a sensation of falling (eventual gsf) - part 2
master post | to remember, i | to remember, ii | to dream | to move, i | to move, ii | to wake | fanart | fanmix
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
[to remember: age sixteen]
On Ryan's birthday, Colleen steals Ryan's heart right out from under Kingston.
Spencer watches with near-vicious glee as he slips from Kingston's grasp, literally, as Ryan follows her to the dance floor. Her smile is bright and Ryan's cheeks flush as he stumbles over his own feet. She laughs and shows him how to do it right. It's not smooth, or pretty, but Spencer sees the second Ryan falls in love. He ignores the dip in his stomach and turns to goad Kingston. Only the look on his face makes Spencer's stomach drop even further and he doesn't say anything, just watches Kingston watch Ryan.
Two weeks later, Kingston departs for Paris.
His letters are sporadic at best, but Ryan keeps them all. Spencer does his best not to think about the sadness in Ryan's eyes as he tucks them into the back of Elegy, the way his fingers trail over the spine of the book as he slides it back on the shelf.
"Jesus, where is ever-oooph!"
Spencer bounces off a wall of solid muscle. Landing on his ass, he glances up to see a rather large guy striding past him as though nothing happened. Which, well, once again Spencer's reminded of how little he actually impacts these dreamscapes. Before he can let that thought get to him, he hears Brendon's voice.
There's a plaintive whine to it as Brendon comes barreling around the corner. "But Fitzzzzz, you were made for piggyback rides! Come on!" He makes a flying leap and Spencer flinches. A startled yelp has him looking back up, only to see 'Fitz' holding Brendon upside down. The look on Brendon's face makes Spencer laugh out loud.
"Um, hello. Hi. Hi there, Audrey."
Brendon says it with as much aplomb as one can while being in his current position. Audrey raises one eyebrow and continues past them without responding. Brendon's face falls Spencer sticks his foot out. Unsurprisingly enough, she steps over it and Spencer mutters, "Stuck up much?" Followed by, "I don't understand what you see in her, Bren."
Apparently Fitz agrees, a frown marring his thick brow. A murmur of words fall from his mouth, guttural and incomprehensible until Brendon crows, "Ooh, Fitz. Fitz, you should teach me some German. Maybe a couple of curse words--" Brendon's voice fades as he's carried away.
Brendon adores Fitz Halleberg, and Spencer can't say much. The guy is amazing. He always knows where Brendon's glasses are, he lets Brendon climb all over him (despite the weary, put-upon sighs), and Brendon's never late for practice or performances now. And most importantly though, when Brendon's been snubbed by Audrey again and again, Fitz distracts him.
*
And while Brendon just seems to be discovering the opposite sex, things are getting serious with Jon and Cassandra. So serious, in fact, that Spencer wakes up one morning in shock.
Jon proposed.
Two days later, Spencer's in the kitchen, just standing in front of the refrigerator. Jon's voice keeps choosing the most inopportune times to float through his head, and it's not until the hand lands on his shoulder that he realizes his mom is talking to him.
"Spence, honey, are you okay?" Concern laces the curiosity in her voice and Spencer jerks open the fridge door with a muttered, "Fine, Mom."
He's not really hungry, but he's got the damn door open and she'll definitely ask more questions if he doesn't pick something so he grabs a container off the top shelf. It's not until he's closed the door that he looks at what's he picked up. Yogurt. And here it comes--.
"Spencer James Smith." She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. "Really?"
Spencer glares and defiantly rips the top off. Grabbing a spoon, he shovels a big scoop into his mouth. The coolness hits his tongue, followed quickly by slimy texture and oh, yeah, he hates yogurt. He manages to swallow.
His mom just watches and he really hates the slightly amused look on her face. (Seriously, it's like his life is one big joke to her. He wouldn't be surprised really.) She moves forward, snatching the container out his hands. Spencer tries not to gag as she takes a really big bite. Pointing the empty spoon at him, she says, "Sit."
Spencer sighs loudly."Mo-"
"Sit." The tone brooks no argument, so he takes a seat at the table. "And quit rolling your eyes at everything I say."
"Mom-"
"Spencer James Smith-" Shit, full name twice in less that ten minutes. "I don't appreciate the fact that you think I'm stupid." He opens his mouth to apologize, but she continues before he can get anything out. "Now. I know something's bothering you." Spencer looks down at the table, away from her concerned gaze.
"You're not sleeping well, are you?" That makes his head jerk up in surprise. "Your bed's too neat." She smiles at the blush that starts across his cheeks. "Normally, your sheets are all over the place. Which-" she gives him a look, "-you really need to clean your room, mister." She waves a hand when he opens his mouth to protest. "Anyway. That's not the issue here." She gives him that look, the one that always makes him want to confess every bad thing, every bad thought he has. He looks away again.
"Spence, honey, what is it?" She asks softly. "What's bothering you? You know you can tell me."
Well, that's not true, is it? A little voice in his head whispers.
But she's right, Jon's proposal hasthrown him. He just knows that there's no way he can really explain what the problem is when he's not quite sure what it is himself.
"Is it a girl?" He's so startled at the question that he just shakes his head.
A second later, "Is it a boy?"
Spencer chokes, "Wha-what!? No. God, Mom." His face feels like it's on fire. "What the hell?
"That's a lot of protestation there, honey." She reaches out at pops him lightly on the side of his head, "And watch your language."
They sit there in silence while Spencer tries to make his heart stop pounding so loudly, until he finally mumbles, "Girls just aren't that interesting." Well, Cassandra and Colleen seem pretty cool, but he doesn't want to kiss them. Not like Ryan and Jon want to apparently. Jon proposed, for God's sake. He's only seventeen.
"Well, there's nothing wrong if you like boys-"
"I didn't say that!"
"Regardless, honey, there wouldn't be anything wrong with that.....I think you're too young to really know what you want, but you shouldn't ever be afraid to tell me or your father-" He blanches at the thought of having this conversation with his dad. "-something like that, Spencer James."
It'd be kind of hard to explain that he's got a crush on a boy. Who probably lives in a different century. Right. That'd go over great. Not that he does.
He sighs again, and watches as his mom continues eating his yogurt. The silence isn't as uncomfortable as it could be and for that, Spencer is grateful.
Cassandra practically glows as she walks to met Jon.
There's a ring of flowers settled around her head and her feet are bare. Jon's grin is blinding when he notices. Tom stands tall and proud next to Jon, and Spencer notes how much he's filled out in the last year. Nicholas and Will are grinning like fools beside Tom. Spencer kind of wishes he could stand up there with them, even though his stomach flips as Jon and Cassandra exchange their vows.
Will's father is noticeably absent.
~*~
[to remember: age seventeen]
Spencer wanders into the living room, newspaper in hand. He has to work really hard at not rolling his eyes at his parents, snuggled up on the couch like a couple of teenagers. With herculean effort he manages not to say anything until the CSI credits are rolling up the screen.
"So." They both turn their heads to look at him. They look like owls. God, his parents are so weird. He barely manages not to say that part out loud. This is really important and he needs to be convincing. His dad arches an eyebrow at him and Spencer realizes he's been standing there just staring at them. Clearing his throat, "Um, well-as you know, I'm old enough to start driving and so I think-"
Before he can finish, Jackie swings past him, snatching the paper out of his hand. Crystal's right on her heels.
"Hey!"
"Spence wants to take driver's ed classes." They flop on the couch beside their Mom, handing over the paper in her hand. Spencer glares at them and they just smile back, heads tilted at the same angle. Creepy. His whole family is creepy and weird.
"I don't know, honey." His mom's looking down at the ad he'd circled. "These classes are $295."
