(I Watch) The Sky Coming Down To Bury Me - Chapter 4 & 5
Header and Prologues
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four & Five - Chapter Six, Seven & Eight
Bonus Content
Chapter 4: All This Pain Gets Me High
Ryan's only been back in London a day when he's called into his tutor's office to get the details of his next assignment. He'd left the forms with her over the Christmas break and is looking forward to finding out if he's going to get the writer he requested.
After a twenty minute session, Ryan comes out of the office with an address in hand and a smile on his face. He calls the writer he's been assigned to whilst he's walking back to his dorm room. He picks up after almost exactly three rings.
"Pete Wentz, what's your pleasure?" Ryan laughs a little into the phone and begins the single greatest conversation in his entire life. Two days later, he's sitting in Pete Wentz's living room looking at the biggest bookcase he's seen since he left New York. He's been looking for copies of the other man's plays, and is slightly discouraged to see them on the bottom shelf under some broken CD cases.
"I don't have anyone who actually wants to display them, so on the bottom shelf they go." Ryan smiles up at him, thinking about Spencer proudly putting Ryan's manuscripts in between the Murakami and Palahniuk. "Anyway, you're not here to talk about my pathetic life. Let's talk about my new play, shall we?"
"I don't mind," Ryan says, scratching his forehead a little and trying not to squeal in happiness. "I mean, yes, let's do that." Pete laughs a loud braying laugh and pats Ryan gently on the head, then flings himself into the armchair adjacent to where Ryan is sitting and picks up a crumpled, coffee-ring stained manuscript.
It's different, but with the same Wentzian tone that Ryan's found in his other plays. It's definitely new subject material for him, because unlike Ryan's, Pete's writing tends to be based around the heartache that he's gone through his whole life. It's clear from the first scene, disjointed sentences about the gleam of wedding rings and preaching electric to a microphone stand. There's still that one long monologue that has no stage directions or characters, just like the one Ryan fell in love with trying to interpret the first time he saw a Wentz play in production.
Pete just sits there biting his fingernails and pulling the nail varnish off them, not anxiously so much as in expectation of his own failure. He seems convinced that it's going to be terrible and keeps saying that he could just 'take that middle part out right there' and replace it with 'something more… you know… crowd pleasing'. Ryan doesn't want to tell him that his plays aren't exactly crowd pleasing normally.
**
It's hard to describe how he feels about Pete. He is nearer his age than most of the other students, but further away personality-wise. He's loud, abrasive and has no concept of personal space - while, surprisingly, most of the drama students do - but after reading all of his scripts Ryan knows that sometimes the smile doesn't reach his eyes because he doesn't want to be smiling.
The scripts are usually centred on things that seem to be part of his life and how much he wants to be rid of them. But this new one, it's different. Ryan can tell that it was about something Pete never wants to let go of, and that's love. He smiles to himself as he picks up coffee for the two of them. It's definitely a script that he wants to work with.
When Samantha first told him which writer out of the small list they'd compiled he'd be working with, Ryan couldn't say he'd been surprised. Ryan knew Pete's writing from before he'd come to England, had seen off-off-Broadway versions of his better selling plays and had copies of the original prints stacked up in his apartment. Out of all the contemporary playwrights, Ryan knew that Pete Wentz had probably influenced his attempts at writing more than anyone.
People always tell him that meeting your heroes is a bad idea. Ryan has never disagreed with them, but meeting Pete didn't change anything. He was separate from his plays, which made it easier for Ryan to take his advice without feeling like it was law.
When he gets to Pete's apartment, he's already standing outside with a cigarette in his hand. He looks at Ryan but says nothing until he is standing right next to him.
"Ready to get working, kid?" Ryan laughs, low in his throat. Pete smiles, flicks his cigarette down and stamps it out under his shoe. They walk up to the apartment together and Pete takes a seat at the dining room table, where the manuscript is spread out.
**
Somehow, he knows that being really drunk and upset with someone that he's only just met isn't the best idea. But with his face pressed against Pete's chest and his arms wrapped around his thin body, it feels a little better. Pete isn't the spider monkey that Brendon is, and Ryan knows that it won't lead anywhere. He's content to be in someone's arms without feeling like he needs to be somewhere else.
