Current mood:	cold
Entry tags:	flowers by the fire, jon/brendon, joncer, ryden

Title: Flowers By The Fire [35/55]
Author: peopleexisting
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: Jon/Brendon, Jon/Spencer, Ryan/Brendon
POV: Third person, Jon’s.
Warnings: Very sexual situations (including kinky&aggressive), heavy drug abuse, heavy violence, character death.
Summary: AU. Jon and Brendon live for life and live for love. They paint and they sing and they don’t care for money or security. When they’re kicked out of their flat, and find a rentable room in a house belonging to two, quieter boys called Spencer and Ryan, they move in as soon as possible. But, as Jon will soon find out, everybody has problems, and those problems might just destroy them all.
Disclaimer: Not true, et cetera.
Beta: writeenow</lj>.
Author Notes: At the bottom of the chapter.

Flowers By The Fire previous chapters
Burnt Petals previous chapters

by jokeonyou</lj>



The silence seems to billow on for an eternity.

Jon cannot tear his eyes away from Spencer's, not for anything in the world. Spencer's eyes have never looked bluer, have never looked more beautiful. They are shadowed, though. Shadowed with something indescribable and horrific. What is it? Jon can't really tell. It looks like pain, pure pain, and perhaps disappointment. Maybe anger. Maybe even defeat, as though he's long expected this to happen and he's not really surprised.

Something is unfurling in Jon's gut. It's not guilt, fuck no. Guilt is too weak a word for what he's feeling. All of the rightness and the perfection of having Brendon ontop of him has all but slipped away and he wishes Brendon would just clamber off him already. He daren't say anything to prompt such a movement, though. He daren't speak or clear his throat or shift. He just stares into Spencer's eyes and wishes that he could just disappear.

Finally, eventually, at last, Brendon starts to move. He makes the smallest of noises from the back of his throat and moves his limbs, slowly and hesitantly. He rests his feet upon the floor and stands up, straightening his limbs and looking nowhere but at the floor. He's still topless and he shivers slightly, but Jon barely gives him a glance. All he can think of is SpencerSpencerSpencer ...

"Um," Brendon says, and Jon flinches. Spencer's blue eyes and Ryan's honey, hurt ones move to stare at the standing boy. "This. This isn't. I-I, I think everybody just needs to take a deep breath and think about things before anybody gets mad."

"Before anybody gets mad?" Spencer repeats, in a small, hollow voice, which suddenly and sharply rises to a shout. "Shut the fuck up, Brendon, you haven't got any right to say that, you fucking dick."

Brendon's hurt eyes move to Ryan and then to Jon, as though waiting for one of them to defend him. When the silence simply stretches on, however, he just hugs himself and bites his lower lip. "I'm not a dick," he mumbles, quietly. Spencer makes a sound of disbelief and Brendon closes his eyes. "I'm not."

"No, sorry, you're not a dick," Spencer says, and he gives a humourless laugh, stepping more fully into the room. "You're just a whore and a cheat and a druggie, aren't you?"

Brendon's eyes fly open and he looks wounded. "Hang on, that's not fair, you can't just --"

"I can't just what? You're so in love with Jon but you'd rather give him up than your precious fucking powder. Don't you dare try to defend yourself, you fucking whore."

"Look, shut the fuck up," Brendon shouts back, and there are tears in his eyes now. "You don't understand this. You don't understand me and you don't fucking understand Jon, so don't pretend you do."

"I don't understand Jon? I don't? You're the one who is holding him back and fucking up his life!"

"Shut up! You don't get this, you don't know us and you don't know how any of this feels. You've never had to live like this and --"

"Neither have you!" Spencer yells, looking livid now. Jon is still too terrified to make a movement and Ryan is looking beyond stunned at Spencer's side. "You think you need your drugs and your sex to live? You're a child, Brendon, and it's about time somebody told you the truth. Just because you can pout and pretend to be so fucking innocent, you think you can get anything from anybody, but you're deluded. Your looks will fade - probably because of the meth or whatever - and then what will you be left with? You know the game you're playing. You know you don't love Jon, you don't love anybody. You're just in love with yourself. You're just a vain, spoilt little boy and I hope you fucking die."