"But Mom-"
His father chimes in, "Can't you just wait to take the one that's offered through the school? A few more months won't hurt, you know."
Frustration's welling up, but he makes himself take a breath. He's prepared for this, knows his parents well enough that this would probably be the reaction. "Well, um, I could. But I know that those classes will have a whole lot more people in them. This way the classes are guaranteed to be smaller. More one on one time. More time behind the wheel learning how to be a good driver." He doesn't bring up the fact that most of his class has already been through Driver's Ed.
He takes a breath. "I mean, wouldn't you rather have someone who could give me a lot more focus rather than spreading their attention over two or three times the students?" Jackie's eyes narrow when their Mom nods her head, agreeing.
"And I'll pay you guys back, I promise." He throws in the ringer. "In fact, I applied at the Smoothie Hut yesterday, and the manager said I was pretty much a shoo-in for the job." Even his dad looks a little startled at that.
He watches the two of them have a silent conversation and can barely stop himself from a fist-pump of triumph when he sees the tiny dip of his father's chin. He manages to keep a straight face as his mom turns back towards him, pointing the newspaper at him. "All right, young man, you've got a deal. However-" she pops the twins on the tops of their heads. "It also includes baby-sitting detail. This Friday while your father and I go out with the Stumphs."
"Mom-"
His protests are instantly overridden with the twins' cries of dismay.
*
Driver's Ed classes are the most boring thing Spencer thinks he's ever done. And that includes last year, when Ryan decided that reading The Aeneid out loud was a good idea. In Latin no less.
In fact, the only good thing about Driver's Ed class is-
"Hey! Hey, Spencer!"
He turns at the sound of his name, coming face to face with dark eyes and a bright smile. "Hales, what's up?" Spencer is so cool, he's like ice. Then he ruins it by grinning like an idiot. If it wouldn't make him look even more ridiculous, he'd slap his forehead.
Haley's grin widens and she slips an arm around his. "You're on your way to work, right?" He nods. "How 'bout some company?"
Like he's going to say no. Sheesh. "Sure, but, uh, what about your mom?"
"Oh, I told her to pick me up from there in a little bit." It takes Spencer a few steps to realize that Haley planned time to walk with him, to spend time with him. He can feel his face heating up, but can't help the wave of happiness that floods through him.
*
He hears her laughter a half-second after the bell over the door rings and he can't help smiling. Turning around, he slides up to the register. Her friends are giggling off to the side, but he ignores them, placing his elbows on the counter, palms flat against the cool tile.
"So, Spencer Smith." Haley leans on the counter, mirroring him. Their fingertips brush. "Tomorrow's the big day. Graduation ceremony, parental embarrassment guaranteed, and little pieces of paper that say we're legal to drive. Sort of."
Spencer nods his head solemnly. "Yeah, yeah, never thought we'd make it this far. Especially after letting Sarah behind the wheel." They both grimace. Mr. Ritter's car still doesn't sound right.
"Sooo," Spencer tries not to stare at her mouth too hard as she drags out the word. Thankfully, she's looking down at the countertop. He can see a faint blush across the tops of her cheeks. It's really, really tough not to reach his hand out to brush his fingers across it. He coughs, prompting, "So?"
She glances up and they stare at each other for a few seconds. Spencer sees it, the second she makes up her mind. The way her shoulders settle, her body relaxes, like she already knows the answer to the question she's about to ask. She probably does.
"So, I think I should take you out to dinner, Smith. If you're really good, I'll even spring for dessert."
If he wasn't already completely head over heels for her, Spencer figures, that'd be the moment he would have fallen.
*
The last week of summer is marked by Ryan and Colleen's wedding. It's nothing like Jon's, so resplendent in excess that even Master Ross seems pleased. A week before the actual event, a package arrives from Kingston. A painting.
Ryan spends two solid days holed up in the study.
Spencer opens the door to see Ryan at the desk, scribbling furiously. The desk is huge, a monstrosity that dwarfs the figure behind it. Ink stains Ryan's hands; it's splattered across the blotter.
Ryan's hair is a mess, Spencer notes, sticking up in some spots and pushed flat in others. Almost as if he knows what's going on in Spencer's head, Ryan runs a hand through the loose curls. With a heavy sigh, he leans a cheek into his palm and turns his head. Following his gaze, Spencer sees the painting.
"What is it, Ry?" Spencer asks the silence, stepping closer. "What it is about this painting that's got you so upset?" He doesn't understand. The picture's not overly large, there are much larger ones in the East Hall. More vivid ones in the second floor library. He just doesn't understand.
He's so busy staring at the painting, trying to figure out what so special about it that the frustrated yell and the scrape of Ryan's chair against the floor startles him. Whipping around, Spencer sees Ryan shove the nest of papers off the desk. The first one hits the floor and Ryan goes with it. Spencer starts forward, hands stretched out. Not that it helps (it never works) and Ryan lands hard on his knees.
Ryan's breath is coming in harsh gasps, his chin on his chest. Spencer reaches out, hesitant. Placing a hand on Ryan's shoulder, he can feel the smooth silk under his palm. Ryan feels nothing, Spencer knows. He rarely ever tries to touch them, in these dreams. It's unnerving to feel and not be felt at the same time. But Ryan looks close to tears and he hasn't cried since Apollonia was put down all those years ago.
A second later, Ryan's shoulders dip and with a sigh, he slumps back against the side of the desk. Drawing his legs up, he rests his forehead against his knees. Spencer leans back too, and they sit in silence until Spencer can't stand it anymore. He starts to talk.
He's done it time and time before, with each of them, rambling on about everything and nothing until he wakes up or they fall asleep. And it's no different this time. He talks about Haley, about the fact that she likes action movies and games. How she doesn't let him hide, always asking what he thinks and how he feels. He says that he thinks he might be in love with her, which is kinda stupid. He's too young to know what love is, really, but then he thinks about Jon and Cassandra, about Ryan and Colleen. He knows what love looks like on their faces and he's pretty sure that's what he'd see on his own face.
Ryan's shoulders gradually lower and Spencer's voice is hoarse when he finally moves. Fingertips slide a single sheet of paper closer, and before Ryan picks it up, Spencer sees Dearest Winston in his casual scrawl. Spencer closes his eyes and rests his head back against the desk. He feels Ryan stand, hears the papers as they're gathered up. When he finally opens his eyes again, Ryan's folding the pages in half. He slides them inside the cover of Elegy and places the book quietly back on the shelf. There's a small smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, and Spencer watches as he turns his back on the bookshelf and heads towards the door.
Colleen's standing at the door when Ryan opens it and all Spencer's left with is her soft smile as Ryan swings the door closed behind him.
Spencer's really quiet over the next few days, replaying that last night with Ryan over and over in his mind. Haley notices, and there's a part of him that wants to tell her, so badly, but he doesn't say anything. She just studies his face for a moment then slides her hand in his, settling in beside him on the couch. She turns on the TV, settling on an old episode of Mythbusters after flipping through a couple of channels.
Two nights later, he watches Ryan dance around the ballroom, Colleen smiling wide in his arms as they spin around and around. Spencer thinks he's one step closer to understanding.
"-and she's really smart. We talk about all kinds of stuff." Spencer knows he should probably stop talking about Haley, but it's been three months and it still feels like his heart's going to beat out of his chest sometimes. And Ryan and Jon are both off doing 'married' stuff, so he hasn't really gotten to talk to anyone about it.