Pete pets his hair and starts talking about absolutely nothing that matters to Ryan. Not until the name Patrick becomes a part of almost every sentence.
"He's just, he's such a brilliant musician. He's so amazing. I mean, Patrick can play anything he's wants to play. He's gorgeous when he plays, you know?" It's at this point that Ryan sits up and watches how Pete changes when he's talking about Patrick. He picks up the script that they'd been working with before the drinking has started. He flicked through, stopping half way through the booklet.
"Pete, Pete," Ryan placed his hand on Pete's shoulder to stop him talking. "Is this about him?" Pete looks up and smiles at Ryan. He pats his head lightly, taking the script and putting it back on the table. When he looks up again, the fire in Pete's eyes has dulled and his smile is weak.
"Who else was it going to be about?" Ryan smiles gently and leans back against the sofa arm. He knows how Pete feels. The one thing that critics find unbelievable about Ryan's plays is that in most of them, there is a solid, stable love interest that stays alongside the main character no matter what happens.
"I cheated on my solid love interest." Pete looks up from the bottle he's pouring a drink from and puts them both down on the table. He turns to face Ryan and looks at him, trying to make his mouth work in the right way.
"If I… I think you need to win him back." Ryan laughs a little hoarsely and pats the hand that is resting on his leg.
"I don't think real life works like that, Pete. Sorry." He stops, looks at Pete for a second, and then shrugs, speaking more quietly, "He forgave me anyway." Ryan shakes his head and rubs his dry eyes with the heel of his hand. "I don't think he forgot about it though. I love him." Pete pulls on Ryan's arm until he leans back into him and together they moan about how their lives are not want they want them to be.
**
He's on the phone to Spencer when Pete comes by with the finished version of the script. Pete waits quietly on the sofa until Ryan says goodbye. He plugs his phone back into the charger and when he turns back to Pete, Pete is smiling smugly. Ryan sits down on the other side of the sofa and crosses his legs under him.
"So that's the love interest then?" Ryan laughs a little, but nods all the same.
"My boyfriend." Pete smiles again, a little smaller and a lot less genuine. Ryan thinks that maybe Patrick's not everything that Pete wants him to be. He doesn't bring Spencer up again, all the same. "So, let's have a look at the finished product." Pete grabs his bag from the table in front of him and rummages through it. He brings the manuscript out, and then pulls a few more pages out. It's a little ripped, but it looks finished.
"The pages are all numbered, so you can just slot in the extra pages." Ryan flicks through it, and then finds the last page he read. It looks like there's only one more scene afterward, and by the title - The After Party and the After Life - he knows that it's not going to be the ending that he's expecting. Ryan wanted Pete to write something positive, something that Pete wanted to happen to him. But the main character leaves his love interest behind because he didn't want to destroy her life.
Ryan sighs and puts the script down on the table, turning towards Pete. "You didn't like it?" He sighs again, because there's no real way to tell Pete what he should have written. The ending seems right for the story; it ties everything together and makes the parts that Ryan was concerned about work. There's no way that Pete could write anything else that meant this much or that worked this well. Even so, he had wanted to see a happy ending to something.
"I loved it. It was perfect." Pete smiles half-heartedly and gets up. He goes to the kitchen to make coffee and brings it back. It's taken him quite a while to get used to making coffee the way that Ryan likes it. "I just wish you'd written it as though you wanted Patrick to come back." Pete squirms a little after sitting down and shrugs. Ryan knows that he doesn't know what to say, so he drops it. "I like the reference to The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore. At the end, with the mobile. It works."
"I don't know. Well, it's finished. A friend's friend has a company that's going to put it on." Ryan smiles and reaches across to pat Pete on the back. This is good. Pete's not had a play in production since the last one's opening two years ago. He's happy that Pete has something to look forward to. "Patrick said that he can't come back for the opening." Ryan doesn't know what to say to that, what Pete wants and what he's able to have aren't the same thing, and although the difference is bigger in the writer's head than in reality, it's still there. Ryan can't help noticing bits of himself in Pete.
