white on white (a better view) [ryan/spencer] - 2/2
part one
~*~
[in the air]
Gerard is....interesting.
Ryan feels that itching under his skin that he gets every time Brendon is around, but with Gerard it's not so intense. Less an itch and more a soft buzz. Ryan likes to watch Gerard ("Call me Gee, everyone does") talk. He uses his whole body and it fascinates Ryan to no end, the control he has even with such spastic movements. Ryan still feels as though he's struggling in his own skin, like this isn't the body he was born into. He still can't remember anything before the day he found Spencer.
Gerard's studio is always a wreck, media and miscellaneous items strewn about each time they visit. Spencer calls it a "living work of art," Frank calls it "Fucking Lazy Disgusto Land," and Brendon doesn't call it anything since he's been banned from entering. Nobody will tell Ryan exactly why.
Each time they visit, Ryan finds himself in front of the same canvas.
The painting's done in muted tones of red and gray, but the lines are bold. He follows a couple of the strings up the neck of the guitar, fingers pausing before tracing the outline of one feather. They're not a prominent part of the painting, but Ryan's shoulders ache just looking at them. It feels like the edge of a memory each time, standing here. He presses a little harder into the canvas, feels the drag of the grain and the roughness of dried paint.
"You really like that one, huh?"
Ryan snatches his fingers away, turning to find Gerard watching him with a thoughtful gaze.
"It's just-" his tongue feels heavy, awkward. It's not an unusual feeling. "Jon and Brendon have been teaching me how to play guitar." Gerard nods his head, but Ryan gets the distinct feeling that Gerard knows there's more to it.
Gerard steps up beside Ryan. Tilting his head up, a soft smile appears on Gerard's face.
"It's called Patron Saint of Broken Strings."
Ryan nods. He knew that. Gerard reaches out, finger running along the same lines that Ryan had. Ryan shivers, the ghost of a feeling slipping over him. "It embarrasses him, but this is based on a friend of mine." Gerard's eyes get this faraway look, and Ryan knows he's lost in his own memories. A spark of envy shoots through him. He wonders if it's strange to miss something he can't even remember.
"Ray-" Gerard hesitates, gathering his thoughts. "Ray saved my life, not long ago. He'll deny it, but it's true. I was lost-" Ryan watches Gerard's fingers, still on the canvas, feels the quick glance toward him. "Like you are."
Ryan swallows hard, keeping his eyes forward. He startles at the touch to his shoulder, but Gerard just rests his hand there. After a moment, Ryan relaxes.
"But it was a choice, my being lost. I wanted to forget and I chose whatever self-destructive method would get me there, until there was almost nothing left." His voice is soft, a little reverent, "Ray pulled me out of that, stood by me the whole time. He's a good friend." Gerard squeezes Ryan's shoulder. "The best, actually."
There's a gentle tug, a suggestion of movement and Ryan angles his body toward Gerard, finally meeting those earnest hazel eyes. "You've got those here, Ryan. I hope you know that." And after a second, "I think you do."
Gerard grins suddenly, "And Ray plays guitar like an angel, so there's that, too." Ryan can't help but smile back. Gerard's like that.
**
Brendon has a roommate, Shane, who's gone most of the time. In fact, it's nearly three months before Ryan even gets to meet him. To Ryan, Shane is a lot like Jon. There's a sense of calm that follows him around, and even Brendon slows down a bit when he's home.
It seems like Shane always has a camera in his hands and it made Ryan wary at first, until Shane explains the device. He tells Ryan one time that it's like holding home in his hands when he's got a camera. Ryan thinks about that for a few days, turning it around in his head. He thinks about Brendon's face when he's singing, about Jon's fingers along the strings of his guitar and the satisfaction on Spencer's face when a recipe works the way he wanted.
*
They're in the middle of an epic Guitar Hero battle when Spencer walks in the door. It's mostly Brendon on his knees, guitar neck high in the air and Ryan just trying to follow along. Shane's lying on the floor with his camera, laughing at the both of them.
Ryan stops when Spencer appears, half-turning to face him. Spencer raises an eyebrow and Ryan can feel a smile stretching across his face. Spencer looks a little startled but a second later, returns it full force.
