought of it as That Time When Shit Was Rough. Or at least, when everything settled, when he had a career starting in music and when his family forgave him and when things were looking bright and damn near perfect, he was able to look back and think it hadn’t been so bad at all, really.
Then he fucked Dan-or-Dave, which prompted a downward spiral of an identity crisis, and then he got pregnant and all of a sudden thoughts of That Time When Shit Was Rough were more intimidating and scary than ever.
Brendon didn’t want to go back to that, to the fear and the uncertainty and the loneliness. He tried to convince himself it would be different now because he had Ryan and Spencer and Jon, especially Jon, in a way he hadn’t quite had them before. He had their girlfriends who were his friends, too. He had Pete and Patrick, Singer and Marshall and Johnson, Ian and Cash, Shane . . . but that didn’t change the fact that this was still a journey that, inevitably, he had to embark on alone.
Jon went home to Chicago for a while before the fall tour was slated to start. In the two weeks he was gone, Pete got in touch with most of their trusted friends on the label to let them know what was going on, what to expect, and to ask for a little help with damage control. So far so good, considering the fact that other than the brief flare-up of concern from fans following Brendon’s collapse, no one had been questioning much about him lately. Well, other than curiosity about his relationship with Jon and Ryan, but that was still kind of old news. Just in case, everyone was on board to help with some underground PR.
Bill got in touch first, probably because of anyone he knew what it was like to have to keep a grave secret. Brendon didn’t want to talk to him, so he let the call go to voicemail. He didn’t check it, but he added the name to his list. After that, Brendon got calls from Patrick, Joe and Travis, and then Bob McLynn and a few others. Brendon refused to answer his phone every time and he refused to check his messages, but the list kept growing.
There were a few reasons to be avoiding all of them. Part of it, Brendon knew, was because he didn’t want the situation to be any more real than it already was. Having people call to offer their support and whatever, that made it more real. Most of it, though, was that Brendon was spending a lot of his time trying to figure out how the fuck he was supposed to let Zack and the guys in The Cab know what was going on.
“This must be what rocket science feels like,” Brendon groused one day.
Haley hummed on the other line and said, “it won’t be that bad.”
“I have to tell some of my closest friends that I’m pregnant.”
Shane looked up from where he was flipping through a new script and gestured to the camera at his side. Brendon shrugged and Shane picked it up, adjusted his hold and started recording.
“I can see your problem,” Haley said, but there was a smile in her voice so she was at least partly teasing.
“I’m glad this is amusing to someone,” Brendon said, and Haley sighed.
“Your hormones are going to be a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?” she said, going on before Brendon could retort. “Look, I know it’s going to be hard but you can do it. You’re one of the strongest guys I know. Other than my amazing boyfriend.”
“And his equally amazing best friend,” Brendon added with a sigh, because fucking Ryan Ross was, without a doubt, the strongest person Brendon knew.
“And him,” Haley said. “You’ll be okay. Is anyone going with you?”
Brendon slanted a glance up at Shane, looking past the lens to the man behind it, and said, “I don’t know yet.”
“Spencer will go if you need him,” she said. “Or if you want him. Or if you vaguely hint that it might be nice to have some support.”
Brendon laughed. He had no doubt about that, but he felt a strange and pressing need to do this on his own. He glanced up at Shane and amended that thought to doing it mostly on his own.
“Anyway,” Haley went on, “even if they don’t believe you, give it a few more months and you’ll have proof. Big belly, swollen ankles . . .”
“As if the morning sickness and sensitivity to smells isn’t enough,” Brendon said, and Haley laughed.
“I hate to say it,” she said, the smile evident in her voice, “but it is kind of vindicating. I mean, that you’re pregnant. Now you know how it feels.”
Brendon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, now feminists everywhere can rejoice.”
Haley giggled. “I know I am.”
“I hate you,” Brendon muttered.
Haley made a soothing sound. “It’s okay, I still love you.” There was a pause and when she spoke again, her words made Brendon’s stomach knot up. “So, I’m guessing the pregnancy is the only thing you’re planning on coming out about?”
Brendon looked down at his lap and scratched idly between Dylan’s ears. She uncurled a little and lifted her head to rest on his thigh.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to be casual.
Haley scoffed. “I’m talking about the fact that Spencer and Ryan both told me that you’re still feeding everybody this line about not being gay.”
“I’m not!” Brendon shot back even though even he knew how weak that was.
“Okay!” Haley said. “But, like, if you were-”
“Haley.”
“I’m just saying. If you were, they wouldn’t freak out on you about it. I mean, you’re already pregnant. The other part is kind of a given.”
She sounded matter-of-fact and like she believed what she was saying. Haley wasn’t a liar and Spencer and Ryan always told her the absolute truth. If they mentioned that they wouldn’t freak about Brendon’s possible non-heterosexuality, they weren’t just saying it to sound accepting. They meant it. Brendon chewed on his bottom lip and glanced up at Shane.
It wasn’t something Brendon spent a lot of time thinking about. He didn’t want to. But maybe he owed it to his band, at least, to try and figure some things out. Not that it mattered. As soon as he had the kid, unless he gave it up, his life would be over. It would be diapers and fucking kindergarten and shit. He wouldn’t be able to date and especially not other guys.
Besides, who would want to sleep with such a freak of nature anyway?
“Brendon?” Haley asked.
“Yeah,” he said, slumping back against the couch. “Yeah, okay.”
“If you need someone to talk to about it,” she said, “you know I’m here, right?”
Brendon smiled a little to himself. “I do,” he said.
They wrapped up the call pretty quickly after that. Shane stopped filming and set aside the camera again. He dropped onto the couch next to Brendon, lining them up from shoulder to knee. Brendon melted into the warmth of his body and tilted his head to rest on Shane’s chest. Dylan didn’t wake up from her nap at the movement, just settled more heavily against Brendon’s other side.
