a sensation of falling (eventual gsf) - part 5
master post | to remember, i | to remember, ii | to dream | to move, i | to move, ii | to wake | fanart | fanmix
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
[to move: a step back]
The band on stage isn't bad, but Spencer's not really listening. The alcohol in his system is buzzing under his skin. Jon's talking to Greenwald-Spencer hears his name- but there's this guy standing behind them at the bar. Spencer's staring hard at the back of this guy's head over Jon's shoulder and not really paying attention. There's something really familiar-
"Drink up, birthday boy!" A shot lands in front him. "You only turn 21 once!"
Jon and Alex are holding similar shots and on the count of three, they all see who can finish first. A cheer goes up from the people standing nearby and Spencer forgets about the guy at the bar.
Later, he's making his way back to the table from the bar, three beers in his hand, when someone knocks into his shoulder on the edge of the dance floor. There’s a muttered apology in a deep, bland voice and Spencer’s head jerks up. The stranger disappears into the crowd before Spencer can get a decent look.
Couldn’t be. He shakes it off, stumbling a little from the effects of the alcohol.
“Yo, Smith. Earth to Spence, come on.” He whips his head back around and meets Alex’s gaze “You’re wasting premium beer time by space-cadetting.” Greenwald’s kind of a douche, but Spencer likes him enough to set his beer down with a pleasant fuck you, very much. He gets a grin in response.
Twisting his neck, he takes another glance around the club. Jon slides a hand over his hip as he grabs his own beer and Spencer turns his attention back to their table. He leans into Jon's touch, just a little.
*
"Fuck, Jon-"
His voice breaks as the head of his cock hits the back of Jon's throat. He can feel the prickle of the building's brick wall through his shirt, the sweat-damp skin on the back of Jon's neck. His fingers tighten in Jon's hair, but they slide through the shortened strands. Stupid hot haircut, Spencer manages to think before Jon swallows around him. His head knocks back against the wall, eyes closing. He's so close already.
"Shit! Sorry!"
Spencer's eyes snap open. The guy stumbles back out of the alley, all gangly arms and legs. There's a moment, when the light falls across his face, when Spencer gets a perfect look. His vision goes a little blurry around the edges as he comes, but it doesn't matter. He'd know those amber-colored eyes anywhere. Any time.
Ryan.
*
It’s not like he hadn't thought about it before. He'd found Jon, right?
Spencer spends the next two days in bed, claiming a hangover. While Greenwald just sends him increasingly tawdry text messages, Jon brings him water and slides into bed behind him. He never asks out loud, but a question is there each time he touches Spencer.
*
Greenwald slams through the door and flops on the couch. “I am in love. I’ve found my soul mate, Smith. And they dress like my grandpa.”
“Do they bathe?” Spencer responds, wrinkling his nose. “Because I can smell the grease build-up on your hair from a mile away.” Or at least a few feet, as he’s sitting on the other side of the couch.
Alex arches an eyebrow. “We can’t all have lovely, shiny locks of a maiden, Spencersmith. The world just isn’t fair like that.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer mutters in response, “Water. Soap. I hear it does wonders for your attraction to the opposite sex."
"Wait-" Spencer replays Alex’s earlier words. "Grandpa? When did you start batting for the other team?" Alex's love of the ladies is a well-known fact by the greater population of Chicago.
"Whatever." A hand wave. "We'll be hetero life-mates, Smith. We are going to make lovely, musical babies together." He pauses, then adds, "With awesome fashion sense."
Spencer snorts, changing the channel. "That's going to be really difficult, what with the no dick rule you have." He hits a channel showing Family Guy and Alex makes a little 'stop' noise. "Also, you can't have babies, Alex, no matter how much you'd like to."
"So negative, Smith. That beard has made you surly."
"Shut the fuck up, this beard is awesome." It's been three weeks since his birthday and something that started out as being too lazy to get out of bed and shave turned into something he really likes. He scritches his cheek. "Jon likes it."
Alex shoves off the couch. "I don't need to hear about your kinky sex life, Smith, I have to go make a plan." He slams the door on the way out, less than fifteen minutes after he arrived. A few minutes later Jon wanders out of the hallway, yawning and running a hand over his sleep-mussed hair. "Whassat Alex?"
Spencer nods, taking a moment to take in the way Jon's boxer hang low on his hips. Jon's been working out a lot more lately, dragging Spencer off to the gym. Spencer's appreciating the view and Jon finally notices the way Spencer's looking at him. He wanders over to the couch, pushing him down into the cushions as he slides his hands along Spencer's sides, underneath his shirt.
"We really need to start locking the door," Spencer mutters as Jon licks over his neck.
"We do," Jon replies, biting down softly just under Spencer's ear. "I'm pretty sure he managed to get a hold of a key somehow."
Spencer thrusts his hips up a little and Jon's breath catches. "That's not really very reassuring, Jon."
"Let's stop talking about Alex now, okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer, sliding his mouth over Spencer's.
*
It's not until he's halfway through the door and sees the that the coffee shop is near to full that Spencer remembers it's open mic night. The corner in the back that's the designated stage area is empty at the moment, but there's an acoustic propped up against the stool, old but obviously well-loved.
He considers turning around and heading back home, but through the crowd he spots Jon and heads over. He's only a couple steps away when he realizes that Jon's deep in conversation with someone. Someone wearing the most hideous paisley shirt Spencer's ever seen.
With pinstripe slacks.
"Fashion king of my dreams." Alex flings an arm around paisley shirt's shoulder. "Have you decided upon an answer to my proposal? Hey, Smith." He throws a chin nod in Spencer's direction and everyone turns around.
The thing is Spencer's spent the last few weeks doing a pretty good job of convincing himself that he'd been mistaken in the alley, that it hadn't been Ryan. Only as he stands here now, does he realize how wrong he was.
"Spence!" Jon steps in, sliding a finger into a belt loop and tugging him in closer. "You gotta met Ryan." Spencer can't seem to make his mouth move. Ryan's got a smile starting when he gets a good look at Spencer then his eyes get comically wide and he blushes. Spencer would laugh if he wasn't so busy freaking out inside.
"This is Ryan. Ryan, Spencer." He doesn't move until Ryan extends a hand to shake. It's the same hand, fingers long and bony, cool against his palm.
"Have we met? Not like, you know-that time, but before?" Ryan drops his chin. Spencer's suddenly remembers the same movement from a six-year old boy, and his heart physically aches.
"No," he says brusquely and Ryan's head snaps up to meet his.