Chapter 5: I Can't Stop Playing With You Baby
Ryan honestly never realised how much work went into being a tech. He knew that they were always in the theatre when he arrived and that one of them was always the last to leave. He just didn't realise that the people that were there in the morning were also the people that closed up at night. He thought that they'd worked shifts or something, anything more humane than the constant work that everyone seems to be doing around him.
Because of his lack of experience, Ryan has been relegated to dog's body, which he's used to doing. His entire day is full of changing filters, changing them back, moving lights, fetching people and getting coffee for the other techs. He doesn't mind doing this, because it means that occasionally one of the techs will be able to sit down with him and explain what this button does and why mobile phones screw up the sound system.
The techs are working on three productions at the moment: one Shakespeare piece by a group of first-years, which Brendon is involved with; one naturalistic piece by August Strindberg; and the piece that he's been attached to, Fear and Misery in the Third Reich. After running around the theatre for three days, he knows why he's been attached to Fear and Misery. The other two productions only need one tech to be there all the time, because the lighting and sound are relatively simple once they have been set up.
He's fetching coffee for the Strindberg group, as well as his own, when Brendon appears next to him. He holds his hands out for some of the cups and Ryan passes them over gladly. They walk back together to the theatre, Ryan drinking his own coffee in gulps whilst Brendon watches, laughing.
When he's finished, he turns to Brendon and smiles apologetically at him. "I'm the best friend ever." Brendon laughs again, but Ryan continues, "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. It's kind of a really unsociable life, being a tech."
"It's alright. I'm kind of busy with this play anyway, so it's not like I'd be around even if you were." Ryan leans into Brendon, bumping their shoulders together as they walk. "Hey, hey, hot coffee here." When they reach the theatre, Brendon hands the cups back to Ryan and presses a kiss to his forehead. Ryan shakes his head and goes to deliver the coffee to his waiting group.
**
About half way through the production, Jon starts turning up to rehearsals. Then parts of the set are put up and Ryan's coffee list no longer includes the Strindberg group but a whole new group of people. Jon introduces them briefly to Ryan as the rest of the production team, and that's it. The lighting is fixed in place for the last time, the sound is handled by the senior tech and Ryan's asked to help take measurements for this and to go out and get some more wood glue because the stuff they've got apparently isn't good enough.
It takes Ryan almost a week to realise that, in fact, he's doing all this out of the goodness of his heart, because there is always a production team member lounging around half asleep. He starts bringing a book to the rehearsals, and sits at the back of the lighting box instead of in the theatre seats. The production team doesn't seem to notice he's missing at all. Occasionally Jon will come and sit with him when there's nothing to do, but he never asks for help again.
He goes out for a drink with the techs the night before the production is due to begin and they toast him, saying how good he's been to them. "Usually, the directing students sit there and ignore anything we ask them to do unless their tutor is around," says Andy, the senior technician - who is the teacher, but hates being called a lecturer, and in all honesty has too many tattoos for Ryan to take him seriously as a teacher - his glass raised to Ryan, who is blushing profusely. "Three cheers for a good dog's body." And they do cheer for him, in a strange hyper yet mostly sober way.
The production team turn up later that night and they sit at the next table over. Ryan notices that the two teams don't seem to talk to each other past a terse greeting, and, when his group leaves, they all look at him strangely as he says goodbye to Jon.
"Hey, Jon? We going to see Brendon's thing on Friday?" Jon nods quickly and waves Ryan off before turning back to his team, who have become quiet in the short conversation.
When he gets outside, Joe pulls him off to the side and asks him how he knows Jon. Ryan tells him about Brendon and his acting classes, and Joe claps a hand to his shoulder.
"You know that the production team aren't exactly in our good books, right?" When Ryan shakes his head a little in response, Joe nods and sighs. "Come on, I'll explain." The explanation turns out to be fairly simple: Andy and the head production lecturer, Nick, had an argument over the production team using the theatre to make sets, rather than the workshop. Apparently, Andy had to spend a weekend cleaning the main floor and resurfacing it after he had let them in because the workshop had been too busy. When he'd asked Nick for the money out of the production budget, the other man had denied knowledge of the situation at all.