There's the faint sound of a shutter click as Ryan stares at Spencer. His stomach feels funny, light. Holding home. And it finally makes real sense to him.
Something must show on his face because Spencer steps forward, hand to his elbow and asks, "Ryan? You okay?"
"He's fine, Spence! Well, besides getting wiped all over the place by my Awesome Guitar Skills." Brendon pops up next to them, slinging an arm around Ryan's shoulders. Something hums at the back of Ryan's mind.
Spencer rolls his eyes, "You know, even when you speak in capitals, it doesn't make it real? You know that, right, Brendon?" Brendon flips him off and Spencer grins again. The camera goes off in quick succession and Spencer groans out a curse at Shane. Brendon laughs, loud and near his ear.
Ryan focuses on breathing.
**
"Hey, Ryan!"
Startled, he drops a plate. A spray of dirty dishwater splatters the front of his apron, "Shit, sorry, Ry, didn't mean to sneak up on you." Ryan turns, wiping his hands on the towel tucked into the tie-string around his waist. Spencer steps up, tugging at it. It's wrapped around Ryan's waist three times.
"Damn, you're still too skinny." He frowns and Ryan lightly slaps his hand away. Not like it's something he can change, being skinny. He eats more than Brendon. Looking up at Spencer, he raises an eyebrow, waiting.
"Oh! Yeah, um-" A faint blush works its way across Spencer's cheeks and Ryan wants to touch it. It looks warm; Ryan likes warm. He grips the towel tighter instead. Brendon's overtly affectionate, but Ryan has yet to feel that free with human contact, even after this long.
"Spencer?"
"Right! Right. I was wondering if you could get back home by yourself. Tonight. When you get off work. I mean, I know you can get back by yourself, but, um. Do you mind going back to the apartment by yourself tonight?"
He seems flustered and Ryan frowns, "Why? Are you ill? Do we need to-" He still can't go anywhere near the hospital.
"No! No, no, nothing that drastic. It's just, um," the blush darkens, "I finally asked Haley to dinner and a movie and Pete overheard, so he's making me go home early and-" Ryan tunes him out. Spencer only rambles when he's really nervous or excited about something. And Haley. Well, Haley's something to be nervous and excited about. She's Pete's head hostess, slight and beautiful, with kind brown eyes. Laughing eyes. Ryan likes her.
Spencer likes her a whole lot more.
*
Later that night, Ryan lies awake, surrounded by the darkness. Restless, he turns over for the millionth time, listening for something he can't define.
~*~
[close to understanding]
Ryan's not sure what wakes him exactly but a muttered ow, fuck lets him know that Spencer's finally returned home. He sits up on the couch and the early morning light from the living room blinds him momentarily. Spencer lets out a startled, "Ryan! Shit, you scared me--" before he's able to focus.
"What the hell, Ry? Did you fall asleep out here last night?"
"You didn't come home."
"Oh." Ryan watches as a faint blush makes its way across Spencer's cheeks. "Yeah. Yeah, I, uh. Stayed at Haley's last night-" He looks strangely at Ryan, the expression on his face one that Ryan can't decipher, "You waited up?"
Ryan shrugs, repeating softly, "You didn't come home."
His mouth tightens, but after a moment, Spencer flops down on the couch. His head falls back and Ryan notices the mark on his neck, high, just under his ear. He reaches out to touch it and Spencer jerks, hand flying up. His blush deepens at Ryan's questioning look. "It's a hickey? When someone, uh, sucks on your skin for a bit-" A thought seems to hit Spencer all of a sudden, a frown marring his forehead. "You-you remember sex don't you? Please, please, tell me you remember sex-" Ryan shakes his head. "Oh god."
They sit in silence for a few minutes. Spencer opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again half a second later. "So. So-" another deep breath, "So when a guy and a girl decide, um, well. If two people who love each other-"
"So you love Haley?"
"Uh, well, we've only been going out a few weeks-"
"But you just said-"
"I know, I know! Just. There are different levels of love?" Ryan looks skeptical. "Fuck. You know what? Ask Jon. Or Brendon. Wait, no--ask Jon. Definitely not Brendon."