“If you want, I can come with you to tell Ian and you know you won’t have to tell Zack by yourself.”
Brendon shrugged and snuggled closer. “We’ll see,” he muttered. “I just don’t want to think about it right now.”
Shane nodded and curled an arm around Brendon’s body. “I think that reality show you like is on.”
Shane grabbed the remote control and flipped on the tv. They watched the show together in silence until the people on the screen became white-noise and Brendon drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
_._
Brendon added Cash, Singer and Ian’s names to the list on a Wednesday in early September before locking himself in his room, hiding under his comforter and refusing to come out for hours. Eventually, Shane had to play dirty and send Dylan to scratch and whine at the door to get Brendon to leave his room. He also asked Ryan over to make dinner.
“You like his soup,” Shane said casually when Brendon raised an eyebrow at the spectacle of Ryan humming happily in the kitchen.
Brendon sighed and watched Dylan trot over to Ryan’s feet and plop down, tail wagging and nose sniffing interestedly at the air.
“You don’t get any,” Ryan said without looking down.
Dylan barked once, ears pricked, and didn’t move. Brendon figured they would have to watch the two of them carefully; Ryan was notorious for being unable to tell a cute animal “no”.
Shane patted Brendon on the back and walked into the living room, whistling for Dylan on the way. She hesitated, head swinging from Ryan to Shane and back, before she got up and ran out, nails clicking on the floor.
“So,” Ryan said quietly. He turned away from the stove, took one look at Brendon and walked forward.
“Hi,” Brendon said, letting himself be pulled into a tight hug.
“I heard you had a rough day.”
Brendon huffed out a laugh and tucked his face into the crook of Ryan’s neck.
“I’ll live,” he said, and Ryan hummed softly, tightening his hold.
On a Saturday morning, Brendon woke to a text message from Jon, rolled out of bed and added Cassie’s name to the list. Jon actually called him later and said, “Cass wants you to know she’s got so much experience with babies it’s ridiculous.”
Brendon pulled his feet up onto the couch and scratched Dylan behind the ears. “Tell her I might have to take advantage of that.”
Jon laughed and asked how Brendon was holding up and he said fine. It wasn’t quite a lie, but he didn’t think he was being perfectly honest, either. If Jon picked up on it, he didn’t say anything. He just said he’d see Brendon when he got back into Vegas in a few days and they hung up.
On Monday, Brendon walked in on Shane adding Regan’s name to the list. He looked unhappy when he lifted his head and Brendon crossed his arms over his chest, unsure how he felt about Shane’s ex knowing he was pregnant. They hadn’t actually talked about telling her.
“It kind of slipped,” Shane said.
Brendon raised his eyebrows and tried not to look pissed. Based on the way Shane wrinkled his nose in a tiny wince, Brendon figured he hadn’t quite managed it.
“What’d you say to her?” Brendon asked, voice tight.
“She knew you were sick and I mentioned that you went to the hospital and she freaked out so I had to tell her it wasn’t anything serious and then it . . . slipped.”
Shane’s eyes were a little wide, appealing, no doubt, to the softer side of Brendon’s newfound hormonal nature.
“It just slipped,” Brendon repeated.
Shane nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to say anything but then I did and so I had to explain it.” He paused before adding, “the first thing she asked was if I was your baby-daddy.”
Brendon frowned. “Funny,” he said, and Shane held his hands up in front of his body.
“I’m totally serious. I think she was, too. I don’t know if she believed me when I told her it was somebody else.”
There was a tense moment after that, not just because Shane was trying to gauge how pissed Brendon was, but because Brendon was thinking about the somebody else in question. The thought made his stomach tense up. He didn’t like to consider it much, didn’t like the idea of having to cite some nameless dude as the father of his baby. It was a little embarrassing.
Shane stared at Brendon for a moment longer and then said, “I should have talked to you about it. I’m sorry.”
Brendon glanced at the list and shrugged. “Whatever, we would have told her eventually.”
He walked out of the kitchen, curled up on the couch and was relieved when Shane didn’t follow him. He wasn’t in the mood for company, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave, either. He was just in the mood to mope, something he was becoming increasingly good at.
The middle of September was all about the whirlwind of preparations for the fall tour, including some interviews and shows specifically for fan club members where they fielded questions about the band’s dynamic and rushed to reassure everyone that no, Brendon did not hate Jon and Ryan and no, Jon and Ryan were not trying to control Brendon and yes, the band was as close as ever thank you very much.
Amid all of that plus the non-stop fine-tuning, Brendon added Zack’s name to the list. He paused, pen still poised over the paper, and scribbled a smiley face after it.
That one, at least, had gone better than expected.
_._
When they had still been on the Honda Civic Tour, Shane decided he needed a break from touring life to shoot a short film he’d been sitting on for a while. The plan had been for him to stick with the band through the summer and then go off and do his own thing in the fall. The night before Brendon left, Shane had to be talked out of going back on his plans to leave with them.
“First of all,” Brendon said, trying to stuff one last pair of shoes in his bag, “it’s not a long tour. You’ll barely have time to miss me. Second of all, when was the last time you worked on your own stuff instead of our stupid band shit?”
He successfully wedged the last sneaker in and managed to close everything up. With a triumphant sigh, he shoved the bag off of his bed and sat down. Shane lingered in the doorway looking entirely unconvinced.
“I wouldn’t do it if I thought it was stupid band shit,” he shot back. “You guys are like . . . I dunno.”
Brendon raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Aw, Shane! Are we your muses?”
Shane rolled his eyes at Brendon’s teasing tone. “Whatever. You’re good subjects, that’s all.”
Brendon grinned and reached out, making grabby hands until Shane walked forward. As soon as he was close enough, Brendon wound his arms around Shane’s waist and pulled him close.