"Are you sure? You just seem really fami-"
"We've never met." Spencer interrupts. He's got to get out of here, he can barely breathe. Jon's looking at him a little strangely, about to ask what's going on, Spencer knows. "I've gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Ry. Ryan." Fuck. "Greenwald, Jon."
He's halfway to the door before Jon catches up, a hand on his arm. "Spence? Everything okay?"
Alex is busy whispering into his ear, but Ryan keeps glancing over at the two of them. Spencer can feel his eyes and he just wants to get out of here. He smiles at Jon and tells him, "It's nothing, I promise. I've just, you know, got a lot stuff to do for classes. Last year and all that." Jon just nods, not entirely convinced. Biting his lip, Jon asks, "What did Ryan mean about 'not that time'?"
Blushing, Spencer tells Jon, "He, ah, kinda walked into the alley during-you know, that night."
Jon's eyebrows raise, "No shit." He looks back over his shoulder. "Think he knows it was me with you?" Alex waves, saying something to Ryan that makes him shift his gaze to Jon.
"Well, I'm pretty sure he does now. Listen-" Jon turns back to him. "I've gotta go. I'll see you later, okay?"
He can feel Ryan's eyes on him as he leaves, but he doesn't look back.
*
Spencer doesn't know exactly how long he sits there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the bottle in his hand. The pills rattle and he realizes that his hand is shaking.
Seeing Jon, finding him, had been a coincidence for Spencer. A weird happenstance between some figment of Spencer's youth and reality. But Ryan-
Ryan and Jon means something else all together. Something more than coincidence, something bigger. Ryan and Jon mean that maybe Bren-- Spencer shoves that thought away and settles on his side, pillow under his head. Reaching out, he sets the pill bottle on the night stand, unopened. His hands aren't shaking anymore, but he figures it's just because he feels a little numb now.
Turning off the lamp, the room goes dark. Light floats in from streetlights. It catches the edge of the bed, illuminating the bottle's label enough that Spencer can read his name with Dr. Blackinton's underneath it. Spencer stares at it until his vision blurs.
So yeah, it means something bigger, but he has no idea what.
Spencer's floating in that space between asleep and awake when Jon comes to bed later that night. He curls into Jon's warmth, sighing as arms wrap around him. There's a rumble as Jon murmurs his name, but Spencer's already slipping further into sleep. The slide of Jon's fingers around the back of his neck is the last thing he remembers.
He doesn't dream.
*
cum to the 'bux, bearded lady. there's a frou frou coffee product with your name on it. also, muse-ic.
Spencer rolls his eyes. Greenwald is still a strange, strange dude. He's halfway through typing sorry, i have to take a shower. cleanliness is next to godliness, you know when his phone rings.
There's a lot of noise in the background. "Hey, Jon."
"You should head over. Ryan's going to sing his new song, the one about waves of wooden legs." He says that like it's something Spencer should know. "Or something. I don't know, really, it's a pretty odd song." In the background, Spencer can hear someone shout your face is pretty odd. Greenwald. So they're both at the cafe. With Ryan.
Spencer ignores the flip in his stomach to ask, "So has Greenwald succeeded in seducing his hetero life-mate yet?" More laughter, distant but familiar. Jon snorts. "Of course not. Actually," he raises his voice. "Greenwald's in love with Ryan's friend, Z. For Elizabeth," he clarifies once again, like Spencer has any clue. He didn't realize that Jon was spending so much time with Ryan. The flip in his stomach turns over double time.
His thoughts are interrupted by an oomph, Jon's muttered 'fucker', and the clatter of a phone hitting the ground. Jon's back a moment later, apologizing.
"I've got a lab report due tomorrow." He does, but it's already typed up and ready to turn in. "So I think I'll stay in tonight." He can hear Jon sigh even over all the noise in the background.
"Spence-"
"I'll see you later, okay?" Jon's gotten a little too good at reading his voice. "You can tell me about-about waves of wooden legs or whatever the hell he's singing about when you come home." There's another sigh and Jon murmurs fine. Spencer's about to hang up when Jon states quietly, "You know I love you, right?"
Spencer swallows hard. It's not something they say very often, not something Spencer thinks about a lot. But he does know, he does. In the noisy background, he hears Ryan greet Alex.
Just as quietly, he returns, "I love you, too." He wishes it sounded more like a promise.
*
He's busy thinking about the discussion he has to lead in his Ethics in Science class next week so he doesn't notice that there's a body on the couch until he's practically sitting on it. He nearly falls on his ass trying to move back when he realizes who it is.
"What the hell?"
Ryan's eyes are startled and wide as he stares back at Spencer. It looks like he's about to respond when Alex wanders back into the living room and Spencer sputters, "What the fuck, Greenwald? You're like an apartment ninja. I swear to God. "
"You love it, don't deny it." Rolling his eyes, Spencer stands up. Ryan chooses that moment to stand and suddenly they're way to close. Spencer can see the little flecks of green in Ryan's eyes. He's got a ridiculous bowl cut, reminiscent of the one he'd had at seven-Spencer cuts off that train of thought and moves past the two of them.
He hollers over his shoulder, "Don't eat all the food, jackass." It sounds pretty light-hearted to him, enough to fool them. He's got homework to do anyway. Maybe his heart will stop beating so hard if he concentrates on something else.
*
A book hits the floor just as Spencer rounds the book stack, missing his toes by a narrow margin.
"Shit," someone mutters. "Sorry." Spencer recognizes the hand that reaches out to pick it up even before Ryan's eyes meet his and he offers a quiet, "Hey."
Spencer takes in the mess of books and papers spread out on the table. There's a pen being spun round and round, the only outward sign of nervousness. The fingers are ink-stained, the nails bitten-Kingston's reading over his shoulder. Reaching out, he runs a finger along a line of ink that's made its way down the side of Ryan's pinky finger. There's teasing and laughter-Spencer shakes himself out of the memory to respond with a nod, "Ryan."
There's surprise in his eyes. "I wasn't sure if you actually knew my name," he mumbles and Spencer nearly laughs. Jon's done nothing but talk about Ryan for the last two weeks. Ryan this, Ryan that, Ryan plays the guitar too, Ryan is an amazing writer. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Until Spencer want to yell I know, I've always known that, but he holds his tongue and lets Jon continue on.
To change the subject, Spencer taps a finger over one of the many books littering the table, a question.
"Grad student, American Lit," Ryan responds. It's so Ryan, that Spencer can't help the small smile that tugs at his mouth. Ryan says, tone a little defensive, "I like to read."
