peopleexisting (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} peopleexisting) wrote,@ 2008-12-30 23:07:00 |
|
Title: Flowers By The Fire [38/50]
Author:peopleexisting
Beta:my_0wn_madness
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.
Author Notes: At the end,
Flowers By The Fire previous chapters
Burnt Petals previous chapters
byjokeonyou
A week passes.
Shane does wonders for all of them. He only works in a modest, quiet electronics store, fixing cameras and polishing TV screens for people. His wages cover not only his mortgage, but food and warmth and water enough to keep all four of them satisfied. Jon goes out to play a guitar he borrowed from Gabe on street corners to help with the bill, and Gabe takes some out of his and William's savings, as he now says they're useless. Brendon paces around, restlessly, which doesn't really help financially, but nobody was expecting much from him anyway.
They had all been so excited about going. Spencer's drunken love and sober hatred had dampened Jon's spirits a fair bit, but all in all it just made him more eager to leave. Shane was a bit reluctant but eventually agreed. Pete took all of his cunning, slyness and sexual prowess to get Patrick to agree to leave his beloved job behind. Gabe was showing signs of emotion for the first time since William's death, smiling small, but very real, smiles.
But, then, Brendon came home and told them all quietly that they couldn't leave yet. He had to ensure Ryan would be okay and he wasn't moving an inch out of the city until it was certain the boy would make it. Jon had felt the relief and happiness ebb away bit by bit, and it didn't help that Brendon began to act really strange anyway. He was pulling away from Jon whenever Jon initiated the smallest of kisses. He was shying away from making plans with Gabe. He wasn't drinking, smoking, snorting. He was just moving around, looking stressed and somehow desperate, and he'd even cut down the amount he ate by a meal a day.
It would be an understatement to say that Jon is worried.
Of course, he has next to no idea as to what to do. He doesn't want to ignore the problem, but he's sure that Brendon would just leave the room if he tried to ask what was wrong. And so, he lets it continue, sharing uneasy looks with Shane and having whispered conversations with Gabe late at night. He watches as Brendon avoids his eye and hides in the corners, actually wringing his hands with worry.
News soon came to them that Ryan was going to be discharged from hospital very soon, and that Spencer had been heavily advised to take his friend to some kind of therapist. Jon felt a hell of a lot of guiltiness at this - how could Spencer's wages from Starbucks fund such therapy sessions, on top of hospital and domestic bills? The moment the date was set, a week since the actual suicide attempt, Brendon stood up and announced he was going round to talk to Ryan the moment he got home.
So, now Brendon is leaning against the doorframe and watching Jon, Gabe and Shane watch TV, trying to subtly button his coat up. Jon is no idiot, though; long he's paid attention to everything Brendon is doing, if out of fondness more than suspicion in the past. He turns his head slightly to lock their gazes over the back of the couch and Brendon's cheeks colour, as he bows his head.
"I have to," he pleads, quietly, bringing Shane and Gabe's attention to the scene at hand. He looks even more uncomfortable with two more people watching him but, determinedly, buttons up the last button, at his neck. Straightening up, he smoothes his hair down. "Don't look at me like that. There's things Ryan and I need to talk about."
"Like what?" Gabe asks, looking to be genuinely at a loss. "You can't let him forgive you. You can't go back to him, not after all this."
Brendon's eyes fire with something indescribable but then it fades, to be replaced by his usual innocent curiosity and seductiveness. "Don't say things like that to me. This doesn't involve you and I'm not promising anything. I just need to go see him."
He turns to the door but pauses as Jon calls, "So, you are leaving me for him again? After ... after everything, you've changed your mind again?" He stands up and slowly walks towards the boy, tone flat and empty. His dark eyes meet Brendon's beautiful ones, and he steadily ignores the rush of emotion he feels deep within. "Brendon ... are you going to do this again? Are you going to leave me?"
Brendon's bottom lip actually trembles as he looks down at the floor. "I ... I don't know."
"You need to know," Jon replies, somewhat viciously, but he can't find it within himself to care. He's tired of this, tired of having his heart be passed around, tired of not knowing. Even the worse scenario would be better than this uneasiness, this lack of resolve. "I'm not going to do it again, Brendon. I swear, I am not going to take you back if you choose Ryan this time."
"That's not fair," Brendon whispers, moving his clasped hands to his chest and looking upset. "You can't make me choose like this."