“It’ll be fine,” Brendon insisted, pressing his forehead to Shane’s belly. “I’ll be fine, too, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Shane made a small, noncommittal noise and draped his arms across Brendon’s shoulders. They stayed like that, quiet in the soft light of Brendon’s bedroom until Brendon could feel himself nodding off. Shane shifted and laughed when Brendon nuzzled his stomach sleepily.
“You’re so clingy,” he muttered, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He maneuvered Brendon onto the bed and they fell asleep together, curled up under Brendon’s comforter.
The next morning, Brendon did his usual last-minute scramble, making sure he had everything he needed, making a list of the things he could always buy on the road if necessary, and saying extended goodbyes to Dylan. She wasn’t too receptive to Brendon’s affection; she’d probably figured out what was going on and wasn’t too happy about being left. She was smart like that.
Still, she wagged her tail when Brendon got his bags to the door and licked his cheek when he leaned in to kiss the top of her head. He straightened and raised his eyebrows at Shane, who was looming a little.
“Dude,” Brendon said, “you’re looming.”
Shane had the decency to look chagrined about it. He shook his hair out of his eyes and said, “sorry.”
It was a little weird to think about being without Shane for a whole tour; Brendon hadn’t left him like this since they’d moved in together. Shane had gone to the cabin with Brendon, had flown to different shows with Brendon, had gone through the whole recording process and then on a gigantic tour with Brendon. It felt weird to think about him not constantly being around or constantly on his way over.
Maybe it was the flux of hormones that was driving Brendon crazy and making it hard for him to walk out the door. Then again, Brendon couldn’t blame everything on the pregnancy, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew, deep down, that his reluctance to leave Shane had nothing to do with anything but the way Brendon felt about him. What that was he still couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t really matter. Not compared to everything else.
Brendon opened his mouth to say goodbye and made a startled sound instead when Shane reached out to clasp the back of his neck and drag him forward.
“See you,” Shane breathed, the words brushing Brendon’s lips.
They were close enough that Brendon had to go a little cross-eyed to keep eye contact; he couldn’t really read Shane’s expression, but it stole his breath and made his heartbeat quicken anyway.
“Bye,” Brendon whispered back.
He had a split second to think about how inane that sounded, and then Shane was kissing him. It was nothing like the first time they’d kissed, the haze of alcohol and the residual fear of the unknown absent this time around. Shane licked the corner of Brendon’s mouth and slid his tongue forward when Brendon parted his lips on a gasp. They kissed hard and fast and deep enough to leave Brendon breathless and reeling.
When Shane pulled back, Brendon’s pulse was pounding in his ears and his fingertips and his toes and he thought so that’s what being kissed within an inch of your life feels like.
Shane grinned, sharp and crooked at Brendon and ushered him out of the door. Brendon stood, bags at his feet and heart in his throat, for a long time before he managed to get going.
_._
The first week on tour was always the most difficult. There was the rush of excitement that went along with being back on the road, but there was also the fact that as soon as it came time to step onstage, there was no real telling what would happen. It was seven days of getting used to constantly being on the move all over again and it was seven days of performing at night waiting for the inevitable glitches and screw-ups to be worked out.
Brendon spent most of the first week going strong, but he crashed hard on a Saturday night with his head in Spencer’s lap and his legs hooked over Jon’s thighs. He was asleep and dreaming of something weird, pixies and drum cadences maybe, when someone started to shake him awake.
He flailed his hand out at them and made a soft noise of protest. Spencer was warm and comfortable, as was Jon, and Brendon had no intention of moving.
“Hey,” Ryan’s voice said, his face so close Brendon could feel the wash of breath over his face. “Hey, Brendon, wake up.”
Brendon shook his head and said, “no, Ross, m’sleeping.”
There was an amused huff of breath and then the heavy weight of Ryan’s head on his chest.
“Brendon,” Ryan wheedled. “Breeendon.”
Brendon shook his head again and squealed when Jon seized one ankle and dragged a fingertip along the arch of his foot. He knew how ticklish Brendon was, bastard. Spencer laughed when Brendon’s eyes shot open and he didn’t stop even in the face of the glare being directed up at him.
“I hate you,” he complained without much heat.
Ryan nuzzled his chest and then lifted his phone and said, “okay, he’s awake.” He handed it to Brendon and added, “Keltie wants to say hi.”
Brendon took the phone with fingers that felt heavy and clumsy with sleep and said, “isn’t it really late wherever you are?”
Keltie laughed. “Since when do I have regular sleeping hours?” she asked, and this was very true. She stayed up as late as Ryan did and slept as little as Brendon. She was bionic.
“True,” Brendon said, and he could practically feel the warmth of Keltie’s smile over the line.
“So, I just wanted to call and say Happy Trimester Day! I just made that up, I don’t think it’s an actual day but technically it is, right? Anyway, congratulations!”
Brendon’s eyebrows flew up and he looked quizzically at Ryan who just grinned softly back. “Um,” he said, “okay.”
Keltie sighed, a fast gust of breath, and said, “you’ve officially made it into your second trimester, Brendon! That means you’re one-third of the way through and you’re still healthy and the baby’s still healthy! It’s totally a big deal.”
“Oh,” Brendon said quietly.
He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t realized what today was, hadn’t even paid much attention when Dr. Pierson had talked about trimesters and milestones. Brendon felt suddenly, strangely invincible which was a far cry from the vulnerability and fear he’d been struggling with for weeks.
“Congratulations, Bren,” she said again, voice gentle and sincere.
Brendon thanked her and handed the phone back to Ryan who murmured a quick goodbye. He hung up and looked expectantly at Brendon. Brendon stared blankly back before pushing himself into a sitting position. His head swam a little bit.
“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked, and Brendon shrugged and looked down at his lap.
“Good,” he answered after a moment, lifting his head to share smiles with Ryan and Jon and Spence. “Really good.”