"I remember," Spencer murmurs. Ryan's gaze snaps back to his and Spencer can feel a blush making its way across his cheeks. He turns to go. "Anyway, I've gotta go find-"
"Is there something I've done to make you not like me?" Spencer pauses as Ryan continues, "I mean, I'm kind of lost in my own head a lot-" Spencer nearly laughs again, looking back over his shoulder. "So if I said anything-" Ryan trails off, looking a little lost. "I'm sorry?"
Before Spencer can respond, Ryan's continuing on. "You seem so familiar, but I just can't seem to place why." Ryan's gaze is intent, searching. Spencer can't seem to look away. "Are you sure we've never met?" He watches Ryan's gaze turn inward, searching. Panic flutters in his chest and Spencer just mumbles out, "No. No, we've never--never met." No, you never saw me. Never touched me. I didn't ever exist to you, so how can I be familiar? It's getting a little hard for Spencer to breathe.
Something must show on his face because a second later, Ryan reaches out. At the first touch of his hand, Spencer flinches. Turning away, he hurries past the table and down an aisle. Ryan's startled, "Spencer!" trails behind him and he just keeps going until he's pushed passed the main doors. He's halfway across campus before his breath settles and his vision clears.
Ryan must not say anything to Jon because he doesn't bring it up. Spencer breathes a little easier as they get into bed. He falls asleep eventually, determinedly not thinking about amber eyes.
*
Over the next two weeks he sees Ryan at least half a dozen times. Sometimes Jon's there and they have to stop, make conversation. More often than not, it's just Spencer. And each time, it's still a little shock. Yesterday, Ryan was in honest-to-god arm garters, like he was a fucking riverboat gambler. Jesus. Ryan had lifted a hesitant hand, waving, and Spencer had pretended not to see him, ignoring the twist in his stomach as Ryan's face fell.
And as if that's not enough, he begins dreaming again. Only this time it's just a blur of images, new and old, over each other until he wakes unsettled.
Or hard.
Jon's whispering in his ear. It's something he's taken to doing with the last few months, telling Spencer in a quiet voice exactly what he wants to do to Spencer. How he wants to touch him, the sounds he wants to drag out of Spencer. What he expects in return. It turns Spencer on more than he cares to admit.
There's a hand on his chest, not Jon's. The fingers are too long, although still callused in similar places. Spencer thinks that it's a funny thing to notice in his dreams.
When he looks up, Ryan's there. A younger version of him: past-Ryan. Those stupid curls tumble against his cheeks, over his forehead. The hand slides over Spencer's chest to curl around his neck. Long, slender fingers twist through the hair at his nape, tugging just a little.
Ryan's image shifts into the current version with its silly short haircut, but the eyes are still the same. Sharp now, staring straight at Spencer.
Jon whispers something particularly dirty and Spencer can't help the way his body arches at the image. Skin slides along skin and he realizes Ryan's not wearing a shirt. The line of his hips draws Spencer's hands. They feel sharp under his palms and he watches as his fingers dig into the skin. Possessive. Real.
Stepping in closer, Ryan breathes Spencer's name. Behind him, Spencer can feel Jon, hard and ready. His own body aches with so much need he can barely stand it. It's hard to breathe. Ryan's cock slides against his and heat flares through him.
Eyes snapping open, Spencer takes a huge gasp of air. His body feels hot everywhere and he's about two seconds away from coming all over himself. Jon snuffles in his sleep, instinctively settling in closer and running a hand over Spencer's hip. Normally it's a comfort, but now it doesn't help at all. With the dream images so fresh in his mind, Spencer's hips jerk and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning out loud.
Jon's hand slips further down, fingers trailing over the top of his thigh. His fingers slide inward, curling around his inner thigh, the knuckles brushing lightly under Spencer's balls. Already so on edge, that's all it takes. He comes right then, with no one touching his dick. Jon's hand tucks itself around Spencer's thigh, effectively trapping him in place.
After he's calmed down, Spencer uses the corner of the sheet to wipe himself off. He spends the rest of the night, staring at the wall in the darkness. The sun is starting to peak over windowsill when he finally falls back into a dreamless sleep.
*
It's the start of a vicious cycle for which Spencer only has himself to blame. More often than not, he'll refrain from joining Jon and Alex when they set out for the evening, but he never stops Jon from going out.
The dreams keep coming, not every night, but often enough that it becomes obvious he's not sleeping very well. Jon tries on occasion to get Spencer to talk, but he always shuts that down before it can go anywhere. His temper is starting to fray, and Jon's getting frustrated with their lack of communication. Well, Spencer's lack of communication.
*
"Ryan says that--"
Spencer slams his book shut and Jon stops abruptly, frowning. “Spence?”
Spencer is really tired of hearing about Ryan. He's tired of having Ryan pushed into his face, over and over. It's his own doing, but still. He's tired of trying to not think about Ryan; tired of dreaming about things he shouldn't want and can't have; tired of being confused all the time; tired of being jealous but never really knowing exactly who he's most jealous of.
Spencer's just tired of it all, which is why he says the stupidest thing ever. "I'm beginning to think you'd rather be with Ryan than me."
Jon looks like he's been hit with a Mack truck. "What!?"
It's like he can't stop his mouth from moving. "Seriously, you seem overly-invested in what Ryan thinks. And you spend all your time with him." He kind of wants to laugh hysterically at that, seeing as how he's done nothing but shove Jon at Ryan for a while now.
"Spence-what?" Jon's jaw is tighter than Spencer's ever seen it. "What the hell are you doing, Spencer?"
He keeps pushing. "Yeah, I don't think I want to be second best. Maybe-maybe you should leave."
Jon continues to stare at him, eyes searching Spencer's face. After a few minutes-Spencer keeps his face as smooth as possible-Jon deflates. "Maybe I should," he responds quietly.
He walks out of the room and Spencer doesn't call him back. He can hear the shuffle of Jon getting his stuff together, the pause in footsteps when he walks past the kitchen again. Spencer keeps his back toward the entrance, silent, and a moment later there's the slam of the front door.
Spencer cradles his head in his hands and tries to keep himself from shattering into a million pieces.
*
Spencer's in the back of the library, head down, trying to figure out it's a 5 or an 8 on the paper in his hands, when he rounds a corner. Looking up, he stumbles to a stop.
Ryan and Jon are seated on one of the small couches. Jon looks exhausted, his head resting on Ryan's shoulder. From where he's standing, Spencer can see the dark circles under his eyes. He can see the way Ryan's fingers are resting on Jon's neck. Ryan's talking softly, head tilted down. Something flares in his stomach.