"I can," Jon spits back, passion inflicting every note of his voice. "I can, and I will. You go to him and you tell him you love him, or you tell him that you love me. Then you call me up or come home and tell me what you've chosen and something can get done. I'm tired here, Brendon, I'm tethered. I can't 'save' myself, like you wanted, want, whatever, not until you make a decision. I won't wait forever, Brendon, and I doubt Ryan will either."
He finishes and finds it suddenly hard to catch his breath. He's dooming himself, he knows, he's certain. Brendon will go there, on his orders, and confess deep, "true" love to the bandaged, weak Ryan, and then who knows, maybe Spencer will let Brendon back to keep Ryan happy and the three of them will live together and eat together and laugh together and ... and love together.
"I love you," Brendon whispers, lips next to his ear, and then he's hurrying out of the door and shutting the door gently behind him. Jon watches him go with a sour taste in his mouth, ignoring the tears that are threatening. He should be relieved that this will soon be over, that that he will soon be able to think about his future without the shadowy, uncertain figure of one Brendon Urie by his side. He'll either be happy or he'll be torn apart. But at least he won't be drowning in uncertainty anymore, right?
A warm, comforting hand slips into his and he looks up to see Gabe smiling at him, sadly, wisely.
"He's going to leave me," Jon whispers, suddenly, and suddenly Shane has taken his other hand.
"Maybe," he confesses, calmly, and Jon lets out a moan of actual, physical pain. The word is like a twist in the heart. Shane squeezes his hand and sighs, lightly, "but all is not lost if he does."
"Of course it is," Jon murmurs. They don't understand, and they'll never be able to. "I love him. He's my everything. What will I have?"
"You'll have us," Gabe reminds him and, as the silence stretches on and on, Gabe and Shane only grip his hands tighter.
*
He gets text nearly two hours later.
i need to talk to you. meet me by Candy's asap. xxx
Jon stands outside Candy's Bar and keeps his arms crossed. He came as soon as the text arrived, as soon as he realized that the end to all this is finally nigh. Now his mood of anticipation and curiosity have all but died, to be replaced with resignation and silent despair. He knows that finding Spencer so drunk, and then finding him with such anger and hatred in his eyes, has all but killed his enthusiasm for love, for kisses and cuddles and whispered nothings.
He always admired the love he felt for Brendon. He was proud of it. He thought it unbeatable, irreplaceable. But he knows now, as he stares around him and tries to spot Brendon out of the few people walking past, that he has been so narrow-minded all these years. For all of his claims of freedom, he was more chained down than those with their conventional lives. He was the one with restrains. He was the one being held back. And now ... now he may be free of such an emotional bend - not completely, but free enough - because that beautiful blue-eyed man came and untied him.
Now that man is gone, Jon has fucked up, and the chain is still breaking. He's going to be more alone than ever and he's not sure how sane he'll be once it's all over. He lights a cigarette and takes a needy drag upon it, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Where's Brendon? He's been here ages now and there's still no sign of the boy. He exhales, smoothly, and watches the smoke filter away into the day with vague interest. It's almost surreal that he's about to lose the one boy he swore he could not live without.
"You came," comes a voice from behind him, laced with mild surprise. Jon turns and his hand pauses half-way through lifting a cigarette to his lips, breath catching in his throat. Oh. Oh God. It isn't Brendon, after all. It's Spencer, with a dark coat buttoned up to his chin, his hands in his pocket and his hair falling soft and beautiful into his eyes. Jon finds himself nodding, and Spencer motions to the door of the bar to their left. "Have a drink with me? Please?"
The last word is filled with such sincerity that Jon moves on automatic, nodding and holding the door open for Spencer. He thanks Jon quietly and silently moves towards the bar, hoisting himself up to take a seat at it. Jon sits next to him, too stunned and too scared to say anything that might fuck this all up again. Spencer looks perfectly at ease and orders a beer for Jon and some coke for himself. He pays, lifts his glass to his lips, and stares at Jon whilst taking a small sip.
"So," he says, setting the glass down and resting his head against a hand, its elbow pressed into the bar. "How have you been?"
"Me?" Jon asks, and blinks. "Um. Fine. I mean, not fine, but ... I've not been okay, but I am okay. I. I've just been, been missing you. I can't do this without you and everything is fucking up thanks to me ... but. Um. That's not what you asked. I've, um. I guess I've been ... lonely. And guilty. Very, very guilty."