Gerard nods, murmuring, "That's always nice, being able to talk to them is important." Michael nods, too, from where he's seated across the tent. He's used to Gerard's eccentric behavior and takes their conversations with a grain of salt. Gerard's told him before that Michael can't actually hear Spencer, but there are occasions when Spencer's not really convinced of that.
Spencer opens his mouth to say something else when Brendon comes tumbling into the tent. He looks slightly dazed, cheeks flushed and hair a wreck. He drops onto the cushion next to Spencer, shirt buttoned crookedly. Spencer sighs loudly, "Geez, Bren, can't you even dress yourself?" He reaches out to poke the bit of skin revealed between the mismatched buttons.
Gerard giggles and Spencer looks up. There's a cool, amused look on Michael's face as well. "What?" He's about to demand an answer from Gerard when all of a sudden it hits him. He turns back to Brendon in shock.
"Wait, what?" Glancing back to Gerard, he sputters,"Really?" All he gets is another laugh. With a disgruntled huff, he flops back against the cushions. Brendon doesn't get play, this is a proven fact. At all. In fact-
"Wait a minute-" Spencer sits back up. "Who was it? Gerard, Gerard ask him who it was." Gerard's mouth is open when Brendon just starts talking, words trampling over each other in his excitement.
"You guys, you guys, why didn't you tell me it was so amazing? I mean-"
Leaning back again, Spencer lets his neck relax, supported by the couch. He turns his head to stare, watching as Brendon babbles on. He totally beat Spencer to losing his virginity. Audrey's name pops up and Spencer blinks. And with Audrey, no less. Who thinks Brendon's not worth the time, or used to not think so apparently. What the fuck?
Spencer tunes back into the conversation.
"-and she did this thing with her tongue-"
With a loud groan, he flings an arm over his eyes. This could take a while.
He wakes up with messy sheets again, but just rolls over and buries his face in his pillow.
~*~
[to remember: age eighteen]
Whoever said that senior year was a breeze is a lying liar who lies, Spencer thinks viciously, shoving one textbook in his locker and grabbing two others. He looks up in time to catch Haley walk by, two of her friends chattering on either side of her. She shoots him a wink, and Spencer can't help the dopey grin that spreads across his face.
He remembers that first day back, walking into the school with her fingers wrapped around his. Brent rolls his eyes at them a lot, but even he admits to Spencer (usually under duress) that she's probably the coolest girl he knows. There's the little fact that she can wipe both their asses at Halo that might earn her a little respect, but Brent refuses to admit it.
The first bell rings and the shuffle in the hallway gets a little more frantic, the noise level raising. He's got three more classes and then a shift at the Smoothie Hut. The job is just one more thing that adds to the chaos around him, but the extra cash is nice, and they're absolutely awesome at scheduling around his activities. He'll text Haley during a break tonight, see what they're going to do this weekend. The warning bell goes off, interrupting his thoughts. He curses, slamming his locker closed and then heading off to class.
Life goes on, in reality and in dreams.
The first thing he sees is Ryan, face pale and shocked, slumped in one of the chairs at the dining table. Breakfast is laid out before them, but neither one is eating.
"What is it?" Spencer demands, even though he knows there'll be no answer. "What's happened?"
Ryan looks up at Colleen. "Are you sure?"
"I know my body. And I know something's different, so yes, I'm fairly positive." She smiles sweetly and Spencer notes that her cheeks are flushed, her eyes happy. She places a hand on the sleeve of Ryan's coat; her smile wilts a little. "What's-" Spencer hates the nervousness that makes her fingers tremble and wonders vaguely when he got so invested in her. "Do you not want a child?"
Spencer chokes.
Spencer sometimes feels as though daytime is the dream, the way he wanders around in it, processing everything that occurs at night. All this while trying to just get through his own daily existence.
His parents notice the preoccupation, but never pushing it but always there when he needs them. His mom always seems to say the right words at the right time. The twins just think he's weird, Spencer's pretty sure, and his dad lets him be for the most part. It's not a bad gig, he knows, this life that he's been given.
Still though, so much has changed over the years. So much continues to change, day and night. Ryan wanders through his home and Spencer can see the wheels turning. He'll find him some nights just staring at the portrait of his father. Those nights Spencer will talk himself nearly hoarse, trying to convince Ryan that he'll never be his father, that he's so much more that George could ever dream to be. Just like always, there's no indication that Ryan hears him.
Even after all these years, Spencer keeps talking.
*
"So-" Brent slides into his seat, notebook slamming onto his desk. Mr. Wheeler, the calculus teacher, raises an eyebrow at the noise and Brent mumbles sorry before turning back to Spencer. "So, SATs on Saturday."
"Yeah." Spencer grimaces. A similar look crosses Brent's face before he asks, "Fazoli's afterwards? Celebrate our continuing ascension into adulthood?"
"Can't. Hales and I are hitting up mini-golf." Brent rolls his eyes. "It's our-"
"Six month anniversary," the teacher interrupts. "Yes, Mr. Smith, so we've all heard. On numerous occasions." He can feel the flush spreading across his cheeks, Brent's huff of laughter next to him as he slides down in his chair a little. "Perhaps we could learn some calculus today, boys? Mr. Wilson, I hope you did your homework last night; you're up." Brent groans as the chalk makes its way towards him, a high arc over the front two rows of the class.
"Mr. Smith, you're on deck."
Spencer slinks lower in his chair.
*
Two days after Christmas Break, there are two envelopes waiting on the kitchen table for him. Both are thick, heavy. Spencer glances at the top one-UNLV-before sliding the second envelope out from under it. He knows what a thick envelope means, but his hands tremble a little as he opens it.
We are happy to inform you that your application to DePaul University has been accepted.
Spencer lets out a sharp bark of laughter and sprawls in a chair at the table, letter held loosely. A second later there's a noise and he looks up to find his mother standing in the doorway. Her arms are crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised. There's conflict in her eyes; pride wavering with consternation, and tension in the line of her body as she stands there, watching him.
The smile drops off his face and he swallows hard. "Uh-" he bites his lip. "So. I guess I should have told you I was applying to college in Chicago, huh?"
She doesn't say anything for a moment, until finally, "Have you told Brent yet?"
That's not what he was expecting her to ask, not at all. There's a look on her face and Spencer drops his gaze, unable to look directly at her. He hasn't told Brent, or even Haley for that matter. It's not like he'd thought he'd actually get in, for crying out loud. It'd been a long-shot application. It was out of state, the programs they offered looked really interesting and he'd had some money left over from helping out with the car insurance. So he'd sent it in.
"Spencer?"
"Jesus, Mom," he bursts out, "It's not a big deal, okay?"
"It's really far away, Spencer. I just don't think you're ready-"
"I'm not a little kid anymore!"
"Don't use that tone with me, mister." She moves away from the door, stepping up to the table. "And I know you're not a kid. But that doesn't mean I'm quite ready for you to go gallivanting halfway across the country for four years."
Staring down at the letter, he curls his fingers around the edges. It crumples easily. He slumps back in his chair and mutters, "It's not like I was going to go anyway." DePaul was a private school. The tuition for one year alone was nearly half of what it'd cost to go to school locally. Spencer's pretty sure they can't afford it, regardless. He makes to toss the letter toward the trash can, but his mom puts a hand on his wrist.
In a soft voice, she says, "Just because I don't want you that far away from me, honey, doesn't mean we wouldn't let you go."
Sighing, he shakes his head. "It's too expensive anyway, Mom. I-I'll be better off taking classes with Brent."
"Well, don't count it out just yet, okay?" She pokes him in the side of his head until he swipes her hand away with a disgruntled, "Fine."