He doesn't know if he makes some kind of noise, or if he moves, but Ryan looks up at that moment. Startled recognition shifts to a glare and Spencer has to look away, but his gaze falls to Jon and that's not any better because his eyes are open now, staring at Spencer. There's sadness there, confusion, and Spencer can't stand it. Ryan opens his mouth to say something and Spencer does what he always does, he runs away.
*
Spencer's fucking tired.
He misses Jon horribly, the ache in his heart and the twist in his stomach a near constant presence. It takes forever to fall asleep now, without him in bed. And when Spencer does get to sleep, the dreams won't leave him alone. He wakes twisted and hot in his sheets, gasping for breath. Spencer can't remember the last time he got a good solid six hours of sleep. Dragging his keys out his pocket, he snorts. Probably when he was five.
So yeah, Spencer's fucking tired. It's the only reason he completely misses the figure standing in front of his door until he gets there.
After a second's pause, he continues toward the door, ignoring Ryan. His hand is lifted to unlock the door when Ryan stops him, a hand on his wrist.
"Spencer."
Frustration is evident in the tone of his voice, the tension in the fingers wrapped around Spencer's wrist. His hand is cool and dry and Spencer remembers that Ryan never seems to sweat. Never has really. The grip tightens and he draws his gaze away from those long fingers up to Ryan's face. It's a mistake.
Ryan is way too close.
He's taller than Jon, nearly as tall as Spencer, putting him at eye level. It wouldn't take much, Spencer thinks, to lean over and kiss him. He jerks back at the thought and Ryan reaches out, other hand to his arm. The simple touch has him stumbling back against the door. Ryan just follows him.
He's breathing too fast and he can't stop himself from looking again, can't stop himself from remembering back at sixteen, sheets sliding against skin. He wonders vaguely if Ryan still makes those sounds. It's not until Ryan's soft oh that Spencer realizes he's been staring at Ryan's mouth for the last few seconds. He jerks his gaze up, heat blazing across his cheeks.
"Oh," Ryan repeats, dropping his own gaze to Spencer's mouth. His browns draw together. "But Jon--"
"Jon's yours now." Spencer's tone is abrupt and he turns his back to Ryan, fumbling with his keys. His hands are shaking and he grips them tighter.
There's a line of heat along his side that means Ryan's stepped in and he can't help the shiver that runs through him when Ryan says his name again, softer. The sound brushes warmly against his ear and Spencer can feel panic start to set in. The key finally slides into the lock and he nearly crumples with relief.
The last thing he sees before the door slams shut is Ryan's face, confused but thoughtful. Back to the door, he slides down until he hits the floor. Ryan finally leaves a few minutes later, footsteps tapping across the floor, and Spencer doesn't move for a very long time.
*
Over the next few months it seems that everywhere he goes, Ryan and Jon seem to be there. Greenwald's been distracted by Z, but manages to still send Spencer random, strange text messages. He ignores them and after a while they stop coming. Spencer pretends he doesn't care.
He corners Ryan in the bar one night, after watching him flirt with Z for hours, barely managing to get out a warning about messing with Jon's feelings when Ryan laughs. It's not a pretty sound, harsh and accusing. His response isn't pretty either when he looks at Spencer and says, "You have no room to talk."
He walks off without pause and Spencer spends a good chunk of the evening drinking himself into oblivion.
*
After a while, they settle into some semblance of normality. Spencer can say hello without wanting to punch something. Jon's eyes still hold a bit of sadness, but it's lessened. Ryan still watches him like he's waiting to catch Spencer up in something, but he smiles more now.
Spencer hates that he knows these things, but it's better than nothing.
He's passing by in the quad after finishing his last Physics final ever-which is weird to even contemplate-when a hand on his shoulder stops him. "Hey, Spence."
It's Jon. Ryan is sitting cross-legged on a nearby bench, guitar in his hands.
"You look a little tired, finals?" Spencer doesn't want to do this right now, this exchanging of pleasantries, but he manages a smile.
"Yeah, kind of strange, isn't it? Soon we'll have to actually get real jobs and shit." Jon smiles. He's about to say something when Ryan starts playing a tune on his guitar. Spencer whips his head around, paling.
"Spencer?" Jon's voice sounds far away. Ryan looks up then, eyes narrowing at the look on Spencer's face. He plays a couple more measures, like he's challenging Spencer. Ryan still likes to push, even months later. Even after he's got what Spencer wants.
There's concern in Jon's voice, worry when he says Spencer's name again. This time with a hand on his arm. Ryan just continues to play, holding Spencer's gaze. It's only when there's something like triumph on Ryan's face that Spencer pulls away, turns to leave without another word.
*
A couple days later, there's a package in the mail. It has no return address which makes Spencer frown. His name is scrawled across the envelope in handwriting he recognizes instantly. A knot in his stomach tightens as he makes his way upstairs. He methodically puts his stuff away, deliberately ignoring the package on the table.
After doing everything he can to put off opening the package, he finally tears it open. Inside is a CD with the words Northern Downpour written in a slanted, messy hand. It takes nearly an hour for him to get up the nerve to put it in, to listen as that familiar music fills his apartment.
He should have expected the lyrics-Ryan's a writer, he loves the way words twist and bend to his will-but it still shocks him. Jon's voice is soft, hesitant. His tongue trips over some of the words, but gain confidence as the song continues.
He doesn't know what it is that boils through his veins, anger or fear. But as the song starts over again, he grabs his keys and slams out of his apartment. The words follow him anyway.
-missed your skin when you were east- ]
*
"What the hell are you doing?"
Ryan's face is startled as Spencer pushes past him. The door closes softly and Spencer spins around. Ryan doesn't say anything and Spencer moves up into his space, slamming a hand against the door near Ryan's head. There's still no response.
"Tell me." Spencer pretends there isn't an air of desperation in his question, but he can see the truth in Ryan's eyes. "Why are you doing this? You've got Jon, what else do you want?"
Ryan's still doesn't answer.
"Damn it, why do you insist on pushing at me?" He's yelling now, can barely see anything but months of frustration and fear.
"Spencer!" Jon's voice is sharp, cutting through the haze, the buzz in Spencer's head. He looks down.
His hand is wrapped around Ryan's throat. When he raises his gaze, there's a sliver of fear in amber eyes. For a split second, another scared face superimposes itself over Ryan's and Spencer stumbles back in shock. His knees give out and he lands hard on the floor, shaking and muttering sorrysorrysorry, over and over again.
Warm arms wrap around him, familiar and missed. He can feel Ryan’s long fingers cupping the back of his head, threaded through his hair. Spencer sobs once, face tucked against Ryan’s neck. Jon’s whispering nonsense in his ear, trying to soothe him. They huddle around him, on the floor, and Spencer just gives in.