Spencer nods, musingly, not so much as flinching at the mentions of guilt and loneliness. He just looks oddly thoughtful. "I see." He makes an agreeing noise and takes another sip, before glancing at Jon steadily. "Times that by ten."
"What?"
"However awful you're feeling, times that by ten."
Jon's eyes widen but Spencer just stares calmly back. After a pause, Jon shrugs and says, "Um ... okay?"
"How would you feel, all of that timed by ten?"
Jon hesitates and bows his head. "Pretty damn shitty."
"Pretty damn shitty indeed," Spencer agrees, with a slight laugh. "Well, that's how I feel."
Their eyes meet. Spencer looks deadly serious then. Slowly, Jon takes a large gulp of his beer, and thinks. He thinks hard. He's already had so much luck in Spencer so much as sitting next to him, and he can't fuck that up with emotion. He wouldn't purposefully fuck this up, not for the world. Tentatively, he gives Spencer the most apologetic look he can muster. "Would you forgive me if I said I was sorry?"
"No," Spencer replies, easily, and looks across the bar. His voice is in the same relaxed, unhurried tone as he admits, "I wouldn't forgive you if you offered me your heart on a silver platter. It's gone beyond that, Jon. Don't you understand how badly you've fucked up?"
"I, well ... yeah, but I only --"
"Only? Don't use a word like that with me." Spencer sighs and faces Jon again, his eyes searching. One of his hands gently cup Jon's jaw, tilting his chin upwards so that they're perfectly eye to eye. "I think I love you, Jon."
The confession is out before Jon can prepare for it. He closes his eyes and lurches forwards, ready to kiss the man, but Spencer's hand keeps him back. Slowly, Jon opens his eyes, and they're filled with questions and frustration. Wasn't that what Spencer was getting it? Fuck, he admitted that he was in love, and now Jon is doing wrong by trying to kiss him?
"No," Spencer commands, softly but firmly, and Jon feels the fight sag out of him. He's just tired. Just so, so tired. "This can't happen. Not ... not now. It's too soon."
"But, when?" Jon asks, well aware he's pleading now, and Spencer, for the first time, flinches. He lowers his hand and lets it fall into his lap, eyes on the polished surface on the bar. "When will you forgive me? When will you let me love you again?"
"I didn't come here to talk about us," Spencer says, firmly, as though he can't bear to think on Jon's words. Jon blinks, startled. "I came here to tell you something and to make sure ... well. Brendon is. Brendon is moving back into our house."
All thoughts of trying to win Spencer back fade from Jon's mind as the words sink in. He opens his mouth, draws a breath, and then closes it again. Spencer is watching him carefully, studying his reaction with a decidedly blank expression. Jon gapes at him, unable to really let himself believe. If Brendon is moving back in with Spencer and Ryan, that must mean that Brendon's decision has been made. If Brendon's decision has been made and Jon is sat here without him, if Jon is sitting here with a blank Spencer ... then Brendon has chosen Ryan.
Brendon is leaving him for Ryan.
"Oh," Jon replies, quietly. He looks down at the bar, stroking a finger slowly up and down the cold glass holding his beer, thinking on it. Maybe his heart has already been so messed around and broken, maybe he's already so dead inside from sadness, but, if truth be told, he doesn't really feel all that much except a stunned kind of resignation. Maybe he always knew that Brendon and him couldn't repair themselves and bring back what they once had. Maybe he knew, because this isn't hurting nearly as much as he thought it would.
"I'm not going to talk to him, just so you know," Spencer informs him, not taking his eyes from Jon's face. "I can't. He's done too much, fucked up too many times, and ... he can live with Ryan because he might save him, but if he does anything to break his heart again, he's out and I don't care how much Ryan 'needs' him."
"Oh," Jon repeats, and Spencer gives a small, mirthless laugh.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" He doesn't look triumphant, he just looks kind of sad, and so Jon doesn't take offense. The next thing he knows, Spencer is cupping his jaw again and staring into his eyes, searchingly. "You will be okay, won't you? That's why I came, instead of Brendon. I needed to make sure ... I needed to make sure you were okay, stable. I need to know you're not going to do anything stupid to yourself because of it."
"This" - Jon motions to himself, with a bitter smile - "is not okay. But I'm not about to go drive over a cliff or shoot my brains out, so don't worry."
"But I'm going to worry," Spencer sighs, softly, and leans forward to let his dry lips ghost over Jon's. Jon lets his eyes slip closed, breathing in Spencer's scent, terrified this might be the last time. The lips against his move, slowly. "I know why you did it. I know why you kissed him. I understand that how much I expected of you was too much. I caught you kissing him, and I still love you."