Spencer gets up, looks down at Ryan for a moment before saying quietly, "Hey. I'm sorry I didn't let you know, okay? I'll call next time, promise." Ryan nods. Spencer holds his gaze, not saying anything until finally he mumbles about taking a shower and turns away. Ryan watches until he disappears into the bedroom.
*
Haley comes over one evening to watch a movie and they all sit on the couch. Haley's in close, Spencer's arm tucking her tight into him. Ryan sits on the other side and spends most of the time staring at the space between Spencer's leg and his own. When the movie ends, Haley's surreptitiously trying to wipe her eyes and Spencer's voice is low and warm when he turns in towards her.
Ryan hears the soft sound of a kiss but can't make himself get up off the couch.
**
They're standing in the middle of the kitchen, Brendon recounting some wild adventure that he and Jon had two days ago when Ryan kisses him.
There's a surprised huff of air against his lips. A second later, Brendon starts kissing him back. Ryan's not sure what to do with his hands until Brendon pulls him closer, fingers curling around his hips. Ryan's hands fall to Brendon's shoulders. Brendon hums a little, licking at the seam of Ryan's mouth. He opens up, hands clenching into Brendon's shirt. The kiss is soft, a little wet, and something swirls in his belly. He presses closer.
After a moment Brendon pulls away and he follows with a small noise of protest. Brendon says his name quietly and Ryan can feel a blush start across his checks. He tries to move back, but Brendon's fingers tighten, halting any further movement.
"Hey," Brendon says softly. "Don't. I just. I know I'm not the one you want, okay?" Ryan frowns and Brendon gently bumps his forehead against Ryan's. "Besides-" he grins. From this close, it's a little bit blinding, "-I'm saving myself for Jon Walker."
Ryan can still feel the heat on his cheeks, but can't help a quiet laugh. "Good luck with that." He's about to say something else, a thank you maybe, when a noise makes him look toward the living room.
Spencer's standing in the doorway, eyes wide.
Ryan tenses and Brendon's grip tightens again for just a second before he's stepping back. He doesn't go very far. Instead, he pulls Ryan into his side with an arm around his shoulders and grins at Spencer, "Hey, Spence didn't hear you come in." Ryan thinks that's a lie, but doesn't protest. "No worries, though, just helping Ryan figure some stuff out."
"What? With your dick?"
Ryan can feel Brendon start next to him. Even Spencer looks a little taken back by his own words. No one says anything in response, the air tense. Finally Brendon mutters, "Right, right." He squeezes Ryan closer for a second and places a soft kiss against his temple. Spencer opens his mouth, but Brendon slides by without looking at him. A second later, the front door shuts.
The resulting silence is awkward and Ryan refuses to look up, to be the one to break it. Spencer steps in closer and from the corner of his eye, Ryan can see Spencer's outstretched hand fall away.
"Ryan-"
Spencer's voice is a little rough and Ryan flashes to the kiss, the soft press of lips. Spencer's close now, standing right in front of him, and Ryan remembers the heat of Brendon's body, so close to his own. He's tilting his chin up when the scent hits him. It's subtle, slightly musky, and Ryan knows it instantly.
Ryan jerks back. He can hear the soft inhale of breath, knows that Spencer's about to speak. He doesn't want to hear it though. So he turns instead and walks down the hallway to the bedroom - his room, hishishis, Spencer said it was months ago - and shuts the door before Spencer can say anything. Before he can say Haley's name.
He thinks he knows what Brendon meant now.
*
The next morning, Ryan's on his way to the bathroom when he hears Spencer's voice from the living room.
"Yeah, I know it was an asshole-ish thing to say. How many times do I have to apologize?" A short pause and Ryan's moving toward the end of the hallway. Spencer looks up as he comes into view. "Yes, Brendon." He rolls his eyes. "Yes. Of course. Yes, I understand. Apology banana pudding, got it."
At the mention of banana pudding, Ryan straightens up. Maybe he should kiss Brendon more often. It wasn't an unpleasant experience. Spencer gives him a look as if he knows exactly what Ryan's thinking.