Jon and Ryan just hold him tighter, catching him as he finally lets go.
to wake
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
[to move: a step back]
The band on stage isn't bad, but Spencer's not really listening. The alcohol in his system is buzzing under his skin. Jon's talking to Greenwald-Spencer hears his name- but there's this guy standing behind them at the bar. Spencer's staring hard at the back of this guy's head over Jon's shoulder and not really paying attention. There's something really familiar-
"Drink up, birthday boy!" A shot lands in front him. "You only turn 21 once!"
Jon and Alex are holding similar shots and on the count of three, they all see who can finish first. A cheer goes up from the people standing nearby and Spencer forgets about the guy at the bar.
Later, he's making his way back to the table from the bar, three beers in his hand, when someone knocks into his shoulder on the edge of the dance floor. There’s a muttered apology in a deep, bland voice and Spencer’s head jerks up. The stranger disappears into the crowd before Spencer can get a decent look.
Couldn’t be. He shakes it off, stumbling a little from the effects of the alcohol.
“Yo, Smith. Earth to Spence, come on.” He whips his head back around and meets Alex’s gaze “You’re wasting premium beer time by space-cadetting.” Greenwald’s kind of a douche, but Spencer likes him enough to set his beer down with a pleasant fuck you, very much. He gets a grin in response.
Twisting his neck, he takes another glance around the club. Jon slides a hand over his hip as he grabs his own beer and Spencer turns his attention back to their table. He leans into Jon's touch, just a little.
*
"Fuck, Jon-"
His voice breaks as the head of his cock hits the back of Jon's throat. He can feel the prickle of the building's brick wall through his shirt, the sweat-damp skin on the back of Jon's neck. His fingers tighten in Jon's hair, but they slide through the shortened strands. Stupid hot haircut, Spencer manages to think before Jon swallows around him. His head knocks back against the wall, eyes closing. He's so close already.
"Shit! Sorry!"
Spencer's eyes snap open. The guy stumbles back out of the alley, all gangly arms and legs. There's a moment, when the light falls across his face, when Spencer gets a perfect look. His vision goes a little blurry around the edges as he comes, but it doesn't matter. He'd know those amber-colored eyes anywhere. Any time.
Ryan.
*
It’s not like he hadn't thought about it before. He'd found Jon, right?
Spencer spends the next two days in bed, claiming a hangover. While Greenwald just sends him increasingly tawdry text messages, Jon brings him water and slides into bed behind him. He never asks out loud, but a question is there each time he touches Spencer.
*
Greenwald slams through the door and flops on the couch. “I am in love. I’ve found my soul mate, Smith. And they dress like my grandpa.”
“Do they bathe?” Spencer responds, wrinkling his nose. “Because I can smell the grease build-up on your hair from a mile away.” Or at least a few feet, as he’s sitting on the other side of the couch.
Alex arches an eyebrow. “We can’t all have lovely, shiny locks of a maiden, Spencersmith. The world just isn’t fair like that.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer mutters in response, “Water. Soap. I hear it does wonders for your attraction to the opposite sex."
"Wait-" Spencer replays Alex’s earlier words. "Grandpa? When did you start batting for the other team?" Alex's love of the ladies is a well-known fact by the greater population of Chicago.
"Whatever." A hand wave. "We'll be hetero life-mates, Smith. We are going to make lovely, musical babies together." He pauses, then adds, "With awesome fashion sense."
Spencer snorts, changing the channel. "That's going to be really difficult, what with the no dick rule you have." He hits a channel showing Family Guy and Alex makes a little 'stop' noise. "Also, you can't have babies, Alex, no matter how much you'd like to."
"So negative, Smith. That beard has made you surly."
"Shut the fuck up, this beard is awesome." It's been three weeks since his birthday and something that started out as being too lazy to get out of bed and shave turned into something he really likes. He scritches his cheek. "Jon likes it."
Alex shoves off the couch. "I don't need to hear about your kinky sex life, Smith, I have to go make a plan." He slams the door on the way out, less than fifteen minutes after he arrived. A few minutes later Jon wanders out of the hallway, yawning and running a hand over his sleep-mussed hair. "Whassat Alex?"
Spencer nods, taking a moment to take in the way Jon's boxer hang low on his hips. Jon's been working out a lot more lately, dragging Spencer off to the gym. Spencer's appreciating the view and Jon finally notices the way Spencer's looking at him. He wanders over to the couch, pushing him down into the cushions as he slides his hands along Spencer's sides, underneath his shirt.
"We really need to start locking the door," Spencer mutters as Jon licks over his neck.
"We do," Jon replies, biting down softly just under Spencer's ear. "I'm pretty sure he managed to get a hold of a key somehow."
Spencer thrusts his hips up a little and Jon's breath catches. "That's not really very reassuring, Jon."
"Let's stop talking about Alex now, okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer, sliding his mouth over Spencer's.
*
It's not until he's halfway through the door and sees the that the coffee shop is near to full that Spencer remembers it's open mic night. The corner in the back that's the designated stage area is empty at the moment, but there's an acoustic propped up against the stool, old but obviously well-loved.
He considers turning around and heading back home, but through the crowd he spots Jon and heads over. He's only a couple steps away when he realizes that Jon's deep in conversation with someone. Someone wearing the most hideous paisley shirt Spencer's ever seen.
With pinstripe slacks.
"Fashion king of my dreams." Alex flings an arm around paisley shirt's shoulder. "Have you decided upon an answer to my proposal? Hey, Smith." He throws a chin nod in Spencer's direction and everyone turns around.
The thing is Spencer's spent the last few weeks doing a pretty good job of convincing himself that he'd been mistaken in the alley, that it hadn't been Ryan. Only as he stands here now, does he realize how wrong he was.
"Spence!" Jon steps in, sliding a finger into a belt loop and tugging him in closer. "You gotta met Ryan." Spencer can't seem to make his mouth move. Ryan's got a smile starting when he gets a good look at Spencer then his eyes get comically wide and he blushes. Spencer would laugh if he wasn't so busy freaking out inside.
"This is Ryan. Ryan, Spencer." He doesn't move until Ryan extends a hand to shake. It's the same hand, fingers long and bony, cool against his palm.
"Have we met? Not like, you know-that time, but before?" Ryan drops his chin. Spencer's suddenly remembers the same movement from a six-year old boy, and his heart physically aches.
"No," he says brusquely and Ryan's head snaps up to meet his.
"Are you sure? You just seem really fami-"
"We've never met." Spencer interrupts. He's got to get out of here, he can barely breathe. Jon's looking at him a little strangely, about to ask what's going on, Spencer knows. "I've gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Ry. Ryan." Fuck. "Greenwald, Jon."