The smallest of moans of longing escapes Jon's lips, and Spencer closes his eyes. Their lips are so close together, but Jon doesn't dare move, doesn't dare do anything but pray to whatever god there may be that this moment lasts. That Spencer forgives him. That Spencer takes him back. "I love you," Jon lets out, in a terrified whisper, and Spencer sighs again. Their lips press together once, twice, and then Spencer is pulling back and brushing his hair from his eyes, his cheeks flooding with colour.
"No," he says, almost sternly. He stands up and downs the rest of his coke. Lowering it, he slams it onto the bar with a shaking hand. "No."
"But when?" Jon asks, desperately, standing up as well. The fingers of his left hand twist themselves into the fabric of Spencer's sleeve and their eyes meet, blue clashing against brown. "When? I'm sick of not knowing, Spence. Just ... I need to know something certain, for once. Brendon is Ryan's and you love me and I love you and yet ... not now? When, Spencer?"
"Soon," comes Spencer's only reply, and then he's pressing his lips desperately into Jon's, before hurrying out of the bar altogether and taking off down the street. Jon stares after him, but he doesn't feel desperate nor sad any longer. He's still blank, still apathetic, still shocked. Sinking back into his seat, he drinks the beer he forgot to offer to pay for, and let's his eyes scan the bar. There's a couple of young women working with tired smiles. He recognizes the place with a painful twinge. This was where William used to work, he suddenly remembers.
His eyes fall upon a small, taped up sign opposite him, amongst the bottles lining the wall. Barman urgently needed, ask a member of staff for details He lets his gaze fall down to his drink. The bubbles tease him with their movement, their freedom. With no Brendon, he has no freedom. He realizes that as suddenly and as swiftly as though a voice in his head just informed him. With Brendon gone, with Brendon in the armsheartlife of another, he's all alone. Spencer's promise rings in his ears and, in a moment, he's decided to call one of the waitresses over. To start again, to start afresh, to kick start his heart ... he's going to have to conform. He's going to need a job. What better job than the one that used to belong to his old best friend?
With a smile, he takes another sip of beer, and repeats, in a whisper, "Soon".
Author:
peopleexistingBeta:
my_0wn_madnessRating: 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.
Author Notes: At the end,
Flowers By The Fire previous chapters
Burnt Petals previous chapters
by
jokeonyouA week passes.
Shane does wonders for all of them. He only works in a modest, quiet electronics store, fixing cameras and polishing TV screens for people. His wages cover not only his mortgage, but food and warmth and water enough to keep all four of them satisfied. Jon goes out to play a guitar he borrowed from Gabe on street corners to help with the bill, and Gabe takes some out of his and William's savings, as he now says they're useless. Brendon paces around, restlessly, which doesn't really help financially, but nobody was expecting much from him anyway.
They had all been so excited about going. Spencer's drunken love and sober hatred had dampened Jon's spirits a fair bit, but all in all it just made him more eager to leave. Shane was a bit reluctant but eventually agreed. Pete took all of his cunning, slyness and sexual prowess to get Patrick to agree to leave his beloved job behind. Gabe was showing signs of emotion for the first time since William's death, smiling small, but very real, smiles.
But, then, Brendon came home and told them all quietly that they couldn't leave yet. He had to ensure Ryan would be okay and he wasn't moving an inch out of the city until it was certain the boy would make it. Jon had felt the relief and happiness ebb away bit by bit, and it didn't help that Brendon began to act really strange anyway. He was pulling away from Jon whenever Jon initiated the smallest of kisses. He was shying away from making plans with Gabe. He wasn't drinking, smoking, snorting. He was just moving around, looking stressed and somehow desperate, and he'd even cut down the amount he ate by a meal a day.
It would be an understatement to say that Jon is worried.
Of course, he has next to no idea as to what to do. He doesn't want to ignore the problem, but he's sure that Brendon would just leave the room if he tried to ask what was wrong. And so, he lets it continue, sharing uneasy looks with Shane and having whispered conversations with Gabe late at night. He watches as Brendon avoids his eye and hides in the corners, actually wringing his hands with worry.