"Great! Now go pick up your sisters. Cheerleading practice should be over soon." Spencer groans. He hates picking up his sisters. All their little friends spend a lot of time giggling and blushing while he waits for the twins to get their shit together. It's awkward for everyone. He doesn't move.
"Now, Spencer."
With a great big put-upon sigh he stands up, sliding the letter back into its envelope. "Leave those," his mom said after a second, pulling stuff out of the fridge. "I'd like to show them to your father tonight." That makes him hesitate, but when he looks over at her, she's got a tiny smile on her face.
Brendon's head is thrown back, his laughter floating over the arena. Spencer can help but smile at the sound from his spot in the audience seats. Caitlin does a little shuffle step to the record playing, turns twice, and does another little move that Brendon does his best to follow. He's not bad, picking it up fairly quick.
Their laughter attracts several of the other dancers and a few minutes later, a line stretches across the low stage with Brendon in the middle. They do a little Charleston-style move, and Brendon's hair flops into his face. He needs a haircut, Spencer notes vaguely. Brendon flips his head back to get it out of his eyes, and the movement exposes the long line of his throat. Spencer looks away, but more laughter draws his gaze back. Even from this distance, Spencer can see the way Brendon's eyes are lit up. At least one of us doesn't have any worries, Spencer thinks.
The song ends and one of the girls rushes over to start it again. The other girls push around Brendon, begging him to dance more. He protests, half-heartedly, and Spencer settles back to watch him give in.
Spencer keeps meaning to talk to Brent about the college thing but stuff just keeps coming up, a stupid finals project in AP History, an English paper on a book that makes him fall asleep every time he reads it, half the crew quits at the Smoothie Hut. It seems like it's never the right time.
And then Haley gets them a hotel room on the night of the Winter Formal.
*
"Jesus Christ," Brent mutters as Spencer sends a wide grin across the courtyard. Haley's sitting with her friends and a light blush spreads across her cheeks before she rolls her eyes and turns away. There's a sharp jab to his arm and Spencer yelps. "What the fuck, Brent?"
"You look like an asshat." Brent punches him again. "Asshat."
"Motherfu-that shit hurts, dickweed." He slaps Brent in the back of the head in retaliation. Before it can devolve into an all-out slap war, the bell rings.
"Pistols at dawn, Wilson." Spencer tosses out as he slides out of his chair. And man, he's been hanging out in Jon's world too much because that sounds exactly like something William would say. Brent just rolls with it, "Whatever, Smith. Like you can kick my ass at Halo."
"No," Spencer grins, "but my girlfriend can!" Brent just scowls in response, heading in the opposite direction. Spencer laughs out loud, ignoring the weird looks from the others in the hallway.
*
Sex is awesome. He loves the way Haley's skin feels as it slides along his, how they both shake against each other.
It's amazing.
What's not amazing, however, is the absolutely horrifying conversation he has to have with his parents when they find his stash of condoms. That is not amazing. Or awesome. It's probably one of the single most embarrassing moments of his life, sitting on the couch across from his dad-from his mom-and talking about responsibility and rules and being an adult.
He's eighteen years old and doesn't think he's been this red since that time at the lake when he was twelve. He'd lain on his stomach, the skin stretching so tight each time he moved that he'd barely done more than sleep for two days. This is eerily similar. Spencer barely moves for fear of his skin stretching apart at the seams until finally, his dad mutters under his breath that at least keep using protection and lets him go.
Spencer can hear Brent laughing at him already, imagines they way Haley's eyes will widen and then how the corners of her mouth will tilt until she can't contain it anymore. For a split second, Spencer wonders how the others would react.
Jon would be a lot like Haley, unable to keep from smiling after a bit. Brendon would laugh, probably, but give Spencer a hug in sympathy as he'd gotten a similar lecture from Fritz last year. Ryan would, well, Spencer thinks Ryan would say something along the lines of 'at least they care'.
Spencer falls back onto his bed, sighing.
*
"Dude." Brent shoves into a chair across from Spencer and the chair squeals loudly as it slides across the floor. Spencer grimaces and glances over at the librarian. She's giving them the stink-eye and Spencer offers up an apologetic smile. She's distinctly unimpressed and Spencer turns his attention back to Brent.
"Dude," Brent says again. "Where've you been, man? Haven't seen you in a week."
Before he can answer, Brent keeps going. Pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, he shoves it over the table towards Spencer. The UNLV logo is instantly recognizable and Spencer winces internally. Shit, he still hasn't told Brent that he got accepted at DePaul. He'd finally told Haley a week ago, but she's still got a year to go and it seems less of an issue.
Brent though, Brent's his best friend. They've been planning to go to college together since they were eight.
Spencer tunes back in just to hear, "-lost in the mail apparently. The postmark was a month ago and the envelope was torn to shit when it came yesterday. Dude, did you get yours? You hadn't said anything about it so-"
"No," Spencer interrupts. The word is kind of loud in the library and he glances over at the librarian again, before saying in a quieter voice, "No. Yeah, I got mine about a month ago." Brent grins at him and Spencer's stomach twists.
He just sits there as Brent starts talking. Spencer barely hears the words, but the cadence of Brent's words are clear, the excitement evident. There's this moment of silence where Brent stops to take a breath and Spencer blurts out, "I got accepted to DePaul."
"What?" Brent's confused.
"It's in, um," Spencer stumbles over his words.
"It's in Chicago, Spence, I know that." There's a frown on his face now. "What the hell? I thought-"
"I know." Leaning forward, Spencer says, "I didn't think I'd even get in, okay? But it's just." He bites his lip, stopping.
Brent hisses, "We were going to do this together, Spencer. Remember third grade?" There's anger evident in every word now, his voice getting louder. Spencer raises a hand, motioning to keep his voice down, but Brent's having none of it. "What the fuck-"
"Mr. Wilson," The librarian's voice is a sharp crack across the room. There's no doubt she's heard Brent. "That language is not appropriate, perhaps you should go see the principal."
Brent glares at him, snatching up his backpack.
"Brent." Shit. This isn't the way this is supposed to go. "Come on-"
"Fuck off, Spencer."
"Now, Mr. Wilson." Spencer watches helplessly as Brent turns around. He walks away and doesn't look back.
*
It's twenty-three days before Brent talks to him again, the longest the two of them haven't spoken since they've known each other.
He shows up one Saturday afternoon and when Spencer opens the door they stand there in an awkward silence. Finally Spencer says the first thing that comes to mind, "I finally beat Haley." He kind of wants to face-palm himself.
"No shit?" Brent's eyebrows go up. He offers him a small smile a second later. "How does it feel to finally have your manhood back?"
Spencer leans up against the door frame, tries not to smile too wide. "Not too bad. Not too bad at all."
*
On April 12th, Brendon's birthday, the South attacks Fort Sumter and the Civil War begins. Spencer's studied history for school, but he's never been so close to it.
Jon's arguing with Tom.
"It's not like you got slaves, Thomas! I don't see why you've got to run off, too." There's a frown on his face, anger, but Spencer can see the worry that lies behind all of it. Jon flings an arm out, "It's a damn fool idea and you know it!"
"Will shouldn't go by himself-"
"He's not!" Jon shouts. In thirteen some odd years, Spencer's never seen him this angry, this scared. "He's got Nicholas believing all this bullshit, too!" Tom's jaw clenches. The two of them stare at each other, Jon's shoulders hitching from all the yelling, until Tom says quietly, "We leave in two days, Jonny. With or without you." Jon shakes his head, but says nothing. He looks down and after a moment, Tom turns and walks away.
Two nights later, Spencer doesn't say a word, just sits next to Jon on the dock. Their feet hang off the edge and the memory of laughter echoes around them.