Ryan ducks his head, blushing, and refuses to think about who he'd really like to be kissing.
**
They're all in the living room a week later, surrounded by instruments. Most of the tension between Brendon and Spencer has dissipated, but occasionally Ryan sees Jon looking between the three of them.
That night Ryan makes it all the way through Blackbird, accompanied by Jon, Brendon singing softly. It's a rush, the last note humming through the air. Ryan's fingers sting a little and he wants to thank Jon, but his eyes find Spencer's first. Spencer's eyes are bright with pride and he claps enthusiastically.
Ryan can't look away, a different kind of ache settling in his chest. Jon claps a hand on his shoulder in congratulations then, breaking his line of sight and Brendon tackles him a second later.
A few hours pass and Jon and Brendon are passed out on the living room floor. On the couch, Spencer's near enough that Ryan leans into him without provocation. Spencer puts his arm around Ryan's shoulders and whispers, "You're doing all right, Ryan 'Ross.'" Brendon likes alliteration, loves the idea that they each match now.
*
The next morning, Ryan comments on how well Jon and Brendon fit together while sleeping and Brendon nearly swallows his tongue choking. Spencer remarks on the exact shade of red that Brendon's turning and Jon just sits at the kitchen table, grinning.
Everything seems good.
~*~
[along the edge]
Life goes on and Ryan continues to observe everything around him. He likes to think that he's adjusting, that he's somehow become part of the flow of a world he doesn't fully remember. He's made a life here: days spent with Spencer, doing nothing much at all. Watching Brendon dance and sing around the apartment. The weird but entertaining mating ritual that seems to be going on between Brendon and Jon. Playing with Hobo. Washing dishes in the back of Pete's restaurant.
His days are full and the ache in his chest is so faint some days, he almost doesn't feel it all.
And then Mrs. G dies.
*
Ryan can't stop shaking.
Hobo curls around his feet, whining. Ryan knows he should pick her up, comfort her. Her owner is gone. Ryan knows she is, he felt it. Felt the moment when she died. He knows that's what it was. The pure moment of calm in his chest when she'd wrapped her fingers around his and closed her eyes.
He'd thought it was over, but now he can feel the ache again. The hum under his skin, so very faint right now. But Ryan knows how it goes. How it will intensify. What it means.
"What the fu-? Ryan? What's wrong?" Spencer voice is creeping higher, worried. Ryan realizes he's panting, but it feels like he can't get a solid breath. "What's going on? Ryan. Ryan. Look at me."
He does.
Blueblueblue. Spencer's eyes are so very, very blue. The ache jumps with the beat of his heart.
Spencer's eyes are blue and he's dying. Ryan's head spins. A hand on his shoulder barely registers, but Brendon's quiet, "Mrs. G passed away today-" has his head snapping up. "And apparently Ryan was with her. "
Brendon's dying too.
Ryan can't breathe, can't think, can't get past the litany of dying, dying, they're all dying that's going round and round in his head. They're all dying and he can feel it.
"Jesus, Spence, he's going to pass out if-"
"I know, but I can't get him to tell me what's wrong." He can hear the tinge of panic in both their voices, but can't seem to make himself respond. He wants the ache to go away, wants this day to not have happened. He wants Mrs. G back. The edges of his vision start to darken when he finally rasps out, "Sing." The words are harsh out of his throat, "Please. Brendon, please."
So Brendon sings.
*
Ryan wakes, out of breath, his heart hammering in his chest, the darkness of the room pressing down on him. His fingers ache where they're clenched in the sheets. It's not the first time he's had the nightmare, but each time it terrifies him. Jon. Brendon. Spencer. Slipping away, out of reach, a heartbeat at a time.
"Ryan?" Spencer's in the doorway, voice is fuzzy with sleep. "You okay?" Hobo sits at his feet. She'd been on the bed when Ryan fell asleep.
No, he thinks, None of you are. Instead, he croaks out, "Nightmare." His throat feels raw, like he's been screaming.