Spencer is in tears by the end of his speech, and a couple escape down his cheeks. Jon's stomach is churning and Ryan is staring at Brendon, and Brendon ... Brendon is as pale as death. He closes his eyes, draws in a big breath, and when he opens them again they're glossed with tears. "You're right," he mumbles, looking shell shocked. Before anybody can say anything, Brendon is shoving past Spencer and Ryan.

He pauses for a moment next to Ryan, whispers, "I'm so, so sorry," and leaves, slamming the front door behind him.

"Fuck," Ryan mutters, under his breath, and everybody turns to look at him. He glares at Spencer through narrow eyes. "Well, that was r-really mature, w-wasn't it?"

Spencer blinks. "What? Ryan, he was fucking cheating on you and has probably been doing so since you started going out. Don't act like this is my fault."

"You didn't have t-to have a go at Brendon when it's J-Jon who's hurt you," Ryan tells him, in a whisper, and a look of realisation comes over Spencer's face. Jon - who had been halfway through trying to silently and subtley climb off the couch - flinches and stands. Shit. He'd been hoping to be forgotten about in all of the commotion, or at least, left out of the arguing for as long as possible.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jon says hastily, raising his hands defensively as both Ryan and Spencer turn to him. "Seriously, I didn't mean for that to happen. We were talking and suddenly ... I don't know, but it was an accident and I didn't mean to kiss him and it's the only time it's happened since we started going out, Spence, I swear, but --"

"You whore," Spencer cuts through him, in a low voice, and Jon's insides actually ache. "Don't give me that bullshit. Just get out."

"I - what?"

"Get out," Spencer repeats, sounding oddly calm.

"But --"

"Get the hell out of my house, Walker," Spencer whispers, taking a step closer to him. Jon just wants to kiss him and say sorry and make everything okay again, because he can't just walk out of this house and leave it all, leave Spencer. He's in too deep. He feels too much for him. "I never, ever want to see you again."

"Wait," Jon says, again, a desperate denial rising up inside of him. "Wait, you can't just - we can't just --"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do when you cheated on me," Spencer spits and there's a kind of brokenness in his eyes that wasn't there before. "Just - just get out."

Jon can't help but move sharply forward and grab Spencer by the forearms, hoping to move forward and press their lips together. But Spencer turns his head to avoid the kiss, and pushes Jon forward, away from him. Jon stands there, an ache in his heart, and he stares at Spencer with wide eyes, feeling close to tears or something equally stupid. He can't believe that he's done this, he can't believe this is happening. "Spencer," he croaks, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Spencer, I ..."

"Save it for your precious love," Spencer tells him in a kind of sob, and the next thing knows Spencer is throwing open the front door and staring at Jon with darkened, tearful eyes. "Go and find him. Get the fuck out of my life and l-let me move on, you fuck."

"Spencer," Jon starts, but the next thing he knows Ryan is glaring at him.

"Y-You heard him," Ryan stutters, in a low voice. "This isn't y-your home anymore."

Jon looks towards Spencer and sees the man turning away, tears slipping down his red cheeks soundlessly. It's then that Jon realises. He's fucked this up. He's completely and irrevocably fucked this up.

Spencer is never going to love him again.

"Fuck," Jon mutters, as he realises it. It feels like somebody has shot him in the chest, leaving a gaping wound of guilt and emptiness and denial there. He ... he can't comprehend this, he can't believe what he's done, how much he regrets it already. "Fuck, I --"

"Leave," Spencer says in little more than a whisper and, finally, Jon obeys him.