News soon came to them that Ryan was going to be discharged from hospital very soon, and that Spencer had been heavily advised to take his friend to some kind of therapist. Jon felt a hell of a lot of guiltiness at this - how could Spencer's wages from Starbucks fund such therapy sessions, on top of hospital and domestic bills? The moment the date was set, a week since the actual suicide attempt, Brendon stood up and announced he was going round to talk to Ryan the moment he got home.
So, now Brendon is leaning against the doorframe and watching Jon, Gabe and Shane watch TV, trying to subtly button his coat up. Jon is no idiot, though; long he's paid attention to everything Brendon is doing, if out of fondness more than suspicion in the past. He turns his head slightly to lock their gazes over the back of the couch and Brendon's cheeks colour, as he bows his head.
"I have to," he pleads, quietly, bringing Shane and Gabe's attention to the scene at hand. He looks even more uncomfortable with two more people watching him but, determinedly, buttons up the last button, at his neck. Straightening up, he smoothes his hair down. "Don't look at me like that. There's things Ryan and I need to talk about."
"Like what?" Gabe asks, looking to be genuinely at a loss. "You can't let him forgive you. You can't go back to him, not after all this."
Brendon's eyes fire with something indescribable but then it fades, to be replaced by his usual innocent curiosity and seductiveness. "Don't say things like that to me. This doesn't involve you and I'm not promising anything. I just need to go see him."
He turns to the door but pauses as Jon calls, "So, you are leaving me for him again? After ... after everything, you've changed your mind again?" He stands up and slowly walks towards the boy, tone flat and empty. His dark eyes meet Brendon's beautiful ones, and he steadily ignores the rush of emotion he feels deep within. "Brendon ... are you going to do this again? Are you going to leave me?"
Brendon's bottom lip actually trembles as he looks down at the floor. "I ... I don't know."
"You need to know," Jon replies, somewhat viciously, but he can't find it within himself to care. He's tired of this, tired of having his heart be passed around, tired of not knowing. Even the worse scenario would be better than this uneasiness, this lack of resolve. "I'm not going to do it again, Brendon. I swear, I am not going to take you back if you choose Ryan this time."
"That's not fair," Brendon whispers, moving his clasped hands to his chest and looking upset. "You can't make me choose like this."
"I can," Jon spits back, passion inflicting every note of his voice. "I can, and I will. You go to him and you tell him you love him, or you tell him that you love me. Then you call me up or come home and tell me what you've chosen and something can get done. I'm tired here, Brendon, I'm tethered. I can't 'save' myself, like you wanted, want, whatever, not until you make a decision. I won't wait forever, Brendon, and I doubt Ryan will either."
He finishes and finds it suddenly hard to catch his breath. He's dooming himself, he knows, he's certain. Brendon will go there, on his orders, and confess deep, "true" love to the bandaged, weak Ryan, and then who knows, maybe Spencer will let Brendon back to keep Ryan happy and the three of them will live together and eat together and laugh together and ... and love together.
"I love you," Brendon whispers, lips next to his ear, and then he's hurrying out of the door and shutting the door gently behind him. Jon watches him go with a sour taste in his mouth, ignoring the tears that are threatening. He should be relieved that this will soon be over, that that he will soon be able to think about his future without the shadowy, uncertain figure of one Brendon Urie by his side. He'll either be happy or he'll be torn apart. But at least he won't be drowning in uncertainty anymore, right?
A warm, comforting hand slips into his and he looks up to see Gabe smiling at him, sadly, wisely.
"He's going to leave me," Jon whispers, suddenly, and suddenly Shane has taken his other hand.
"Maybe," he confesses, calmly, and Jon lets out a moan of actual, physical pain. The word is like a twist in the heart. Shane squeezes his hand and sighs, lightly, "but all is not lost if he does."
"Of course it is," Jon murmurs. They don't understand, and they'll never be able to. "I love him. He's my everything. What will I have?"
"You'll have us," Gabe reminds him and, as the silence stretches on and on, Gabe and Shane only grip his hands tighter.
*
He gets text nearly two hours later.
i need to talk to you. meet me by Candy's asap. xxx
Jon stands outside Candy's Bar and keeps his arms crossed. He came as soon as the text arrived, as soon as he realized that the end to all this is finally nigh. Now his mood of anticipation and curiosity have all but died, to be replaced with resignation and silent despair. He knows that finding Spencer so drunk, and then finding him with such anger and hatred in his eyes, has all but killed his enthusiasm for love, for kisses and cuddles and whispered nothings.