Spencer sighs and moves into the room to sit on his bed. It's not so dark now, Ryan notices. The moon is pushing light across the room even through the closed blinds. He can see Spencer's profile in the half-light.
"We're fine, you know." The words are soft, reassuring. It's not the first time he's said them in the last week. After Ryan had finally settled down that day, he'd tried to explain, but neither Brendon or Spencer really understood. He didn't really understand himself, so he didn't hold it against them. Regardless, Spencer spends a lot more time at home and Ryan can't pretend that it's not what he wants.
"Ryan?"
"I know," he finally responds.
Spencer sighs, "But you don't believe me." He reaches over to brush a strand of hair off Ryan's forehead. It's gotten longer, and Spencer tucks a wayward curl behind his ear. Ryan leans into the touch, rubbing his check against the warmth. Spencer freezes for a moment before moving his hand back to his lap. They're both silent until finally Spencer clears his throat. "You okay now?" Ryan murmurs an assent, knows it's what Spencer wants to hear.
Later, after Spencer's gone back to bed, Ryan slides a hand across the fading warmth of the spot where he'd been. He can feel the ghost of fingers in his hair. He buries his face into the pillow until Hobo wiggles a cold nose under his chin.
**
"Haley, I told you that--No. No, I told you that Ryan just lost-What?" Spencer looks shocked. "I don't understand-can't you just explain why-"
Ryan watches Spencer's eyes flicker over to him before he turns, placing his back towards the couch where Ryan's seated. Frustration is evident in Spencer's voice, in the tense line of his shoulders.
"What the hell?" A quick glance over his shoulder again before Spencer snaps his head back.
"That is the most fuckin' ridiculous--seriously? Hales-" Ryan can make out the tinny sound of Haley's voice even across the living room. Spencer's voice raises in response, "That's stupid, I can't believe you'd even--Haley--Haley don't, don't you dare hang up on-"
"Fuck!"
Ryan sits very still and doesn't ask.
*
"Ryan, have you seen--shit, sorry!" He sees a blush bloom on Spencer's face before he spins back around into the hallway.
Ryan finishes pulling up his pants and wanders out into the hallway, shirt in hand. He nearly runs into Spencer. A hand shoots out to steady him, but jerks away the instant it touches bare skin. Ryan frowns. "Spencer?"
Spencer's head jerks up from Ryan's chest, gaze startled. His face is bright red now. Stepping closer, he says Spencer's name again.
"Um. Never mind. I think, I mean I remember what I did with it." He moves around Ryan, doing his best to not touch him.
*
Haley still hasn't called and refuses to talk to Spencer at work.
Two days ago, Ryan had turned away from the sink to see her standing in the doorway, just watching him. They stood there for a few minutes until she said, "There's something about you--" She'd smiled, sad and a little wistful. "Something I can't compete with." He'd opened his mouth to respond, to contradict her, when she'd turned to go and said over her shoulder, "Don't wait too long, Ryan-"
"-you'll lose it all."
**
There's a new tension in the air and a physical distance that Spencer seems intent on keeping. Even Jon and Brendon have noticed the change in the apartment, but whenever either one of them says anything Spencer cuts them off with a curt reply. He refuses to discuss it with Ryan, insisting that nothing's wrong.
*
Shane stops by with Brendon, dropping off a few photographs before he leaves town again. He tells Ryan where he's headed, but Ryan's attention is on the other two in the room. Brendon's watching intently as Spencer shuffles through the pictures. At the last one, Spencer pales. That seems to be the reaction Brendon's looking for because a few minutes later, he and Shane are headed out the door.
It's not until later, after Spencer's gone to bed, that Ryan takes a look. He smiles at Brendon's silly face, traces a close-up shot of Jon's hands on his guitar. There's even one of Ryan reading, feet tucked up under Hobo on the couch. He gets to the last one and knows instantly when it was taken, knows this is definitely the one that upset Spencer.
Ryan leaves the picture on the coffee table, holding home scrawled across the back. It's not there when he wakes up in the morning.
**
"Dammit, Ryan! How many times have I told you to shut the light off in the bathroom when you're finished?" Spencer's itching for a fight, Ryan can tell. He stills, Hobo on his lap, and doesn't respond.