_._
Touring was what it always was: being stuck in confined spaces with the same people for days on end and long, draining hours and performances that were good and some that were bad and some that were fucking amazing. Brendon was pretty used to it. What he was not used to was doing it pregnant. Everything seemed to require more stamina now and instead of falling into the routine of sleeping a few hours a day and going strong the rest of the time, Brendon was constantly taking naps and falling asleep on his bandmates.
They didn’t mind. They encouraged it, even. Zack, in particular, kept a careful eye on Brendon and made sure he was eating right and getting enough rest. It was like having a team full of midwives instead of just the one; it kind of made sense. Zack and gotten in contact with Theresa ten minutes after Brendon had given him the news and he now had his own sets of lists and numbers to call. He was, as Spencer liked to say, totally and completely prepared. Like a boy scout.
Performances were the most exhausting and after every one, Brendon had to force himself out to sign autographs and say hello even though he just wanted to curl up somewhere and pass out. A few of the more observant and bold fans mentioned his recent lack of energy after one show.
“I’m fine,” Brendon assured them. “Just fighting off a cold.”
They seemed to buy it and Brendon freaked out a little because he didn’t want the stage show to suffer because of his condition. Ryan assured him it wasn’t.
“They’re probably just talking about all the pictures of you looking like your grandma died,” he said while they watched Spencer and Jon attempt an epic Halo tournament (it was fruitless; Jon was too good for Spencer and they all knew it).
“I can’t help it,” Brendon whined, slumping sideways into Ryan’s lap and sighing softly when long fingers started sifting through his hair. “Being pregnant is hard, Ryan,” he whispered.
The words felt harsh in his throat even though he’d meant them lightly. They hung in the air for a shaky moment and then Ryan bent at the waist and kissed Brendon’s temple. He didn’t reply. There wasn’t much he could say to that, but he scratched lightly at Brendon’s scalp and shared his bodyheat and that was enough.
A few times, tour took an emotional toll on Brendon. Like when he and Jon got into a horrible fight that lasted almost three days, during which Jon didn’t talk to Brendon at all and Brendon refused to apologize for whatever stupid thing he’d said and it became evident that maybe neither of them were handling the whole pregnancy thing as well as they liked to pretend. The night after a particularly shitty show during which Brendon crowded Ryan’s space and Jon sang like every word was a well-formed weapon and everything felt off-balance, Ryan went after Jon in the bunks and Spencer cornered Brendon in the back lounge.
“So,” Spencer said, looking at Brendon who was tucked into a corner of the couch, idly watching the menu screen of one of Ryan’s weird-ass French films.
“What?” Brendon snapped.
He could see Spencer’s jaw clench out of the corner of his eye and bit back an apology. He was pissed and he was so fucking tired all the fucking time and Jon was an asshole and Brendon didn’t want to say he was sorry. He didn’t even feel sorry, not for anything. Not really. Or maybe he was so sorry he couldn’t figure out how to say the words and mean them.
He bit down hard on his bottom lip and flinched away when Spencer sat close to him on the couch.
“You want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, and Brendon shook his head. “Too bad,” he continued. “What the fuck is going on?”
Brendon didn’t know. He’d been getting into little fights with Spencer and Ryan and Jon for weeks now, tiny verbal skirmishes that were over before they’d even really gotten started. They’d all grown to accept his moodiness, even if it was inconvenient for all of them. Nothing had been like this, though, with stony silences lasting endless hours.
It had started with the stupidest thing, too, something so stupid Brendon could barely remember it. All he could remember was Jon yelling at him about how fucking stupid he always was, how irresponsible, and Brendon yelling back that at least he wasn’t fucking useless and Jon had spit out a venomous “fuck you” and stormed out and Brendon had locked himself in the bathroom and spent an hour determinedly not crying.
“Look,” Spencer said quietly, “we know it’s hard, okay? It’s hard for us, too. I mean, it’s different, but it’s hard. “
Brendon frowned at the television screen and didn’t look up until Spencer gripped his shoulder and shook him gently.
“You’re not even four months pregnant yet,” he said. “You’ve got to live with us and we’ve got to live with you until you have this baby. You can’t keep pulling this shit and expect it to be smooth.”
“I wasn’t the only one present for the fight,” Brendon pointed out.
“Don’t worry, Ryan’s probably lecturing Jon’s ears off as we speak,” Spencer said with a small smile.
Brendon made a face and turned back to the TV. “I didn’t mean what I said,” he muttered.
“So tell Jon,” Spencer said.
It took Brendon a good three hours to get up the courage. It was well past his bedtime but he sat up in the lounge anyway, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to apologize to Jon without sacrificing every inch of his already non-existent dignity.
When no answer was forthcoming and Brendon had already fielded about six threatening texts telling him to get some sleep or else, he rolled to his feet and stumbled back to the bunks. He hesitated outside of Jon’s bottom bunk for a brief moment before kneeling down and whispering, “knock, knock.”
He was pretty sure Jon was asleep, but the curtain twitched open a moment later and Jon whispered, “what do you want, Brendon?”
So he was still pissed. Brendon sighed and it was ridiculous but he felt like crying again. He hated hormones, fucking hated them.
“I didn’t mean it,” he murmured. “You’re not useless and I’m sorry I’m so stupid, I really am, but when the fuck are you going to forgive me instead of just pretending? You’re not a liar so stop fucking lying to me.”
Jon didn’t say anything and Brendon sucked in a sharp breath, leaning half into Jon’s bunk.
“You’re not useless, Jon, okay? Forgive me?”
“Shit,” Jon said harshly before reaching out and tugging Brendon into the cramped space.
Jon buried his face in Brendon’s neck and his lips were moving but Brendon couldn’t hear the words. He clung to Jon, though, and tried to make out the shape of them.
He thought he caught them, the “you’re not stupid” and the “I’m sorry, too” and, most importantly, “I forgive you, I forgive you, fuck”. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter.