The next morning Spencer mails in his acceptance to DePaul.
to dream
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
[to remember: age sixteen]
On Ryan's birthday, Colleen steals Ryan's heart right out from under Kingston.
Spencer watches with near-vicious glee as he slips from Kingston's grasp, literally, as Ryan follows her to the dance floor. Her smile is bright and Ryan's cheeks flush as he stumbles over his own feet. She laughs and shows him how to do it right. It's not smooth, or pretty, but Spencer sees the second Ryan falls in love. He ignores the dip in his stomach and turns to goad Kingston. Only the look on his face makes Spencer's stomach drop even further and he doesn't say anything, just watches Kingston watch Ryan.
Two weeks later, Kingston departs for Paris.
His letters are sporadic at best, but Ryan keeps them all. Spencer does his best not to think about the sadness in Ryan's eyes as he tucks them into the back of Elegy, the way his fingers trail over the spine of the book as he slides it back on the shelf.
"Jesus, where is ever-oooph!"
Spencer bounces off a wall of solid muscle. Landing on his ass, he glances up to see a rather large guy striding past him as though nothing happened. Which, well, once again Spencer's reminded of how little he actually impacts these dreamscapes. Before he can let that thought get to him, he hears Brendon's voice.
There's a plaintive whine to it as Brendon comes barreling around the corner. "But Fitzzzzz, you were made for piggyback rides! Come on!" He makes a flying leap and Spencer flinches. A startled yelp has him looking back up, only to see 'Fitz' holding Brendon upside down. The look on Brendon's face makes Spencer laugh out loud.
"Um, hello. Hi. Hi there, Audrey."
Brendon says it with as much aplomb as one can while being in his current position. Audrey raises one eyebrow and continues past them without responding. Brendon's face falls Spencer sticks his foot out. Unsurprisingly enough, she steps over it and Spencer mutters, "Stuck up much?" Followed by, "I don't understand what you see in her, Bren."
Apparently Fitz agrees, a frown marring his thick brow. A murmur of words fall from his mouth, guttural and incomprehensible until Brendon crows, "Ooh, Fitz. Fitz, you should teach me some German. Maybe a couple of curse words--" Brendon's voice fades as he's carried away.
Brendon adores Fitz Halleberg, and Spencer can't say much. The guy is amazing. He always knows where Brendon's glasses are, he lets Brendon climb all over him (despite the weary, put-upon sighs), and Brendon's never late for practice or performances now. And most importantly though, when Brendon's been snubbed by Audrey again and again, Fitz distracts him.
*
And while Brendon just seems to be discovering the opposite sex, things are getting serious with Jon and Cassandra. So serious, in fact, that Spencer wakes up one morning in shock.
Jon proposed.
Two days later, Spencer's in the kitchen, just standing in front of the refrigerator. Jon's voice keeps choosing the most inopportune times to float through his head, and it's not until the hand lands on his shoulder that he realizes his mom is talking to him.
"Spence, honey, are you okay?" Concern laces the curiosity in her voice and Spencer jerks open the fridge door with a muttered, "Fine, Mom."
He's not really hungry, but he's got the damn door open and she'll definitely ask more questions if he doesn't pick something so he grabs a container off the top shelf. It's not until he's closed the door that he looks at what's he picked up. Yogurt. And here it comes--.
"Spencer James Smith." She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. "Really?"
Spencer glares and defiantly rips the top off. Grabbing a spoon, he shovels a big scoop into his mouth. The coolness hits his tongue, followed quickly by slimy texture and oh, yeah, he hates yogurt. He manages to swallow.
His mom just watches and he really hates the slightly amused look on her face. (Seriously, it's like his life is one big joke to her. He wouldn't be surprised really.) She moves forward, snatching the container out his hands. Spencer tries not to gag as she takes a really big bite. Pointing the empty spoon at him, she says, "Sit."
Spencer sighs loudly."Mo-"
"Sit." The tone brooks no argument, so he takes a seat at the table. "And quit rolling your eyes at everything I say."
"Mom-"
"Spencer James Smith-" Shit, full name twice in less that ten minutes. "I don't appreciate the fact that you think I'm stupid." He opens his mouth to apologize, but she continues before he can get anything out. "Now. I know something's bothering you." Spencer looks down at the table, away from her concerned gaze.
"You're not sleeping well, are you?" That makes his head jerk up in surprise. "Your bed's too neat." She smiles at the blush that starts across his cheeks. "Normally, your sheets are all over the place. Which-" she gives him a look, "-you really need to clean your room, mister." She waves a hand when he opens his mouth to protest. "Anyway. That's not the issue here." She gives him that look, the one that always makes him want to confess every bad thing, every bad thought he has. He looks away again.
"Spence, honey, what is it?" She asks softly. "What's bothering you? You know you can tell me."
Well, that's not true, is it? A little voice in his head whispers.
But she's right, Jon's proposal hasthrown him. He just knows that there's no way he can really explain what the problem is when he's not quite sure what it is himself.
"Is it a girl?" He's so startled at the question that he just shakes his head.
A second later, "Is it a boy?"
Spencer chokes, "Wha-what!? No. God, Mom." His face feels like it's on fire. "What the hell?
"That's a lot of protestation there, honey." She reaches out at pops him lightly on the side of his head, "And watch your language."
They sit there in silence while Spencer tries to make his heart stop pounding so loudly, until he finally mumbles, "Girls just aren't that interesting." Well, Cassandra and Colleen seem pretty cool, but he doesn't want to kiss them. Not like Ryan and Jon want to apparently. Jon proposed, for God's sake. He's only seventeen.
"Well, there's nothing wrong if you like boys-"
"I didn't say that!"
"Regardless, honey, there wouldn't be anything wrong with that.....I think you're too young to really know what you want, but you shouldn't ever be afraid to tell me or your father-" He blanches at the thought of having this conversation with his dad. "-something like that, Spencer James."
It'd be kind of hard to explain that he's got a crush on a boy. Who probably lives in a different century. Right. That'd go over great. Not that he does.
He sighs again, and watches as his mom continues eating his yogurt. The silence isn't as uncomfortable as it could be and for that, Spencer is grateful.
Cassandra practically glows as she walks to met Jon.
There's a ring of flowers settled around her head and her feet are bare. Jon's grin is blinding when he notices. Tom stands tall and proud next to Jon, and Spencer notes how much he's filled out in the last year. Nicholas and Will are grinning like fools beside Tom. Spencer kind of wishes he could stand up there with them, even though his stomach flips as Jon and Cassandra exchange their vows.
Will's father is noticeably absent.
~*~
[to remember: age seventeen]
Spencer wanders into the living room, newspaper in hand. He has to work really hard at not rolling his eyes at his parents, snuggled up on the couch like a couple of teenagers. With herculean effort he manages not to say anything until the CSI credits are rolling up the screen.
"So." They both turn their heads to look at him. They look like owls. God, his parents are so weird. He barely manages not to say that part out loud. This is really important and he needs to be convincing. His dad arches an eyebrow at him and Spencer realizes he's been standing there just staring at them. Clearing his throat, "Um, well-as you know, I'm old enough to start driving and so I think-"
Before he can finish, Jackie swings past him, snatching the paper out of his hand. Crystal's right on her heels.
"Hey!"
"Spence wants to take driver's ed classes." They flop on the couch beside their Mom, handing over the paper in her hand. Spencer glares at them and they just smile back, heads tilted at the same angle. Creepy. His whole family is creepy and weird.
"I don't know, honey." His mom's looking down at the ad he'd circled. "These classes are $295."