"Well?" Spencer's standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, hip jutted out.
Ryan's tired, so very tired of all of this. Exasperation fills him and his "Sorry" sounds anything but. He refuses to look up. A few moments later, Spencer snorts and stalks into the kitchen. A cabinet opens and slams shut a second later. "Fuck! All the damn bread is gone."
Sighing, Ryan pushes off the couch and stops at the entrance to the kitchen. "You hate the end pieces anyway. That's all that was left."
"So, what? You can't get more?" Another cabinet closes. It bounces back open from the force and Spencer glares at it.
Ryan rolls his eyes. This is getting ridiculous and he can feel himself losing patience. "No, Spencer, I haven't been to the grocery store in the last, oh-" He looks at the Mickey Mouse watch on his wrist, the one Brendon had presented to him ages ago when he'd started working at Pete's, "-hour. Sorry."
Spencer turns to look at him, eyes narrowing at Ryan's tone. It's the first time he's really spoken to Spencer like that and he watches Spencer's mouth thin. "You don't sound sorry."
He's not. "That's because this is a ridiculous argument. Ever since Haley-"
"Stop," Spencer interrupts. "She's got nothing to do with this."
Ryan shakes his head. "I think you're wrong. I think you need to-" He pauses.
Spencer steps toward him with a low, "What, Ryan? What do you think I need? Do tell." Moving in closer, he continues, "Has Brendon been giving you 'lessons' again? Is that what I need?"
Startled, Ryan looks up. "What?"
Something in Spencer's face changes and he turns his face away before Ryan can get a good look. "What?" Ryan repeats, and when there's no answer, "Spencer?" He watches the line of Spencer's throat as he swallows.
"I wouldn't stop you," Spencer responds quietly. "You could do worse, you know. Brendon's fun. It'd be-"
Ryan can't think straight, Spencer's words tumbling around his head. This time, he's the one that steps in, moving forward until he's inches away from Spencer. Blood pounds in his ears.
"Spencer-" His voice cracks.
"It'd be good for a first time." Spencer finally turns to look at him, something like resignation in his eyes. Ryan hates it.
"I don't want to sleep with Brendon." He can feel the line of Spencer's body, the brush of their shirts with each inhale.
He can feel Spencer's breath, the softness of his question. "No?"
"No, not Brendon." Ryan whispers, the words half-spoken against Spencer's mouth. Spencer doesn't hesitate, pulling Ryan in closer with an arm around his waist. The other hand slides into the curls at the base of Ryan's neck. That feeling's back, the one he keeps waking up with each morning. It's stretching down, a heat pooling low in his belly. A sounds escapes, a moan, as their lips slide together.
Spencer pushes him away a second later. His eyes are wide, panicked. All Ryan can do is stare at his mouth, red and shiny, slightly swollen. His body unconsciously leans in, searching, when Spencer takes another step back.
Ryan's so confused now. "Spencer-?"
"I just--I." Spencer turns away. "I can't do this." A moment later, the front door closes quietly and Ryan stands alone in the kitchen.
*
When Spencer stumbles in hours later and obviously drunk, Ryan doesn't move from his position on the couch, barely even breathes when Spencer comes around it. Even in the darkness, he can feel the weight of Spencer's stare. Finally Spencer heads to his room, his quiet fuck echoing down the hallway.
Ryan doesn't dream. But then again, he doesn't really sleep.
~*~
[the crumbling difference]
Over the course of the next few days, Spencer spends most of his time away from the apartment. They see each other mostly in passing, to and from work. At work, Spencer avoids him, staying out afterwards and coming in later and later. Ryan's gotten used to not sleeping, waiting for Spencer to come home. There's a constant ache in his stomach, a sharp pain behind his eyes. He watches the circles under Spencer's eyes darken day after day and doesn't know what to do. Haley gives him a pointed look each day, but Ryan pretends he doesn't see it. The air is thick, ready to snap.
Brendon comes by a week later. He takes one look at Ryan and shuffles them both to the couch. He tugs them down and when Ryan makes a protesting sound, shushes him. Fitting himself snugly along Ryan's back, he states firmly, "Sleep." Ryan sighs, closing his eyes.