Previous
Next
Looking back, Brendon didn’t think of it as hell so much as he thought of it as That Time When Shit Was Rough. Or at least, when everything settled, when he had a career starting in music and when his family forgave him and when things were looking bright and damn near perfect, he was able to look back and think it hadn’t been so bad at all, really.
Then he fucked Dan-or-Dave, which prompted a downward spiral of an identity crisis, and then he got pregnant and all of a sudden thoughts of That Time When Shit Was Rough were more intimidating and scary than ever.
Brendon didn’t want to go back to that, to the fear and the uncertainty and the loneliness. He tried to convince himself it would be different now because he had Ryan and Spencer and Jon, especially Jon, in a way he hadn’t quite had them before. He had their girlfriends who were his friends, too. He had Pete and Patrick, Singer and Marshall and Johnson, Ian and Cash, Shane . . . but that didn’t change the fact that this was still a journey that, inevitably, he had to embark on alone.
Jon went home to Chicago for a while before the fall tour was slated to start. In the two weeks he was gone, Pete got in touch with most of their trusted friends on the label to let them know what was going on, what to expect, and to ask for a little help with damage control. So far so good, considering the fact that other than the brief flare-up of concern from fans following Brendon’s collapse, no one had been questioning much about him lately. Well, other than curiosity about his relationship with Jon and Ryan, but that was still kind of old news. Just in case, everyone was on board to help with some underground PR.
Bill got in touch first, probably because of anyone he knew what it was like to have to keep a grave secret. Brendon didn’t want to talk to him, so he let the call go to voicemail. He didn’t check it, but he added the name to his list. After that, Brendon got calls from Patrick, Joe and Travis, and then Bob McLynn and a few others. Brendon refused to answer his phone every time and he refused to check his messages, but the list kept growing.
There were a few reasons to be avoiding all of them. Part of it, Brendon knew, was because he didn’t want the situation to be any more real than it already was. Having people call to offer their support and whatever, that made it more real. Most of it, though, was that Brendon was spending a lot of his time trying to figure out how the fuck he was supposed to let Zack and the guys in The Cab know what was going on.
“This must be what rocket science feels like,” Brendon groused one day.
Haley hummed on the other line and said, “it won’t be that bad.”
“I have to tell some of my closest friends that I’m pregnant.”
Shane looked up from where he was flipping through a new script and gestured to the camera at his side. Brendon shrugged and Shane picked it up, adjusted his hold and started recording.
“I can see your problem,” Haley said, but there was a smile in her voice so she was at least partly teasing.
“I’m glad this is amusing to someone,” Brendon said, and Haley sighed.
“Your hormones are going to be a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?” she said, going on before Brendon could retort. “Look, I know it’s going to be hard but you can do it. You’re one of the strongest guys I know. Other than my amazing boyfriend.”
“And his equally amazing best friend,” Brendon added with a sigh, because fucking Ryan Ross was, without a doubt, the strongest person Brendon knew.
“And him,” Haley said. “You’ll be okay. Is anyone going with you?”
Brendon slanted a glance up at Shane, looking past the lens to the man behind it, and said, “I don’t know yet.”
“Spencer will go if you need him,” she said. “Or if you want him. Or if you vaguely hint that it might be nice to have some support.”
Brendon laughed. He had no doubt about that, but he felt a strange and pressing need to do this on his own. He glanced up at Shane and amended that thought to doing it mostly on his own.
“Anyway,” Haley went on, “even if they don’t believe you, give it a few more months and you’ll have proof. Big belly, swollen ankles . . .”
“As if the morning sickness and sensitivity to smells isn’t enough,” Brendon said, and Haley laughed.
“I hate to say it,” she said, the smile evident in her voice, “but it is kind of vindicating. I mean, that you’re pregnant. Now you know how it feels.”
Brendon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, now feminists everywhere can rejoice.”
Haley giggled. “I know I am.”
“I hate you,” Brendon muttered.
Haley made a soothing sound. “It’s okay, I still love you.” There was a pause and when she spoke again, her words made Brendon’s stomach knot up. “So, I’m guessing the pregnancy is the only thing you’re planning on coming out about?”
Brendon looked down at his lap and scratched idly between Dylan’s ears. She uncurled a little and lifted her head to rest on his thigh.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to be casual.
Haley scoffed. “I’m talking about the fact that Spencer and Ryan both told me that you’re still feeding everybody this line about not being gay.”
“I’m not!” Brendon shot back even though even he knew how weak that was.
“Okay!” Haley said. “But, like, if you were-”
“Haley.”
“I’m just saying. If you were, they wouldn’t freak out on you about it. I mean, you’re already pregnant. The other part is kind of a given.”
She sounded matter-of-fact and like she believed what she was saying. Haley wasn’t a liar and Spencer and Ryan always told her the absolute truth. If they mentioned that they wouldn’t freak about Brendon’s possible non-heterosexuality, they weren’t just saying it to sound accepting. They meant it. Brendon chewed on his bottom lip and glanced up at Shane.
It wasn’t something Brendon spent a lot of time thinking about. He didn’t want to. But maybe he owed it to his band, at least, to try and figure some things out. Not that it mattered. As soon as he had the kid, unless he gave it up, his life would be over. It would be diapers and fucking kindergarten and shit. He wouldn’t be able to date and especially not other guys.
Besides, who would want to sleep with such a freak of nature anyway?
“Brendon?” Haley asked.
“Yeah,” he said, slumping back against the couch. “Yeah, okay.”
“If you need someone to talk to about it,” she said, “you know I’m here, right?”
Brendon smiled a little to himself. “I do,” he said.
They wrapped up the call pretty quickly after that. Shane stopped filming and set aside the camera again. He dropped onto the couch next to Brendon, lining them up from shoulder to knee. Brendon melted into the warmth of his body and tilted his head to rest on Shane’s chest. Dylan didn’t wake up from her nap at the movement, just settled more heavily against Brendon’s other side.