He's halfway to the door before Jon catches up, a hand on his arm. "Spence? Everything okay?"
Alex is busy whispering into his ear, but Ryan keeps glancing over at the two of them. Spencer can feel his eyes and he just wants to get out of here. He smiles at Jon and tells him, "It's nothing, I promise. I've just, you know, got a lot stuff to do for classes. Last year and all that." Jon just nods, not entirely convinced. Biting his lip, Jon asks, "What did Ryan mean about 'not that time'?"
Blushing, Spencer tells Jon, "He, ah, kinda walked into the alley during-you know, that night."
Jon's eyebrows raise, "No shit." He looks back over his shoulder. "Think he knows it was me with you?" Alex waves, saying something to Ryan that makes him shift his gaze to Jon.
"Well, I'm pretty sure he does now. Listen-" Jon turns back to him. "I've gotta go. I'll see you later, okay?"
He can feel Ryan's eyes on him as he leaves, but he doesn't look back.
*
Spencer doesn't know exactly how long he sits there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the bottle in his hand. The pills rattle and he realizes that his hand is shaking.
Seeing Jon, finding him, had been a coincidence for Spencer. A weird happenstance between some figment of Spencer's youth and reality. But Ryan-
Ryan and Jon means something else all together. Something more than coincidence, something bigger. Ryan and Jon mean that maybe Bren-- Spencer shoves that thought away and settles on his side, pillow under his head. Reaching out, he sets the pill bottle on the night stand, unopened. His hands aren't shaking anymore, but he figures it's just because he feels a little numb now.
Turning off the lamp, the room goes dark. Light floats in from streetlights. It catches the edge of the bed, illuminating the bottle's label enough that Spencer can read his name with Dr. Blackinton's underneath it. Spencer stares at it until his vision blurs.
So yeah, it means something bigger, but he has no idea what.
Spencer's floating in that space between asleep and awake when Jon comes to bed later that night. He curls into Jon's warmth, sighing as arms wrap around him. There's a rumble as Jon murmurs his name, but Spencer's already slipping further into sleep. The slide of Jon's fingers around the back of his neck is the last thing he remembers.
He doesn't dream.
*
cum to the 'bux, bearded lady. there's a frou frou coffee product with your name on it. also, muse-ic.
Spencer rolls his eyes. Greenwald is still a strange, strange dude. He's halfway through typing sorry, i have to take a shower. cleanliness is next to godliness, you know when his phone rings.
There's a lot of noise in the background. "Hey, Jon."
"You should head over. Ryan's going to sing his new song, the one about waves of wooden legs." He says that like it's something Spencer should know. "Or something. I don't know, really, it's a pretty odd song." In the background, Spencer can hear someone shout your face is pretty odd. Greenwald. So they're both at the cafe. With Ryan.
Spencer ignores the flip in his stomach to ask, "So has Greenwald succeeded in seducing his hetero life-mate yet?" More laughter, distant but familiar. Jon snorts. "Of course not. Actually," he raises his voice. "Greenwald's in love with Ryan's friend, Z. For Elizabeth," he clarifies once again, like Spencer has any clue. He didn't realize that Jon was spending so much time with Ryan. The flip in his stomach turns over double time.
His thoughts are interrupted by an oomph, Jon's muttered 'fucker', and the clatter of a phone hitting the ground. Jon's back a moment later, apologizing.
"I've got a lab report due tomorrow." He does, but it's already typed up and ready to turn in. "So I think I'll stay in tonight." He can hear Jon sigh even over all the noise in the background.
"Spence-"
"I'll see you later, okay?" Jon's gotten a little too good at reading his voice. "You can tell me about-about waves of wooden legs or whatever the hell he's singing about when you come home." There's another sigh and Jon murmurs fine. Spencer's about to hang up when Jon states quietly, "You know I love you, right?"
Spencer swallows hard. It's not something they say very often, not something Spencer thinks about a lot. But he does know, he does. In the noisy background, he hears Ryan greet Alex.
Just as quietly, he returns, "I love you, too." He wishes it sounded more like a promise.
*
He's busy thinking about the discussion he has to lead in his Ethics in Science class next week so he doesn't notice that there's a body on the couch until he's practically sitting on it. He nearly falls on his ass trying to move back when he realizes who it is.
"What the hell?"
Ryan's eyes are startled and wide as he stares back at Spencer. It looks like he's about to respond when Alex wanders back into the living room and Spencer sputters, "What the fuck, Greenwald? You're like an apartment ninja. I swear to God. "
"You love it, don't deny it." Rolling his eyes, Spencer stands up. Ryan chooses that moment to stand and suddenly they're way to close. Spencer can see the little flecks of green in Ryan's eyes. He's got a ridiculous bowl cut, reminiscent of the one he'd had at seven-Spencer cuts off that train of thought and moves past the two of them.
He hollers over his shoulder, "Don't eat all the food, jackass." It sounds pretty light-hearted to him, enough to fool them. He's got homework to do anyway. Maybe his heart will stop beating so hard if he concentrates on something else.
*
A book hits the floor just as Spencer rounds the book stack, missing his toes by a narrow margin.
"Shit," someone mutters. "Sorry." Spencer recognizes the hand that reaches out to pick it up even before Ryan's eyes meet his and he offers a quiet, "Hey."
Spencer takes in the mess of books and papers spread out on the table. There's a pen being spun round and round, the only outward sign of nervousness. The fingers are ink-stained, the nails bitten-Kingston's reading over his shoulder. Reaching out, he runs a finger along a line of ink that's made its way down the side of Ryan's pinky finger. There's teasing and laughter-Spencer shakes himself out of the memory to respond with a nod, "Ryan."
There's surprise in his eyes. "I wasn't sure if you actually knew my name," he mumbles and Spencer nearly laughs. Jon's done nothing but talk about Ryan for the last two weeks. Ryan this, Ryan that, Ryan plays the guitar too, Ryan is an amazing writer. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Until Spencer want to yell I know, I've always known that, but he holds his tongue and lets Jon continue on.
To change the subject, Spencer taps a finger over one of the many books littering the table, a question.
"Grad student, American Lit," Ryan responds. It's so Ryan, that Spencer can't help the small smile that tugs at his mouth. Ryan says, tone a little defensive, "I like to read."
"I remember," Spencer murmurs. Ryan's gaze snaps back to his and Spencer can feel a blush making its way across his cheeks. He turns to go. "Anyway, I've gotta go find-"
"Is there something I've done to make you not like me?" Spencer pauses as Ryan continues, "I mean, I'm kind of lost in my own head a lot-" Spencer nearly laughs again, looking back over his shoulder. "So if I said anything-" Ryan trails off, looking a little lost. "I'm sorry?"