A minute later, he's asleep.
*
Ryan wakes with a sense of deja vu.
"What the fuck, Spence? What the hell are you even doing?" This time Brendon's voice is low, mixed with anxiety, anger and concern. Ryan remembers that first night. So much has changed since then.
Spencer hisses, "I don't know what you're talking about-" Brendon snorts in disbelief. Ryan doesn't move.
"You're being an asshole and you know it."
"If I'd wanted your opinion, I'd have asked for it."
"You look like shit." There's frustration in Brendon's voice, under the concern, and Ryan knows Brendon's hands are flailing about. "Ryan looks like he hasn't sleep in ages."
"He certainly didn't look like he was missing out when I got home-"
"Oh my god, Spencer, shut up. Quit trying to be a dick. You know I'm not the one Ryan's interested in." Ryan hides his face in the cushion along the back of the couch.
"That's not what it looked like."
There's a pause and then Brendon says, "You sound jealous." Spencer makes a noise of disbelief, but Brendon goes on. "What are you afraid of, Spence? Why won't you just tell him-"
Spencer interrupts him, voice rising, "There's nothing to tell him! Jesus, you just--you don't know what you're talking about."
"Right." Brendon sounds tired all of a sudden and Ryan can empathize. "Right, I don't know jack shit."
He has to strain to hear Brendon's next words, the words are so quiet. "Ryan's special, Spence, I do know that. I know that until a couple of weeks ago, you were happier than I've ever seen you. Hell-" Ryan visualizes Brendon scrubbing his hand through the hair at the back of his neck, "-we all have been."
The sounds of keys being picked up echo in the kitchen. "You need to make a choice, Spencer. Or I might just make it for you." The front door closes softly and Ryan listens to the silence. After a moment, Spencer slams out the door.
*
Ryan finally falls asleep, the 5:07AM fading in a blur of red, and wakes before the alarm. He lies in bed until it goes off, running his key back and forth along its chain. Spencer's scheduled for the afternoon shift, but Ryan's supposed to be there at 9:30 to help with lunch opening duties. So he showers, ignoring the ache--differentkindofpain-- in his chest. He sits on the couch for an hour before walking out the door at 8:55am. He arrives at 9:29, just as Alex -"I'm the oldest, dammit, I get to use my own name"- opens the service entrance.
No one talks to him, although he can feel their concerned looks. The lunch rush passes and Ryan glances at the clock. 2:45. Spencer should be here soon. His shoulder blades itch as he goes back to loading the dishes.
*
"Ryan."
It's the wrong voice, definitely not the one he's expecting. He turns toward Jon, and the look on his face twists something inside Ryan. He can't seem to breathe. The clock on the wall reads 3:02.
Spencer's late.
"Rya-" Jon's voice cracks.
He should be here.
The glass he's holding shatters when it hits the floor, but Ryan doesn't hear it. Doesn't hear anything but the desperate pain in Jon's voice, the answering one in his heart.
*
He curls his hand around Spencer's, so still on the stark white of the sheets, and ignores the crushing pain in his chest. There was so much pressure, pressing in on him from all sides, that Jon had to practically carry him into the hospital.
Tightening his fingers, he concentrates on the pulse beneath his. The slow beat of Spencer's heart, paced by the beep of the machine he's connected to.
Please.
The sheets are scratchy against his cheek but he doesn't move, just rests there, watching Spencer's face.
Please don't leave me.
He falls asleep, exhausted from the pain and fear, Spencer's hand gripped tight in his own.
~*~
[slipping through]
"Ryan?"
He turns.
"Oh, Ryan."
The voice is familiar, warm and honeyed, and Ryan searches for a flash of gold curls. He spins around, but no one's there.
"Your heart, Ryan. Why is it so cold?"
It's not, he wants to shout, remembering the searing pain from earlier. He wants to claw at his shirt, pound on his chest and yell, "How could something that beats so hard, with so much pain, be cold?" The words catch in his throat, unspoken.
She's wrong. She has to be wrong.