He gives them both a look as he leaves. Ryan is still fiercely glaring at him, quivering a little with emotion, and Spencer has turned away, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Jon opens his mouth to say something - say anything that might fix this - but then Ryan slams the door and Jon is left alone. Alone, homeless and outside. Alone, homeless, outside and without a hope in the world of winning Spencer Smith's heart back.


x


After a couple of hours walking aimlessly around the city and trying his best not to break down, Jon finds himself standing in front of the modest, neat house of one Shane Valdez. He stares up at it, relishing the quiet of the descending evening, and is thankful that Shane isn't having one of his infamous wild parties. He can't deal with seeing too many people right now. Glancing around, he takes in the empty street, and a shiver passes down his spine. He's not sure where Brendon went off to, but all he wants to do now is sleep, not worry, not think. If he thinks he'll have to remember what he's done, and what he's lost.

If he thinks, he'll inevitably think of Spencer.

Before such thoughts can prey on his mind, he knocks on the pastel-coloured door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He hopes against hope that somebody will be in, somebody sober enough to let him in and give him a stretch of floor to sleep on or something. That's all he needs. A roof over his head and to be left alone. To his relief, the door opens, and Shane stands there. His eyes widen when they fall upon Jon and he looks torn between relief and concern.

"Jon! Thank God, we've been trying to contact you for ages! Why was your phone off? Are you okay? Where have you been?"

Jon blinks in surprise. "Um, you have? Why?"

"Brendon showed up two hours ago, crying and shivering and in a huge mess," Shane explains, stepping back to let Jon in the house. "He said he needed a place to stay and that he's fucked up bad. Fuck, man, what's happening?"

"We both fucked up," Jon admits, and a lump rises in his throat which he attempts in vain to swallow. He steps into the house and Shane shuts the door behind him. "We ... we messed up. We ruined everything."

"You don't have to talk about it yet," Shane reassures him, looking extremely worried now. "Brendon's sleeping in my room, I'm taking the couch tonight. Would you rather sleep with him, or do you want me to set another bed up? I mean, I have a spare room but since William died, Gabe's been using it."

"I'd rather sleep al -- wait, Gabe? Is Gabe here?"

Shane nods, leading the way into the living room. "Yeah, he's upstairs with Brendon now. Why?"

"I need to talk to him," Jon says, remembering Gabe's warning and wondering what on earth he knows about this whole R business. But at the moment he's tired, too tired, and in no mood to delve into this mess of drugs and dealers right now. "I'll do it tomorrow. Can I, can I just have somewhere to sleep, now? I just really want to be alone."

"Of course," Shane smiles, weakly. "I tell you what, I'll sleep on the floor of Gabe's room tonight and you can have the couch? Is that okay? I mean, it won't be that comfortable but ..."

"No, that'll be perfect," Jon smiles back and, despite it all, gratefulness runs through him. "Thanks, Shane. I appreciate all this."

"Don't mention it," Shane tells him, firmly, and opens the door to the living room. It's small but there are already cosy-looking blankets piled up on the faded blue couch. Jon hugs himself, shivering a little, and he's nothing more than numb. He can't afford to think about Brendon or Spencer or even this confusion over Gabe. All he wants to do is sleep. Shane pats him on the shoulder, gives him another small smile, and then leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

Get the fuck out of my life and let me move on.

That's what Spencer had said. That's what he had said, seemingly without an ounce of doubt in his mind. Jon lets out a small whimper and closes his eyes. Already he misses the sweet kisses Spencer would trail across his jaw, the way Spencer would moan breathily, the way they could just sit there and look up and smile. He just ... he just misses him. He hates himself for hurting him like that and he can't believe what he's done, and he just ... fuck.

Jon sinks onto the couch and draws his knees up against his chest. Oh, God. What's he done?

He closes his eyes, another whimper escapes from his lips and, at last, he allows himself to cry.

At that moment, Jon Walker loathes every inch of his own being.





after some unforseen and ridiculous circumstances, i have a new fabulous beta. :3 writeenow</lj>, you're a mean bitch but ily and you can have my first born!