“If you want, I can come with you to tell Ian and you know you won’t have to tell Zack by yourself.”
Brendon shrugged and snuggled closer. “We’ll see,” he muttered. “I just don’t want to think about it right now.”
Shane nodded and curled an arm around Brendon’s body. “I think that reality show you like is on.”
Shane grabbed the remote control and flipped on the tv. They watched the show together in silence until the people on the screen became white-noise and Brendon drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
_._
Brendon added Cash, Singer and Ian’s names to the list on a Wednesday in early September before locking himself in his room, hiding under his comforter and refusing to come out for hours. Eventually, Shane had to play dirty and send Dylan to scratch and whine at the door to get Brendon to leave his room. He also asked Ryan over to make dinner.
“You like his soup,” Shane said casually when Brendon raised an eyebrow at the spectacle of Ryan humming happily in the kitchen.
Brendon sighed and watched Dylan trot over to Ryan’s feet and plop down, tail wagging and nose sniffing interestedly at the air.
“You don’t get any,” Ryan said without looking down.
Dylan barked once, ears pricked, and didn’t move. Brendon figured they would have to watch the two of them carefully; Ryan was notorious for being unable to tell a cute animal “no”.
Shane patted Brendon on the back and walked into the living room, whistling for Dylan on the way. She hesitated, head swinging from Ryan to Shane and back, before she got up and ran out, nails clicking on the floor.
“So,” Ryan said quietly. He turned away from the stove, took one look at Brendon and walked forward.
“Hi,” Brendon said, letting himself be pulled into a tight hug.
“I heard you had a rough day.”
Brendon huffed out a laugh and tucked his face into the crook of Ryan’s neck.
“I’ll live,” he said, and Ryan hummed softly, tightening his hold.
On a Saturday morning, Brendon woke to a text message from Jon, rolled out of bed and added Cassie’s name to the list. Jon actually called him later and said, “Cass wants you to know she’s got so much experience with babies it’s ridiculous.”
Brendon pulled his feet up onto the couch and scratched Dylan behind the ears. “Tell her I might have to take advantage of that.”
Jon laughed and asked how Brendon was holding up and he said fine. It wasn’t quite a lie, but he didn’t think he was being perfectly honest, either. If Jon picked up on it, he didn’t say anything. He just said he’d see Brendon when he got back into Vegas in a few days and they hung up.
On Monday, Brendon walked in on Shane adding Regan’s name to the list. He looked unhappy when he lifted his head and Brendon crossed his arms over his chest, unsure how he felt about Shane’s ex knowing he was pregnant. They hadn’t actually talked about telling her.
“It kind of slipped,” Shane said.
Brendon raised his eyebrows and tried not to look pissed. Based on the way Shane wrinkled his nose in a tiny wince, Brendon figured he hadn’t quite managed it.
“What’d you say to her?” Brendon asked, voice tight.
“She knew you were sick and I mentioned that you went to the hospital and she freaked out so I had to tell her it wasn’t anything serious and then it . . . slipped.”
Shane’s eyes were a little wide, appealing, no doubt, to the softer side of Brendon’s newfound hormonal nature.
“It just slipped,” Brendon repeated.
Shane nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to say anything but then I did and so I had to explain it.” He paused before adding, “the first thing she asked was if I was your baby-daddy.”
Brendon frowned. “Funny,” he said, and Shane held his hands up in front of his body.
“I’m totally serious. I think she was, too. I don’t know if she believed me when I told her it was somebody else.”
There was a tense moment after that, not just because Shane was trying to gauge how pissed Brendon was, but because Brendon was thinking about the somebody else in question. The thought made his stomach tense up. He didn’t like to consider it much, didn’t like the idea of having to cite some nameless dude as the father of his baby. It was a little embarrassing.
Shane stared at Brendon for a moment longer and then said, “I should have talked to you about it. I’m sorry.”
Brendon glanced at the list and shrugged. “Whatever, we would have told her eventually.”
He walked out of the kitchen, curled up on the couch and was relieved when Shane didn’t follow him. He wasn’t in the mood for company, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave, either. He was just in the mood to mope, something he was becoming increasingly good at.
The middle of September was all about the whirlwind of preparations for the fall tour, including some interviews and shows specifically for fan club members where they fielded questions about the band’s dynamic and rushed to reassure everyone that no, Brendon did not hate Jon and Ryan and no, Jon and Ryan were not trying to control Brendon and yes, the band was as close as ever thank you very much.
Amid all of that plus the non-stop fine-tuning, Brendon added Zack’s name to the list. He paused, pen still poised over the paper, and scribbled a smiley face after it.
That one, at least, had gone better than expected.
_._
When they had still been on the Honda Civic Tour, Shane decided he needed a break from touring life to shoot a short film he’d been sitting on for a while. The plan had been for him to stick with the band through the summer and then go off and do his own thing in the fall. The night before Brendon left, Shane had to be talked out of going back on his plans to leave with them.
“First of all,” Brendon said, trying to stuff one last pair of shoes in his bag, “it’s not a long tour. You’ll barely have time to miss me. Second of all, when was the last time you worked on your own stuff instead of our stupid band shit?”
He successfully wedged the last sneaker in and managed to close everything up. With a triumphant sigh, he shoved the bag off of his bed and sat down. Shane lingered in the doorway looking entirely unconvinced.
“I wouldn’t do it if I thought it was stupid band shit,” he shot back. “You guys are like . . . I dunno.”
Brendon raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Aw, Shane! Are we your muses?”
Shane rolled his eyes at Brendon’s teasing tone. “Whatever. You’re good subjects, that’s all.”
Brendon grinned and reached out, making grabby hands until Shane walked forward. As soon as he was close enough, Brendon wound his arms around Shane’s waist and pulled him close.