He reaches out and the scene shifts.
*
"Greta says you've got a heart of stone, but I don't believe it." A tall, lithe blonde twirls around him. Keltie, a voice whispers through his head.
He hears himself answer, the words falling from his lips. "They all die, Kelts. Alone. No one cares about them. They spend all their lives giving their hearts away and how do they end up? Alone."
They're not, he shouts. They're not alone, I'm there. I'll be there. There's no sound and the words are only in his head.
"Oh, Ry," her hand is soft against his cheek, eyes sad as she searches his face, "How can you do what we do and not believe in love?"
It's an old argument, he feels, one that has no ending. His voice answers again.
"It's not that I don't believe. It's that it just seems, I don't know? Pointless? Why give all that away, only to end up heartbroken and alone in the end?"
There's a fleeting brush of lips against his cheek, a whispered, "You'll see, Ryan. One day, you will."
He reaches out, but she dances away with a sad laugh, fading.
*
"There's not a lot of time left, Ryan. You've got to make a choice soon." Greta. Tiny. Fierce.
Her words sink in.
"What do you mean, a choice? A choice of what?" He doesn't understand. How can he make a choice when he doesn't even remember the options?
"Why do you keep hesitating?"
Keltie again. Every emotion there for the world to see.
"I'm not!" His voice is hoarse, like he's been screaming for hours. Or crying. "I don't know what you mean-"
He knows them, can see their faces in his mind. Around and around he whirls, searching. But they refuse to appear and he remains stubbornly alone.
"You've got to say the words, Ryan, or nothing will change-"
There's a sea of blue all around him.
"-you'll lose everything."
He's drowning.
*
It's so bright that it takes a few minutes for Ryan's eyes to acclimatize, until he can see the figure standing in front of him.
"Oh, honey." He knows Greta instantly, wonders how he could have ever forgotten. He smiles wide, twisting a golden curl around his finger. She smiles back, slower. There's a sadness in her eyes and his smile slides away.
"Greta?"
"Didn't we tell you, Ryan?" The familiar frustration has him turning his head toward Keltie, another smile at the ready. Why had it been so hard to remember them? They're his companions, have been since the beginning. But Keltie's not smiling, her face more somber than he's ever seen. "You never listen."
"What are you talking about?"
He remembers then, abruptly. Everything fades away and he whispers, "Spencer."
"What would you give, Ryan?" Keltie's question is soft, curious.
"Anything."
He searches Greta's face. "Everything." Something shifts in her eyes, less sad.
"You wouldn't be able to change it, Ryan. You know that."
"I do, I know that. But-"
Keltie rests her chin on his shoulder and whispers in his ear, "You'd still go back then, knowing? Maybe spend the rest of your life without him? Be alone?"
"Yes, yes," he answers without hesitation. "Please."
~*~
[lightning dream]
Ryan opens his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. For a moment, he's terrified that they haven't sent him back, that he's still with his companions. But Spencer is there, still so motionless. He moves to touch Spencer's face and it's then that he feels them. His wings are brilliant white, drowning the room nothing but warmth and light. He spreads them, momentarily reveling in the weight at his shoulders, the stretch of skin. He'd forgotten the feeling.
The heart monitor beeps.
He spreads them out again, a little wider, and the tips tingle. He ignores it, curling his fingers around Spencer's hand once more. A piece of ash lands on the bed a second later, a stark contrast against the sheets. Another falls near it. He turns his head and watches as his wings spark, crumbling away in a quiet fire.
It doesn't hurt.
When they're gone, he closes his eyes briefly, but the sound of a ragged inhale has them snapping open again. Spencer's eyes are the most brilliant blue he's ever seen.
"They were beautiful."
The words are so soft that Ryan's not sure he didn't actually imagine them. It's not until Spencer's fingertips brush his cheek that Ryan realizes he's crying.
"Ryan-"
He brushes his lips softly against Spencer's. A promise. Spencer's fingers rest against the pulse in Ryan's throat and he kisses back.
There's no ache in his chest.
You'll see, you will.
Please check out these two awesome mixes for white on white (a better view).