Before Spencer can respond, Ryan's continuing on. "You seem so familiar, but I just can't seem to place why." Ryan's gaze is intent, searching. Spencer can't seem to look away. "Are you sure we've never met?" He watches Ryan's gaze turn inward, searching. Panic flutters in his chest and Spencer just mumbles out, "No. No, we've never--never met." No, you never saw me. Never touched me. I didn't ever exist to you, so how can I be familiar? It's getting a little hard for Spencer to breathe.
Something must show on his face because a second later, Ryan reaches out. At the first touch of his hand, Spencer flinches. Turning away, he hurries past the table and down an aisle. Ryan's startled, "Spencer!" trails behind him and he just keeps going until he's pushed passed the main doors. He's halfway across campus before his breath settles and his vision clears.
Ryan must not say anything to Jon because he doesn't bring it up. Spencer breathes a little easier as they get into bed. He falls asleep eventually, determinedly not thinking about amber eyes.
*
Over the next two weeks he sees Ryan at least half a dozen times. Sometimes Jon's there and they have to stop, make conversation. More often than not, it's just Spencer. And each time, it's still a little shock. Yesterday, Ryan was in honest-to-god arm garters, like he was a fucking riverboat gambler. Jesus. Ryan had lifted a hesitant hand, waving, and Spencer had pretended not to see him, ignoring the twist in his stomach as Ryan's face fell.
And as if that's not enough, he begins dreaming again. Only this time it's just a blur of images, new and old, over each other until he wakes unsettled.
Or hard.
Jon's whispering in his ear. It's something he's taken to doing with the last few months, telling Spencer in a quiet voice exactly what he wants to do to Spencer. How he wants to touch him, the sounds he wants to drag out of Spencer. What he expects in return. It turns Spencer on more than he cares to admit.
There's a hand on his chest, not Jon's. The fingers are too long, although still callused in similar places. Spencer thinks that it's a funny thing to notice in his dreams.
When he looks up, Ryan's there. A younger version of him: past-Ryan. Those stupid curls tumble against his cheeks, over his forehead. The hand slides over Spencer's chest to curl around his neck. Long, slender fingers twist through the hair at his nape, tugging just a little.
Ryan's image shifts into the current version with its silly short haircut, but the eyes are still the same. Sharp now, staring straight at Spencer.
Jon whispers something particularly dirty and Spencer can't help the way his body arches at the image. Skin slides along skin and he realizes Ryan's not wearing a shirt. The line of his hips draws Spencer's hands. They feel sharp under his palms and he watches as his fingers dig into the skin. Possessive. Real.
Stepping in closer, Ryan breathes Spencer's name. Behind him, Spencer can feel Jon, hard and ready. His own body aches with so much need he can barely stand it. It's hard to breathe. Ryan's cock slides against his and heat flares through him.
Eyes snapping open, Spencer takes a huge gasp of air. His body feels hot everywhere and he's about two seconds away from coming all over himself. Jon snuffles in his sleep, instinctively settling in closer and running a hand over Spencer's hip. Normally it's a comfort, but now it doesn't help at all. With the dream images so fresh in his mind, Spencer's hips jerk and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning out loud.
Jon's hand slips further down, fingers trailing over the top of his thigh. His fingers slide inward, curling around his inner thigh, the knuckles brushing lightly under Spencer's balls. Already so on edge, that's all it takes. He comes right then, with no one touching his dick. Jon's hand tucks itself around Spencer's thigh, effectively trapping him in place.
After he's calmed down, Spencer uses the corner of the sheet to wipe himself off. He spends the rest of the night, staring at the wall in the darkness. The sun is starting to peak over windowsill when he finally falls back into a dreamless sleep.
*
It's the start of a vicious cycle for which Spencer only has himself to blame. More often than not, he'll refrain from joining Jon and Alex when they set out for the evening, but he never stops Jon from going out.
The dreams keep coming, not every night, but often enough that it becomes obvious he's not sleeping very well. Jon tries on occasion to get Spencer to talk, but he always shuts that down before it can go anywhere. His temper is starting to fray, and Jon's getting frustrated with their lack of communication. Well, Spencer's lack of communication.
*
"Ryan says that--"
Spencer slams his book shut and Jon stops abruptly, frowning. “Spence?”
Spencer is really tired of hearing about Ryan. He's tired of having Ryan pushed into his face, over and over. It's his own doing, but still. He's tired of trying to not think about Ryan; tired of dreaming about things he shouldn't want and can't have; tired of being confused all the time; tired of being jealous but never really knowing exactly who he's most jealous of.
Spencer's just tired of it all, which is why he says the stupidest thing ever. "I'm beginning to think you'd rather be with Ryan than me."
Jon looks like he's been hit with a Mack truck. "What!?"
It's like he can't stop his mouth from moving. "Seriously, you seem overly-invested in what Ryan thinks. And you spend all your time with him." He kind of wants to laugh hysterically at that, seeing as how he's done nothing but shove Jon at Ryan for a while now.
"Spence-what?" Jon's jaw is tighter than Spencer's ever seen it. "What the hell are you doing, Spencer?"
He keeps pushing. "Yeah, I don't think I want to be second best. Maybe-maybe you should leave."
Jon continues to stare at him, eyes searching Spencer's face. After a few minutes-Spencer keeps his face as smooth as possible-Jon deflates. "Maybe I should," he responds quietly.
He walks out of the room and Spencer doesn't call him back. He can hear the shuffle of Jon getting his stuff together, the pause in footsteps when he walks past the kitchen again. Spencer keeps his back toward the entrance, silent, and a moment later there's the slam of the front door.
Spencer cradles his head in his hands and tries to keep himself from shattering into a million pieces.
*
Spencer's in the back of the library, head down, trying to figure out it's a 5 or an 8 on the paper in his hands, when he rounds a corner. Looking up, he stumbles to a stop.
Ryan and Jon are seated on one of the small couches. Jon looks exhausted, his head resting on Ryan's shoulder. From where he's standing, Spencer can see the dark circles under his eyes. He can see the way Ryan's fingers are resting on Jon's neck. Ryan's talking softly, head tilted down. Something flares in his stomach.
He doesn't know if he makes some kind of noise, or if he moves, but Ryan looks up at that moment. Startled recognition shifts to a glare and Spencer has to look away, but his gaze falls to Jon and that's not any better because his eyes are open now, staring at Spencer. There's sadness there, confusion, and Spencer can't stand it. Ryan opens his mouth to say something and Spencer does what he always does, he runs away.