"But Mom-"
His father chimes in, "Can't you just wait to take the one that's offered through the school? A few more months won't hurt, you know."
Frustration's welling up, but he makes himself take a breath. He's prepared for this, knows his parents well enough that this would probably be the reaction. "Well, um, I could. But I know that those classes will have a whole lot more people in them. This way the classes are guaranteed to be smaller. More one on one time. More time behind the wheel learning how to be a good driver." He doesn't bring up the fact that most of his class has already been through Driver's Ed.
He takes a breath. "I mean, wouldn't you rather have someone who could give me a lot more focus rather than spreading their attention over two or three times the students?" Jackie's eyes narrow when their Mom nods her head, agreeing.
"And I'll pay you guys back, I promise." He throws in the ringer. "In fact, I applied at the Smoothie Hut yesterday, and the manager said I was pretty much a shoo-in for the job." Even his dad looks a little startled at that.
He watches the two of them have a silent conversation and can barely stop himself from a fist-pump of triumph when he sees the tiny dip of his father's chin. He manages to keep a straight face as his mom turns back towards him, pointing the newspaper at him. "All right, young man, you've got a deal. However-" she pops the twins on the tops of their heads. "It also includes baby-sitting detail. This Friday while your father and I go out with the Stumphs."
"Mom-"
His protests are instantly overridden with the twins' cries of dismay.
*
Driver's Ed classes are the most boring thing Spencer thinks he's ever done. And that includes last year, when Ryan decided that reading The Aeneid out loud was a good idea. In Latin no less.
In fact, the only good thing about Driver's Ed class is-
"Hey! Hey, Spencer!"
He turns at the sound of his name, coming face to face with dark eyes and a bright smile. "Hales, what's up?" Spencer is so cool, he's like ice. Then he ruins it by grinning like an idiot. If it wouldn't make him look even more ridiculous, he'd slap his forehead.
Haley's grin widens and she slips an arm around his. "You're on your way to work, right?" He nods. "How 'bout some company?"
Like he's going to say no. Sheesh. "Sure, but, uh, what about your mom?"
"Oh, I told her to pick me up from there in a little bit." It takes Spencer a few steps to realize that Haley planned time to walk with him, to spend time with him. He can feel his face heating up, but can't help the wave of happiness that floods through him.
*
He hears her laughter a half-second after the bell over the door rings and he can't help smiling. Turning around, he slides up to the register. Her friends are giggling off to the side, but he ignores them, placing his elbows on the counter, palms flat against the cool tile.
"So, Spencer Smith." Haley leans on the counter, mirroring him. Their fingertips brush. "Tomorrow's the big day. Graduation ceremony, parental embarrassment guaranteed, and little pieces of paper that say we're legal to drive. Sort of."
Spencer nods his head solemnly. "Yeah, yeah, never thought we'd make it this far. Especially after letting Sarah behind the wheel." They both grimace. Mr. Ritter's car still doesn't sound right.
"Sooo," Spencer tries not to stare at her mouth too hard as she drags out the word. Thankfully, she's looking down at the countertop. He can see a faint blush across the tops of her cheeks. It's really, really tough not to reach his hand out to brush his fingers across it. He coughs, prompting, "So?"
She glances up and they stare at each other for a few seconds. Spencer sees it, the second she makes up her mind. The way her shoulders settle, her body relaxes, like she already knows the answer to the question she's about to ask. She probably does.
"So, I think I should take you out to dinner, Smith. If you're really good, I'll even spring for dessert."
If he wasn't already completely head over heels for her, Spencer figures, that'd be the moment he would have fallen.
*
The last week of summer is marked by Ryan and Colleen's wedding. It's nothing like Jon's, so resplendent in excess that even Master Ross seems pleased. A week before the actual event, a package arrives from Kingston. A painting.
Ryan spends two solid days holed up in the study.
Spencer opens the door to see Ryan at the desk, scribbling furiously. The desk is huge, a monstrosity that dwarfs the figure behind it. Ink stains Ryan's hands; it's splattered across the blotter.
Ryan's hair is a mess, Spencer notes, sticking up in some spots and pushed flat in others. Almost as if he knows what's going on in Spencer's head, Ryan runs a hand through the loose curls. With a heavy sigh, he leans a cheek into his palm and turns his head. Following his gaze, Spencer sees the painting.
"What is it, Ry?" Spencer asks the silence, stepping closer. "What it is about this painting that's got you so upset?" He doesn't understand. The picture's not overly large, there are much larger ones in the East Hall. More vivid ones in the second floor library. He just doesn't understand.
He's so busy staring at the painting, trying to figure out what so special about it that the frustrated yell and the scrape of Ryan's chair against the floor startles him. Whipping around, Spencer sees Ryan shove the nest of papers off the desk. The first one hits the floor and Ryan goes with it. Spencer starts forward, hands stretched out. Not that it helps (it never works) and Ryan lands hard on his knees.
Ryan's breath is coming in harsh gasps, his chin on his chest. Spencer reaches out, hesitant. Placing a hand on Ryan's shoulder, he can feel the smooth silk under his palm. Ryan feels nothing, Spencer knows. He rarely ever tries to touch them, in these dreams. It's unnerving to feel and not be felt at the same time. But Ryan looks close to tears and he hasn't cried since Apollonia was put down all those years ago.
A second later, Ryan's shoulders dip and with a sigh, he slumps back against the side of the desk. Drawing his legs up, he rests his forehead against his knees. Spencer leans back too, and they sit in silence until Spencer can't stand it anymore. He starts to talk.
He's done it time and time before, with each of them, rambling on about everything and nothing until he wakes up or they fall asleep. And it's no different this time. He talks about Haley, about the fact that she likes action movies and games. How she doesn't let him hide, always asking what he thinks and how he feels. He says that he thinks he might be in love with her, which is kinda stupid. He's too young to know what love is, really, but then he thinks about Jon and Cassandra, about Ryan and Colleen. He knows what love looks like on their faces and he's pretty sure that's what he'd see on his own face.
Ryan's shoulders gradually lower and Spencer's voice is hoarse when he finally moves. Fingertips slide a single sheet of paper closer, and before Ryan picks it up, Spencer sees Dearest Winston in his casual scrawl. Spencer closes his eyes and rests his head back against the desk. He feels Ryan stand, hears the papers as they're gathered up. When he finally opens his eyes again, Ryan's folding the pages in half. He slides them inside the cover of Elegy and places the book quietly back on the shelf. There's a small smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, and Spencer watches as he turns his back on the bookshelf and heads towards the door.
Colleen's standing at the door when Ryan opens it and all Spencer's left with is her soft smile as Ryan swings the door closed behind him.
Spencer's really quiet over the next few days, replaying that last night with Ryan over and over in his mind. Haley notices, and there's a part of him that wants to tell her, so badly, but he doesn't say anything. She just studies his face for a moment then slides her hand in his, settling in beside him on the couch. She turns on the TV, settling on an old episode of Mythbusters after flipping through a couple of channels.
Two nights later, he watches Ryan dance around the ballroom, Colleen smiling wide in his arms as they spin around and around. Spencer thinks he's one step closer to understanding.
"-and she's really smart. We talk about all kinds of stuff." Spencer knows he should probably stop talking about Haley, but it's been three months and it still feels like his heart's going to beat out of his chest sometimes. And Ryan and Jon are both off doing 'married' stuff, so he hasn't really gotten to talk to anyone about it.
Gerard nods, murmuring, "That's always nice, being able to talk to them is important." Michael nods, too, from where he's seated across the tent. He's used to Gerard's eccentric behavior and takes their conversations with a grain of salt. Gerard's told him before that Michael can't actually hear Spencer, but there are occasions when Spencer's not really convinced of that.