Ryan makes a note to talk to Jon about grudges and how they are bad for stress levels.
**
Two days into Spencer's stay, Brendon turns up at the door with a French film and a bottle of wine, thrusts them into Ryan's hand and proceeds to drag Spencer out the door without a single word. Once they get him to sit down and breathe, he explains.
"I just thought that Spencer isn't going to get to go out in London as a single guy, ever. So I figure you can take a few hours apart - which is what the wine and film are about, yes, I do listen to you, Ryan - and I can take Spencer out for a drink." Ryan goes to speak, but Brendon cuts him off. "And before you say that you've only got a few days together, blah blah blah, I don't want to hear it. I'm taking him out and you can suck it up. No-one wants to watch your strange films. Not even Spencer." With that he stands, taking Spencer's arm once more. "We're going. Goodbye." Spencer shrugs and lets himself be pulled out, laughing as he goes. Ryan only shakes his head, picking up the film from the table where he'd put it after Brendon had given it to him.
He smiles gently, recognising the cover almost instantly. Rififi. Ryan already has this movie in New York and on the shelf next to the TV in front of him. It was probably one of the only films that Brendon could remember Ryan mentioning and could get at the last minute. He smiles and puts the movie in, then goes to fetch a wine glass from the kitchen. It's the best thing he has to do whilst he's home alone.
It's been a long time since he's watched this movie, but he remembers it well enough. Ryan curls his legs under him, pours himself a glass of wine and sits back to watch.
He's just watching Cesar take Viviane's ring from the store when the buzzer sounds. He pauses the movie and goes to check who it is. Jon's voice comes through the speaker and Ryan smiles a little despite himself. He lets Jon up and waits by the door for him. Five minutes later, Jon's sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine in hand and is waiting for Ryan to join him.
Ryan clicks the DVD into its case and goes to sit next to Jon. "Haven't seen you in a while. The production team still think I'm a tech?" Jon's laughs nervously and scratches the side of his face. He doesn't know what to say to Ryan, in fact he hadn't come to see Ryan at all. He'd come to see Spencer, and this just makes it harder.
"Um... actually, no. I know Spencer's in England for the week and I wanted to come see him." Ryan puts his glass back on the table and sits up properly to look at Jon.
"Why would you want to do that, Jon?" Ryan stands, moving away from the sofa and away from Jon. "What business do you have with him?" Jon gets up to follow Ryan, but stops when he sees the cold expression on his face.
"Because of you. What am I meant to do? Pretend like it's all ok because your boyfriend doesn't know?" Ryan shakes his head and turns away. "It's not fair, Ryan."
"He knows. Brendon told him at Christmas." Jon moves towards Ryan, and grabs hold of his shoulders. "You can't just... ruin this for me. You can't do that." Ryan says, turning into Jon's arms, to look at him properly.
"It's not fair for me. Not for him." Jon surges closer and presses his lips to Ryan's. He tries to pull back, to move away and then stops. This is Jon, the person who'd been Ryan's only close friend in England other than Brendon. His only sane friend, at the very least. He's been around when Spencer hasn't, he's part of Ryan's new life. Ryan settles into Jon's arms and lets it happen.
**
Jon is curled against his back, mostly naked and talking quietly into his ear. It's comfortable and everything Ryan had wanted. But it feels wrong, it feels so very wrong and there's nothing Ryan can do about it. He knows that Brendon and Spencer will be back soon and he's got to get up. He's got to get the smell of sex off him. Jon's got to go.
"Spencer will be back soon, won't he?" Jon asks, stroking his hand down Ryan's arm. He tilts his head down to kiss his shoulder and then lets go so that Ryan can sit up. Jon sits up beside him and reaches underneath the coffee table to get his clothes. "We'll talk later, ok?"
"I think now. I think now would be good." Ryan turns to Jon, his hands clasped on his knees. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to explain. But I love Spencer. I love him with all of my heart and I don't know why I keep doing this. Why I keep letting myself do this. With you." Jon stands, trying to pull on his trousers whilst walking towards the door. He doesn't say anything to Ryan until he's standing next to the door and shoving his feet into his shoes.