*
Spencer's fucking tired.
He misses Jon horribly, the ache in his heart and the twist in his stomach a near constant presence. It takes forever to fall asleep now, without him in bed. And when Spencer does get to sleep, the dreams won't leave him alone. He wakes twisted and hot in his sheets, gasping for breath. Spencer can't remember the last time he got a good solid six hours of sleep. Dragging his keys out his pocket, he snorts. Probably when he was five.
So yeah, Spencer's fucking tired. It's the only reason he completely misses the figure standing in front of his door until he gets there.
After a second's pause, he continues toward the door, ignoring Ryan. His hand is lifted to unlock the door when Ryan stops him, a hand on his wrist.
"Spencer."
Frustration is evident in the tone of his voice, the tension in the fingers wrapped around Spencer's wrist. His hand is cool and dry and Spencer remembers that Ryan never seems to sweat. Never has really. The grip tightens and he draws his gaze away from those long fingers up to Ryan's face. It's a mistake.
Ryan is way too close.
He's taller than Jon, nearly as tall as Spencer, putting him at eye level. It wouldn't take much, Spencer thinks, to lean over and kiss him. He jerks back at the thought and Ryan reaches out, other hand to his arm. The simple touch has him stumbling back against the door. Ryan just follows him.
He's breathing too fast and he can't stop himself from looking again, can't stop himself from remembering back at sixteen, sheets sliding against skin. He wonders vaguely if Ryan still makes those sounds. It's not until Ryan's soft oh that Spencer realizes he's been staring at Ryan's mouth for the last few seconds. He jerks his gaze up, heat blazing across his cheeks.
"Oh," Ryan repeats, dropping his own gaze to Spencer's mouth. His browns draw together. "But Jon--"
"Jon's yours now." Spencer's tone is abrupt and he turns his back to Ryan, fumbling with his keys. His hands are shaking and he grips them tighter.
There's a line of heat along his side that means Ryan's stepped in and he can't help the shiver that runs through him when Ryan says his name again, softer. The sound brushes warmly against his ear and Spencer can feel panic start to set in. The key finally slides into the lock and he nearly crumples with relief.
The last thing he sees before the door slams shut is Ryan's face, confused but thoughtful. Back to the door, he slides down until he hits the floor. Ryan finally leaves a few minutes later, footsteps tapping across the floor, and Spencer doesn't move for a very long time.
*
Over the next few months it seems that everywhere he goes, Ryan and Jon seem to be there. Greenwald's been distracted by Z, but manages to still send Spencer random, strange text messages. He ignores them and after a while they stop coming. Spencer pretends he doesn't care.
He corners Ryan in the bar one night, after watching him flirt with Z for hours, barely managing to get out a warning about messing with Jon's feelings when Ryan laughs. It's not a pretty sound, harsh and accusing. His response isn't pretty either when he looks at Spencer and says, "You have no room to talk."
He walks off without pause and Spencer spends a good chunk of the evening drinking himself into oblivion.
*
After a while, they settle into some semblance of normality. Spencer can say hello without wanting to punch something. Jon's eyes still hold a bit of sadness, but it's lessened. Ryan still watches him like he's waiting to catch Spencer up in something, but he smiles more now.
Spencer hates that he knows these things, but it's better than nothing.
He's passing by in the quad after finishing his last Physics final ever-which is weird to even contemplate-when a hand on his shoulder stops him. "Hey, Spence."
It's Jon. Ryan is sitting cross-legged on a nearby bench, guitar in his hands.
"You look a little tired, finals?" Spencer doesn't want to do this right now, this exchanging of pleasantries, but he manages a smile.
"Yeah, kind of strange, isn't it? Soon we'll have to actually get real jobs and shit." Jon smiles. He's about to say something when Ryan starts playing a tune on his guitar. Spencer whips his head around, paling.
"Spencer?" Jon's voice sounds far away. Ryan looks up then, eyes narrowing at the look on Spencer's face. He plays a couple more measures, like he's challenging Spencer. Ryan still likes to push, even months later. Even after he's got what Spencer wants.
There's concern in Jon's voice, worry when he says Spencer's name again. This time with a hand on his arm. Ryan just continues to play, holding Spencer's gaze. It's only when there's something like triumph on Ryan's face that Spencer pulls away, turns to leave without another word.
*
A couple days later, there's a package in the mail. It has no return address which makes Spencer frown. His name is scrawled across the envelope in handwriting he recognizes instantly. A knot in his stomach tightens as he makes his way upstairs. He methodically puts his stuff away, deliberately ignoring the package on the table.
After doing everything he can to put off opening the package, he finally tears it open. Inside is a CD with the words Northern Downpour written in a slanted, messy hand. It takes nearly an hour for him to get up the nerve to put it in, to listen as that familiar music fills his apartment.
He should have expected the lyrics-Ryan's a writer, he loves the way words twist and bend to his will-but it still shocks him. Jon's voice is soft, hesitant. His tongue trips over some of the words, but gain confidence as the song continues.
He doesn't know what it is that boils through his veins, anger or fear. But as the song starts over again, he grabs his keys and slams out of his apartment. The words follow him anyway.
-missed your skin when you were east- ]
*
"What the hell are you doing?"
Ryan's face is startled as Spencer pushes past him. The door closes softly and Spencer spins around. Ryan doesn't say anything and Spencer moves up into his space, slamming a hand against the door near Ryan's head. There's still no response.
"Tell me." Spencer pretends there isn't an air of desperation in his question, but he can see the truth in Ryan's eyes. "Why are you doing this? You've got Jon, what else do you want?"
Ryan's still doesn't answer.
"Damn it, why do you insist on pushing at me?" He's yelling now, can barely see anything but months of frustration and fear.
"Spencer!" Jon's voice is sharp, cutting through the haze, the buzz in Spencer's head. He looks down.
His hand is wrapped around Ryan's throat. When he raises his gaze, there's a sliver of fear in amber eyes. For a split second, another scared face superimposes itself over Ryan's and Spencer stumbles back in shock. His knees give out and he lands hard on the floor, shaking and muttering sorrysorrysorry, over and over again.
Warm arms wrap around him, familiar and missed. He can feel Ryan’s long fingers cupping the back of his head, threaded through his hair. Spencer sobs once, face tucked against Ryan’s neck. Jon’s whispering nonsense in his ear, trying to soothe him. They huddle around him, on the floor, and Spencer just gives in.
Jon and Ryan just hold him tighter, catching him as he finally lets go.
to wake