He always admired the love he felt for Brendon. He was proud of it. He thought it unbeatable, irreplaceable. But he knows now, as he stares around him and tries to spot Brendon out of the few people walking past, that he has been so narrow-minded all these years. For all of his claims of freedom, he was more chained down than those with their conventional lives. He was the one with restrains. He was the one being held back. And now ... now he may be free of such an emotional bend - not completely, but free enough - because that beautiful blue-eyed man came and untied him.
Now that man is gone, Jon has fucked up, and the chain is still breaking. He's going to be more alone than ever and he's not sure how sane he'll be once it's all over. He lights a cigarette and takes a needy drag upon it, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Where's Brendon? He's been here ages now and there's still no sign of the boy. He exhales, smoothly, and watches the smoke filter away into the day with vague interest. It's almost surreal that he's about to lose the one boy he swore he could not live without.
"You came," comes a voice from behind him, laced with mild surprise. Jon turns and his hand pauses half-way through lifting a cigarette to his lips, breath catching in his throat. Oh. Oh God. It isn't Brendon, after all. It's Spencer, with a dark coat buttoned up to his chin, his hands in his pocket and his hair falling soft and beautiful into his eyes. Jon finds himself nodding, and Spencer motions to the door of the bar to their left. "Have a drink with me? Please?"
The last word is filled with such sincerity that Jon moves on automatic, nodding and holding the door open for Spencer. He thanks Jon quietly and silently moves towards the bar, hoisting himself up to take a seat at it. Jon sits next to him, too stunned and too scared to say anything that might fuck this all up again. Spencer looks perfectly at ease and orders a beer for Jon and some coke for himself. He pays, lifts his glass to his lips, and stares at Jon whilst taking a small sip.
"So," he says, setting the glass down and resting his head against a hand, its elbow pressed into the bar. "How have you been?"
"Me?" Jon asks, and blinks. "Um. Fine. I mean, not fine, but ... I've not been okay, but I am okay. I. I've just been, been missing you. I can't do this without you and everything is fucking up thanks to me ... but. Um. That's not what you asked. I've, um. I guess I've been ... lonely. And guilty. Very, very guilty."
Spencer nods, musingly, not so much as flinching at the mentions of guilt and loneliness. He just looks oddly thoughtful. "I see." He makes an agreeing noise and takes another sip, before glancing at Jon steadily. "Times that by ten."
"What?"
"However awful you're feeling, times that by ten."
Jon's eyes widen but Spencer just stares calmly back. After a pause, Jon shrugs and says, "Um ... okay?"
"How would you feel, all of that timed by ten?"
Jon hesitates and bows his head. "Pretty damn shitty."
"Pretty damn shitty indeed," Spencer agrees, with a slight laugh. "Well, that's how I feel."
Their eyes meet. Spencer looks deadly serious then. Slowly, Jon takes a large gulp of his beer, and thinks. He thinks hard. He's already had so much luck in Spencer so much as sitting next to him, and he can't fuck that up with emotion. He wouldn't purposefully fuck this up, not for the world. Tentatively, he gives Spencer the most apologetic look he can muster. "Would you forgive me if I said I was sorry?"
"No," Spencer replies, easily, and looks across the bar. His voice is in the same relaxed, unhurried tone as he admits, "I wouldn't forgive you if you offered me your heart on a silver platter. It's gone beyond that, Jon. Don't you understand how badly you've fucked up?"
"I, well ... yeah, but I only --"
"Only? Don't use a word like that with me." Spencer sighs and faces Jon again, his eyes searching. One of his hands gently cup Jon's jaw, tilting his chin upwards so that they're perfectly eye to eye. "I think I love you, Jon."
The confession is out before Jon can prepare for it. He closes his eyes and lurches forwards, ready to kiss the man, but Spencer's hand keeps him back. Slowly, Jon opens his eyes, and they're filled with questions and frustration. Wasn't that what Spencer was getting it? Fuck, he admitted that he was in love, and now Jon is doing wrong by trying to kiss him?
"No," Spencer commands, softly but firmly, and Jon feels the fight sag out of him. He's just tired. Just so, so tired. "This can't happen. Not ... not now. It's too soon."
"But, when?" Jon asks, well aware he's pleading now, and Spencer, for the first time, flinches. He lowers his hand and lets it fall into his lap, eyes on the polished surface on the bar. "When will you forgive me? When will you let me love you again?"