Spencer opens his mouth to say something else when Brendon comes tumbling into the tent. He looks slightly dazed, cheeks flushed and hair a wreck. He drops onto the cushion next to Spencer, shirt buttoned crookedly. Spencer sighs loudly, "Geez, Bren, can't you even dress yourself?" He reaches out to poke the bit of skin revealed between the mismatched buttons.
Gerard giggles and Spencer looks up. There's a cool, amused look on Michael's face as well. "What?" He's about to demand an answer from Gerard when all of a sudden it hits him. He turns back to Brendon in shock.
"Wait, what?" Glancing back to Gerard, he sputters,"Really?" All he gets is another laugh. With a disgruntled huff, he flops back against the cushions. Brendon doesn't get play, this is a proven fact. At all. In fact-
"Wait a minute-" Spencer sits back up. "Who was it? Gerard, Gerard ask him who it was." Gerard's mouth is open when Brendon just starts talking, words trampling over each other in his excitement.
"You guys, you guys, why didn't you tell me it was so amazing? I mean-"
Leaning back again, Spencer lets his neck relax, supported by the couch. He turns his head to stare, watching as Brendon babbles on. He totally beat Spencer to losing his virginity. Audrey's name pops up and Spencer blinks. And with Audrey, no less. Who thinks Brendon's not worth the time, or used to not think so apparently. What the fuck?
Spencer tunes back into the conversation.
"-and she did this thing with her tongue-"
With a loud groan, he flings an arm over his eyes. This could take a while.
He wakes up with messy sheets again, but just rolls over and buries his face in his pillow.
~*~
[to remember: age eighteen]
Whoever said that senior year was a breeze is a lying liar who lies, Spencer thinks viciously, shoving one textbook in his locker and grabbing two others. He looks up in time to catch Haley walk by, two of her friends chattering on either side of her. She shoots him a wink, and Spencer can't help the dopey grin that spreads across his face.
He remembers that first day back, walking into the school with her fingers wrapped around his. Brent rolls his eyes at them a lot, but even he admits to Spencer (usually under duress) that she's probably the coolest girl he knows. There's the little fact that she can wipe both their asses at Halo that might earn her a little respect, but Brent refuses to admit it.
The first bell rings and the shuffle in the hallway gets a little more frantic, the noise level raising. He's got three more classes and then a shift at the Smoothie Hut. The job is just one more thing that adds to the chaos around him, but the extra cash is nice, and they're absolutely awesome at scheduling around his activities. He'll text Haley during a break tonight, see what they're going to do this weekend. The warning bell goes off, interrupting his thoughts. He curses, slamming his locker closed and then heading off to class.
Life goes on, in reality and in dreams.
The first thing he sees is Ryan, face pale and shocked, slumped in one of the chairs at the dining table. Breakfast is laid out before them, but neither one is eating.
"What is it?" Spencer demands, even though he knows there'll be no answer. "What's happened?"
Ryan looks up at Colleen. "Are you sure?"
"I know my body. And I know something's different, so yes, I'm fairly positive." She smiles sweetly and Spencer notes that her cheeks are flushed, her eyes happy. She places a hand on the sleeve of Ryan's coat; her smile wilts a little. "What's-" Spencer hates the nervousness that makes her fingers tremble and wonders vaguely when he got so invested in her. "Do you not want a child?"
Spencer chokes.
Spencer sometimes feels as though daytime is the dream, the way he wanders around in it, processing everything that occurs at night. All this while trying to just get through his own daily existence.
His parents notice the preoccupation, but never pushing it but always there when he needs them. His mom always seems to say the right words at the right time. The twins just think he's weird, Spencer's pretty sure, and his dad lets him be for the most part. It's not a bad gig, he knows, this life that he's been given.
Still though, so much has changed over the years. So much continues to change, day and night. Ryan wanders through his home and Spencer can see the wheels turning. He'll find him some nights just staring at the portrait of his father. Those nights Spencer will talk himself nearly hoarse, trying to convince Ryan that he'll never be his father, that he's so much more that George could ever dream to be. Just like always, there's no indication that Ryan hears him.
Even after all these years, Spencer keeps talking.
*
"So-" Brent slides into his seat, notebook slamming onto his desk. Mr. Wheeler, the calculus teacher, raises an eyebrow at the noise and Brent mumbles sorry before turning back to Spencer. "So, SATs on Saturday."
"Yeah." Spencer grimaces. A similar look crosses Brent's face before he asks, "Fazoli's afterwards? Celebrate our continuing ascension into adulthood?"
"Can't. Hales and I are hitting up mini-golf." Brent rolls his eyes. "It's our-"
"Six month anniversary," the teacher interrupts. "Yes, Mr. Smith, so we've all heard. On numerous occasions." He can feel the flush spreading across his cheeks, Brent's huff of laughter next to him as he slides down in his chair a little. "Perhaps we could learn some calculus today, boys? Mr. Wilson, I hope you did your homework last night; you're up." Brent groans as the chalk makes its way towards him, a high arc over the front two rows of the class.
"Mr. Smith, you're on deck."
Spencer slinks lower in his chair.
*
Two days after Christmas Break, there are two envelopes waiting on the kitchen table for him. Both are thick, heavy. Spencer glances at the top one-UNLV-before sliding the second envelope out from under it. He knows what a thick envelope means, but his hands tremble a little as he opens it.
We are happy to inform you that your application to DePaul University has been accepted.
Spencer lets out a sharp bark of laughter and sprawls in a chair at the table, letter held loosely. A second later there's a noise and he looks up to find his mother standing in the doorway. Her arms are crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised. There's conflict in her eyes; pride wavering with consternation, and tension in the line of her body as she stands there, watching him.
The smile drops off his face and he swallows hard. "Uh-" he bites his lip. "So. I guess I should have told you I was applying to college in Chicago, huh?"
She doesn't say anything for a moment, until finally, "Have you told Brent yet?"
That's not what he was expecting her to ask, not at all. There's a look on her face and Spencer drops his gaze, unable to look directly at her. He hasn't told Brent, or even Haley for that matter. It's not like he'd thought he'd actually get in, for crying out loud. It'd been a long-shot application. It was out of state, the programs they offered looked really interesting and he'd had some money left over from helping out with the car insurance. So he'd sent it in.
"Spencer?"
"Jesus, Mom," he bursts out, "It's not a big deal, okay?"
"It's really far away, Spencer. I just don't think you're ready-"
"I'm not a little kid anymore!"
"Don't use that tone with me, mister." She moves away from the door, stepping up to the table. "And I know you're not a kid. But that doesn't mean I'm quite ready for you to go gallivanting halfway across the country for four years."
Staring down at the letter, he curls his fingers around the edges. It crumples easily. He slumps back in his chair and mutters, "It's not like I was going to go anyway." DePaul was a private school. The tuition for one year alone was nearly half of what it'd cost to go to school locally. Spencer's pretty sure they can't afford it, regardless. He makes to toss the letter toward the trash can, but his mom puts a hand on his wrist.
In a soft voice, she says, "Just because I don't want you that far away from me, honey, doesn't mean we wouldn't let you go."
Sighing, he shakes his head. "It's too expensive anyway, Mom. I-I'll be better off taking classes with Brent."
"Well, don't count it out just yet, okay?" She pokes him in the side of his head until he swipes her hand away with a disgruntled, "Fine."
"Great! Now go pick up your sisters. Cheerleading practice should be over soon." Spencer groans. He hates picking up his sisters. All their little friends spend a lot of time giggling and blushing while he waits for the twins to get their shit together. It's awkward for everyone. He doesn't move.