“It’ll be fine,” Brendon insisted, pressing his forehead to Shane’s belly. “I’ll be fine, too, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Shane made a small, noncommittal noise and draped his arms across Brendon’s shoulders. They stayed like that, quiet in the soft light of Brendon’s bedroom until Brendon could feel himself nodding off. Shane shifted and laughed when Brendon nuzzled his stomach sleepily.
“You’re so clingy,” he muttered, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He maneuvered Brendon onto the bed and they fell asleep together, curled up under Brendon’s comforter.
The next morning, Brendon did his usual last-minute scramble, making sure he had everything he needed, making a list of the things he could always buy on the road if necessary, and saying extended goodbyes to Dylan. She wasn’t too receptive to Brendon’s affection; she’d probably figured out what was going on and wasn’t too happy about being left. She was smart like that.
Still, she wagged her tail when Brendon got his bags to the door and licked his cheek when he leaned in to kiss the top of her head. He straightened and raised his eyebrows at Shane, who was looming a little.
“Dude,” Brendon said, “you’re looming.”
Shane had the decency to look chagrined about it. He shook his hair out of his eyes and said, “sorry.”
It was a little weird to think about being without Shane for a whole tour; Brendon hadn’t left him like this since they’d moved in together. Shane had gone to the cabin with Brendon, had flown to different shows with Brendon, had gone through the whole recording process and then on a gigantic tour with Brendon. It felt weird to think about him not constantly being around or constantly on his way over.
Maybe it was the flux of hormones that was driving Brendon crazy and making it hard for him to walk out the door. Then again, Brendon couldn’t blame everything on the pregnancy, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew, deep down, that his reluctance to leave Shane had nothing to do with anything but the way Brendon felt about him. What that was he still couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t really matter. Not compared to everything else.
Brendon opened his mouth to say goodbye and made a startled sound instead when Shane reached out to clasp the back of his neck and drag him forward.
“See you,” Shane breathed, the words brushing Brendon’s lips.
They were close enough that Brendon had to go a little cross-eyed to keep eye contact; he couldn’t really read Shane’s expression, but it stole his breath and made his heartbeat quicken anyway.
“Bye,” Brendon whispered back.
He had a split second to think about how inane that sounded, and then Shane was kissing him. It was nothing like the first time they’d kissed, the haze of alcohol and the residual fear of the unknown absent this time around. Shane licked the corner of Brendon’s mouth and slid his tongue forward when Brendon parted his lips on a gasp. They kissed hard and fast and deep enough to leave Brendon breathless and reeling.
When Shane pulled back, Brendon’s pulse was pounding in his ears and his fingertips and his toes and he thought so that’s what being kissed within an inch of your life feels like.
Shane grinned, sharp and crooked at Brendon and ushered him out of the door. Brendon stood, bags at his feet and heart in his throat, for a long time before he managed to get going.
_._
The first week on tour was always the most difficult. There was the rush of excitement that went along with being back on the road, but there was also the fact that as soon as it came time to step onstage, there was no real telling what would happen. It was seven days of getting used to constantly being on the move all over again and it was seven days of performing at night waiting for the inevitable glitches and screw-ups to be worked out.
Brendon spent most of the first week going strong, but he crashed hard on a Saturday night with his head in Spencer’s lap and his legs hooked over Jon’s thighs. He was asleep and dreaming of something weird, pixies and drum cadences maybe, when someone started to shake him awake.
He flailed his hand out at them and made a soft noise of protest. Spencer was warm and comfortable, as was Jon, and Brendon had no intention of moving.
“Hey,” Ryan’s voice said, his face so close Brendon could feel the wash of breath over his face. “Hey, Brendon, wake up.”
Brendon shook his head and said, “no, Ross, m’sleeping.”
There was an amused huff of breath and then the heavy weight of Ryan’s head on his chest.
“Brendon,” Ryan wheedled. “Breeendon.”
Brendon shook his head again and squealed when Jon seized one ankle and dragged a fingertip along the arch of his foot. He knew how ticklish Brendon was, bastard. Spencer laughed when Brendon’s eyes shot open and he didn’t stop even in the face of the glare being directed up at him.
“I hate you,” he complained without much heat.
Ryan nuzzled his chest and then lifted his phone and said, “okay, he’s awake.” He handed it to Brendon and added, “Keltie wants to say hi.”
Brendon took the phone with fingers that felt heavy and clumsy with sleep and said, “isn’t it really late wherever you are?”
Keltie laughed. “Since when do I have regular sleeping hours?” she asked, and this was very true. She stayed up as late as Ryan did and slept as little as Brendon. She was bionic.
“True,” Brendon said, and he could practically feel the warmth of Keltie’s smile over the line.
“So, I just wanted to call and say Happy Trimester Day! I just made that up, I don’t think it’s an actual day but technically it is, right? Anyway, congratulations!”
Brendon’s eyebrows flew up and he looked quizzically at Ryan who just grinned softly back. “Um,” he said, “okay.”
Keltie sighed, a fast gust of breath, and said, “you’ve officially made it into your second trimester, Brendon! That means you’re one-third of the way through and you’re still healthy and the baby’s still healthy! It’s totally a big deal.”
“Oh,” Brendon said quietly.
He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t realized what today was, hadn’t even paid much attention when Dr. Pierson had talked about trimesters and milestones. Brendon felt suddenly, strangely invincible which was a far cry from the vulnerability and fear he’d been struggling with for weeks.
“Congratulations, Bren,” she said again, voice gentle and sincere.
Brendon thanked her and handed the phone back to Ryan who murmured a quick goodbye. He hung up and looked expectantly at Brendon. Brendon stared blankly back before pushing himself into a sitting position. His head swam a little bit.
“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked, and Brendon shrugged and looked down at his lap.
“Good,” he answered after a moment, lifting his head to share smiles with Ryan and Jon and Spence. “Really good.”