"I didn't come here to talk about us," Spencer says, firmly, as though he can't bear to think on Jon's words. Jon blinks, startled. "I came here to tell you something and to make sure ... well. Brendon is. Brendon is moving back into our house."
All thoughts of trying to win Spencer back fade from Jon's mind as the words sink in. He opens his mouth, draws a breath, and then closes it again. Spencer is watching him carefully, studying his reaction with a decidedly blank expression. Jon gapes at him, unable to really let himself believe. If Brendon is moving back in with Spencer and Ryan, that must mean that Brendon's decision has been made. If Brendon's decision has been made and Jon is sat here without him, if Jon is sitting here with a blank Spencer ... then Brendon has chosen Ryan.
Brendon is leaving him for Ryan.
"Oh," Jon replies, quietly. He looks down at the bar, stroking a finger slowly up and down the cold glass holding his beer, thinking on it. Maybe his heart has already been so messed around and broken, maybe he's already so dead inside from sadness, but, if truth be told, he doesn't really feel all that much except a stunned kind of resignation. Maybe he always knew that Brendon and him couldn't repair themselves and bring back what they once had. Maybe he knew, because this isn't hurting nearly as much as he thought it would.
"I'm not going to talk to him, just so you know," Spencer informs him, not taking his eyes from Jon's face. "I can't. He's done too much, fucked up too many times, and ... he can live with Ryan because he might save him, but if he does anything to break his heart again, he's out and I don't care how much Ryan 'needs' him."
"Oh," Jon repeats, and Spencer gives a small, mirthless laugh.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" He doesn't look triumphant, he just looks kind of sad, and so Jon doesn't take offense. The next thing he knows, Spencer is cupping his jaw again and staring into his eyes, searchingly. "You will be okay, won't you? That's why I came, instead of Brendon. I needed to make sure ... I needed to make sure you were okay, stable. I need to know you're not going to do anything stupid to yourself because of it."
"This" - Jon motions to himself, with a bitter smile - "is not okay. But I'm not about to go drive over a cliff or shoot my brains out, so don't worry."
"But I'm going to worry," Spencer sighs, softly, and leans forward to let his dry lips ghost over Jon's. Jon lets his eyes slip closed, breathing in Spencer's scent, terrified this might be the last time. The lips against his move, slowly. "I know why you did it. I know why you kissed him. I understand that how much I expected of you was too much. I caught you kissing him, and I still love you."
The smallest of moans of longing escapes Jon's lips, and Spencer closes his eyes. Their lips are so close together, but Jon doesn't dare move, doesn't dare do anything but pray to whatever god there may be that this moment lasts. That Spencer forgives him. That Spencer takes him back. "I love you," Jon lets out, in a terrified whisper, and Spencer sighs again. Their lips press together once, twice, and then Spencer is pulling back and brushing his hair from his eyes, his cheeks flooding with colour.
"No," he says, almost sternly. He stands up and downs the rest of his coke. Lowering it, he slams it onto the bar with a shaking hand. "No."
"But when?" Jon asks, desperately, standing up as well. The fingers of his left hand twist themselves into the fabric of Spencer's sleeve and their eyes meet, blue clashing against brown. "When? I'm sick of not knowing, Spence. Just ... I need to know something certain, for once. Brendon is Ryan's and you love me and I love you and yet ... not now? When, Spencer?"
"Soon," comes Spencer's only reply, and then he's pressing his lips desperately into Jon's, before hurrying out of the bar altogether and taking off down the street. Jon stares after him, but he doesn't feel desperate nor sad any longer. He's still blank, still apathetic, still shocked. Sinking back into his seat, he drinks the beer he forgot to offer to pay for, and let's his eyes scan the bar. There's a couple of young women working with tired smiles. He recognizes the place with a painful twinge. This was where William used to work, he suddenly remembers.
His eyes fall upon a small, taped up sign opposite him, amongst the bottles lining the wall. Barman urgently needed, ask a member of staff for details He lets his gaze fall down to his drink. The bubbles tease him with their movement, their freedom. With no Brendon, he has no freedom. He realizes that as suddenly and as swiftly as though a voice in his head just informed him. With Brendon gone, with Brendon in the armsheartlife of another, he's all alone. Spencer's promise rings in his ears and, in a moment, he's decided to call one of the waitresses over. To start again, to start afresh, to kick start his heart ... he's going to have to conform. He's going to need a job. What better job than the one that used to belong to his old best friend?
With a smile, he takes another sip of beer, and repeats, in a whisper, "Soon".