"Now, Spencer."
With a great big put-upon sigh he stands up, sliding the letter back into its envelope. "Leave those," his mom said after a second, pulling stuff out of the fridge. "I'd like to show them to your father tonight." That makes him hesitate, but when he looks over at her, she's got a tiny smile on her face.
Brendon's head is thrown back, his laughter floating over the arena. Spencer can help but smile at the sound from his spot in the audience seats. Caitlin does a little shuffle step to the record playing, turns twice, and does another little move that Brendon does his best to follow. He's not bad, picking it up fairly quick.
Their laughter attracts several of the other dancers and a few minutes later, a line stretches across the low stage with Brendon in the middle. They do a little Charleston-style move, and Brendon's hair flops into his face. He needs a haircut, Spencer notes vaguely. Brendon flips his head back to get it out of his eyes, and the movement exposes the long line of his throat. Spencer looks away, but more laughter draws his gaze back. Even from this distance, Spencer can see the way Brendon's eyes are lit up. At least one of us doesn't have any worries, Spencer thinks.
The song ends and one of the girls rushes over to start it again. The other girls push around Brendon, begging him to dance more. He protests, half-heartedly, and Spencer settles back to watch him give in.
Spencer keeps meaning to talk to Brent about the college thing but stuff just keeps coming up, a stupid finals project in AP History, an English paper on a book that makes him fall asleep every time he reads it, half the crew quits at the Smoothie Hut. It seems like it's never the right time.
And then Haley gets them a hotel room on the night of the Winter Formal.
*
"Jesus Christ," Brent mutters as Spencer sends a wide grin across the courtyard. Haley's sitting with her friends and a light blush spreads across her cheeks before she rolls her eyes and turns away. There's a sharp jab to his arm and Spencer yelps. "What the fuck, Brent?"
"You look like an asshat." Brent punches him again. "Asshat."
"Motherfu-that shit hurts, dickweed." He slaps Brent in the back of the head in retaliation. Before it can devolve into an all-out slap war, the bell rings.
"Pistols at dawn, Wilson." Spencer tosses out as he slides out of his chair. And man, he's been hanging out in Jon's world too much because that sounds exactly like something William would say. Brent just rolls with it, "Whatever, Smith. Like you can kick my ass at Halo."
"No," Spencer grins, "but my girlfriend can!" Brent just scowls in response, heading in the opposite direction. Spencer laughs out loud, ignoring the weird looks from the others in the hallway.
*
Sex is awesome. He loves the way Haley's skin feels as it slides along his, how they both shake against each other.
It's amazing.
What's not amazing, however, is the absolutely horrifying conversation he has to have with his parents when they find his stash of condoms. That is not amazing. Or awesome. It's probably one of the single most embarrassing moments of his life, sitting on the couch across from his dad-from his mom-and talking about responsibility and rules and being an adult.
He's eighteen years old and doesn't think he's been this red since that time at the lake when he was twelve. He'd lain on his stomach, the skin stretching so tight each time he moved that he'd barely done more than sleep for two days. This is eerily similar. Spencer barely moves for fear of his skin stretching apart at the seams until finally, his dad mutters under his breath that at least keep using protection and lets him go.
Spencer can hear Brent laughing at him already, imagines they way Haley's eyes will widen and then how the corners of her mouth will tilt until she can't contain it anymore. For a split second, Spencer wonders how the others would react.
Jon would be a lot like Haley, unable to keep from smiling after a bit. Brendon would laugh, probably, but give Spencer a hug in sympathy as he'd gotten a similar lecture from Fritz last year. Ryan would, well, Spencer thinks Ryan would say something along the lines of 'at least they care'.
Spencer falls back onto his bed, sighing.
*
"Dude." Brent shoves into a chair across from Spencer and the chair squeals loudly as it slides across the floor. Spencer grimaces and glances over at the librarian. She's giving them the stink-eye and Spencer offers up an apologetic smile. She's distinctly unimpressed and Spencer turns his attention back to Brent.
"Dude," Brent says again. "Where've you been, man? Haven't seen you in a week."
Before he can answer, Brent keeps going. Pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, he shoves it over the table towards Spencer. The UNLV logo is instantly recognizable and Spencer winces internally. Shit, he still hasn't told Brent that he got accepted at DePaul. He'd finally told Haley a week ago, but she's still got a year to go and it seems less of an issue.
Brent though, Brent's his best friend. They've been planning to go to college together since they were eight.
Spencer tunes back in just to hear, "-lost in the mail apparently. The postmark was a month ago and the envelope was torn to shit when it came yesterday. Dude, did you get yours? You hadn't said anything about it so-"
"No," Spencer interrupts. The word is kind of loud in the library and he glances over at the librarian again, before saying in a quieter voice, "No. Yeah, I got mine about a month ago." Brent grins at him and Spencer's stomach twists.
He just sits there as Brent starts talking. Spencer barely hears the words, but the cadence of Brent's words are clear, the excitement evident. There's this moment of silence where Brent stops to take a breath and Spencer blurts out, "I got accepted to DePaul."
"What?" Brent's confused.
"It's in, um," Spencer stumbles over his words.
"It's in Chicago, Spence, I know that." There's a frown on his face now. "What the hell? I thought-"
"I know." Leaning forward, Spencer says, "I didn't think I'd even get in, okay? But it's just." He bites his lip, stopping.
Brent hisses, "We were going to do this together, Spencer. Remember third grade?" There's anger evident in every word now, his voice getting louder. Spencer raises a hand, motioning to keep his voice down, but Brent's having none of it. "What the fuck-"
"Mr. Wilson," The librarian's voice is a sharp crack across the room. There's no doubt she's heard Brent. "That language is not appropriate, perhaps you should go see the principal."
Brent glares at him, snatching up his backpack.
"Brent." Shit. This isn't the way this is supposed to go. "Come on-"
"Fuck off, Spencer."
"Now, Mr. Wilson." Spencer watches helplessly as Brent turns around. He walks away and doesn't look back.
*
It's twenty-three days before Brent talks to him again, the longest the two of them haven't spoken since they've known each other.
He shows up one Saturday afternoon and when Spencer opens the door they stand there in an awkward silence. Finally Spencer says the first thing that comes to mind, "I finally beat Haley." He kind of wants to face-palm himself.
"No shit?" Brent's eyebrows go up. He offers him a small smile a second later. "How does it feel to finally have your manhood back?"
Spencer leans up against the door frame, tries not to smile too wide. "Not too bad. Not too bad at all."
*
On April 12th, Brendon's birthday, the South attacks Fort Sumter and the Civil War begins. Spencer's studied history for school, but he's never been so close to it.
Jon's arguing with Tom.
"It's not like you got slaves, Thomas! I don't see why you've got to run off, too." There's a frown on his face, anger, but Spencer can see the worry that lies behind all of it. Jon flings an arm out, "It's a damn fool idea and you know it!"
"Will shouldn't go by himself-"
"He's not!" Jon shouts. In thirteen some odd years, Spencer's never seen him this angry, this scared. "He's got Nicholas believing all this bullshit, too!" Tom's jaw clenches. The two of them stare at each other, Jon's shoulders hitching from all the yelling, until Tom says quietly, "We leave in two days, Jonny. With or without you." Jon shakes his head, but says nothing. He looks down and after a moment, Tom turns and walks away.
Two nights later, Spencer doesn't say a word, just sits next to Jon on the dock. Their feet hang off the edge and the memory of laughter echoes around them.
The next morning Spencer mails in his acceptance to DePaul.
to dream