_._
Touring was what it always was: being stuck in confined spaces with the same people for days on end and long, draining hours and performances that were good and some that were bad and some that were fucking amazing. Brendon was pretty used to it. What he was not used to was doing it pregnant. Everything seemed to require more stamina now and instead of falling into the routine of sleeping a few hours a day and going strong the rest of the time, Brendon was constantly taking naps and falling asleep on his bandmates.
They didn’t mind. They encouraged it, even. Zack, in particular, kept a careful eye on Brendon and made sure he was eating right and getting enough rest. It was like having a team full of midwives instead of just the one; it kind of made sense. Zack and gotten in contact with Theresa ten minutes after Brendon had given him the news and he now had his own sets of lists and numbers to call. He was, as Spencer liked to say, totally and completely prepared. Like a boy scout.
Performances were the most exhausting and after every one, Brendon had to force himself out to sign autographs and say hello even though he just wanted to curl up somewhere and pass out. A few of the more observant and bold fans mentioned his recent lack of energy after one show.
“I’m fine,” Brendon assured them. “Just fighting off a cold.”
They seemed to buy it and Brendon freaked out a little because he didn’t want the stage show to suffer because of his condition. Ryan assured him it wasn’t.
“They’re probably just talking about all the pictures of you looking like your grandma died,” he said while they watched Spencer and Jon attempt an epic Halo tournament (it was fruitless; Jon was too good for Spencer and they all knew it).
“I can’t help it,” Brendon whined, slumping sideways into Ryan’s lap and sighing softly when long fingers started sifting through his hair. “Being pregnant is hard, Ryan,” he whispered.
The words felt harsh in his throat even though he’d meant them lightly. They hung in the air for a shaky moment and then Ryan bent at the waist and kissed Brendon’s temple. He didn’t reply. There wasn’t much he could say to that, but he scratched lightly at Brendon’s scalp and shared his bodyheat and that was enough.
A few times, tour took an emotional toll on Brendon. Like when he and Jon got into a horrible fight that lasted almost three days, during which Jon didn’t talk to Brendon at all and Brendon refused to apologize for whatever stupid thing he’d said and it became evident that maybe neither of them were handling the whole pregnancy thing as well as they liked to pretend. The night after a particularly shitty show during which Brendon crowded Ryan’s space and Jon sang like every word was a well-formed weapon and everything felt off-balance, Ryan went after Jon in the bunks and Spencer cornered Brendon in the back lounge.
“So,” Spencer said, looking at Brendon who was tucked into a corner of the couch, idly watching the menu screen of one of Ryan’s weird-ass French films.
“What?” Brendon snapped.
He could see Spencer’s jaw clench out of the corner of his eye and bit back an apology. He was pissed and he was so fucking tired all the fucking time and Jon was an asshole and Brendon didn’t want to say he was sorry. He didn’t even feel sorry, not for anything. Not really. Or maybe he was so sorry he couldn’t figure out how to say the words and mean them.
He bit down hard on his bottom lip and flinched away when Spencer sat close to him on the couch.
“You want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, and Brendon shook his head. “Too bad,” he continued. “What the fuck is going on?”
Brendon didn’t know. He’d been getting into little fights with Spencer and Ryan and Jon for weeks now, tiny verbal skirmishes that were over before they’d even really gotten started. They’d all grown to accept his moodiness, even if it was inconvenient for all of them. Nothing had been like this, though, with stony silences lasting endless hours.
It had started with the stupidest thing, too, something so stupid Brendon could barely remember it. All he could remember was Jon yelling at him about how fucking stupid he always was, how irresponsible, and Brendon yelling back that at least he wasn’t fucking useless and Jon had spit out a venomous “fuck you” and stormed out and Brendon had locked himself in the bathroom and spent an hour determinedly not crying.
“Look,” Spencer said quietly, “we know it’s hard, okay? It’s hard for us, too. I mean, it’s different, but it’s hard. “
Brendon frowned at the television screen and didn’t look up until Spencer gripped his shoulder and shook him gently.
“You’re not even four months pregnant yet,” he said. “You’ve got to live with us and we’ve got to live with you until you have this baby. You can’t keep pulling this shit and expect it to be smooth.”
“I wasn’t the only one present for the fight,” Brendon pointed out.
“Don’t worry, Ryan’s probably lecturing Jon’s ears off as we speak,” Spencer said with a small smile.
Brendon made a face and turned back to the TV. “I didn’t mean what I said,” he muttered.
“So tell Jon,” Spencer said.
It took Brendon a good three hours to get up the courage. It was well past his bedtime but he sat up in the lounge anyway, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to apologize to Jon without sacrificing every inch of his already non-existent dignity.
When no answer was forthcoming and Brendon had already fielded about six threatening texts telling him to get some sleep or else, he rolled to his feet and stumbled back to the bunks. He hesitated outside of Jon’s bottom bunk for a brief moment before kneeling down and whispering, “knock, knock.”
He was pretty sure Jon was asleep, but the curtain twitched open a moment later and Jon whispered, “what do you want, Brendon?”
So he was still pissed. Brendon sighed and it was ridiculous but he felt like crying again. He hated hormones, fucking hated them.
“I didn’t mean it,” he murmured. “You’re not useless and I’m sorry I’m so stupid, I really am, but when the fuck are you going to forgive me instead of just pretending? You’re not a liar so stop fucking lying to me.”
Jon didn’t say anything and Brendon sucked in a sharp breath, leaning half into Jon’s bunk.
“You’re not useless, Jon, okay? Forgive me?”
“Shit,” Jon said harshly before reaching out and tugging Brendon into the cramped space.
Jon buried his face in Brendon’s neck and his lips were moving but Brendon couldn’t hear the words. He clung to Jon, though, and tried to make out the shape of them.
He thought he caught them, the “you’re not stupid” and the “I’m sorry, too” and, most importantly, “I forgive you, I forgive you, fuck”. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter.
Previous
Next