"How can you think that this is ok? That I'm just going to let you screw me over. Who fucking cares about him?" Jon laughs sarcastically. "Well, you obviously do." Ryan gets up and goes to walk towards him. "No, don't. Don't even fucking try."
He opens the door and slams it behind him. Ryan stands there, half naked in the middle of the floor and lets his shoulders sink. Then he turns and picks up his clothes, heading to the bathroom. Spencer will be home soon.
**
Ryan doesn't mean to tell Spencer this time, just as Brendon hadn't meant to. They are curled up watching a horror film. Neither of them sees much point in going to bed this evening, knowing that they'll be able to sleep on the plane to New York. All their things are already packed and down in the car, because Spencer knows how much of a bitch Ryan can be in the morning and he doesn't want to deal with that.
"I always miss you." Spencer looks from the screen to Ryan, only to see him staring at the television instead. The light flickers on his face, emphasizing the shadows and making it seem 2D. "Even when you're here. It's not the same as it used to be. I want to be back in Queens. Anywhere that's not here."
"Hey, hey, I thought you liked England. You're always talking about how pretty it is, and how much you're going to miss it when you come back." Ryan breathes out sharply and turns his face away from Spencer.
"I do. I do. But I can't stay here alone anymore. I'll just fuck up again. I can't lose you, Spencer. I don't know what I'd do." He feels Spencer move away and closes his eyes as tight as he can. He can pretend it won't happen if he doesn't see it. Then Spencer's hands are on his jaw, and his eyes open to see Spencer looking at him. He can't quite see what's going on in his eyes, but he has a fairly good idea.
"I'm never gonna leave you, Ryan. You can keep pushing and pushing and I'll keep being the wall. I'm staying. Even if this, me and you, doesn't work out, you're not getting rid of me that easy." It's then that Ryan starts crying. He doesn't notice until Spencer's thumbs are swiping at his cheeks, and then he just cries harder. It turns into sobs, and it's all Ryan can do to keep breathing through them.
"I slept with Jon. Again. While you were here. This week." It takes Spencer a moment to put all the words that Ryan's saying into an actual sentence, but he gets there. He can't seem to move, and Ryan's hands are grasping at his fingers, trying to get some kind of hold on him. The next few seconds all blur together, and all of a sudden there are tears rolling down his face and he is next to the door into the bathroom. Ryan is sprawled over the couch, trying to hold himself together, when it feels like the sobs are breaking him apart.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Ryan? You bastard, you motherfucking bastard." He bangs his fist against the door jamb and swears under his breath. "You - you - I can't even… Shit." He turns his head away from Ryan, staring into nothingness, and narrows his eyes.
"I'm sorry - I'm so sorry, Spence. Please, god, please." Spencer lets out a cry of anger and turns back to face Ryan, who has propped himself against the edge of the sofa. His whole body is shaking, and his arms are wrapped around himself.
"Please what, Ryan? Please what?" Ryan curls over and buries his head in his hands; he's never felt like this before. "What am I meant to do with this? Just say "it's ok" again? I can't do that." He lowers his voice, and turns to rest his head on the door frame. "I can't do that again, Ryan." Then Ryan's stumbling over to him, putting his hands on Spencer's chest, his face, his arms, anywhere that he can reach. Spencer shoves him away, and he lands on the floor with a crash. Ryan curls his knees under him and leans up to Spencer's legs, holding onto them so tightly that Spencer has trouble standing.
"I love you. I love you, not him. I just, I needed you and he was there. Please, please don't leave me. Don't leave me here." Spencer puts his hands to his face and cries into them, the only thing he can think to do. Ryan's face is pressed against his thigh and he can feel the tears soaking through his thin pyjama bottoms. He doesn't know how to feel or what to do. Spencer just wants this to never have happened. He wants to be back in New York, with Ryan, in their bed, but when he opens his eyes, all he can see is the shitty apartment and the light of the flickering TV.
"You can't just - say that and make it better. You can't…" Spencer can feel Ryan's hand reaching up his chest and pulling on the sides of his shirt. He doesn't know what Ryan is doing, he can't begin to think, but he lets him. "I won't let you just make it better with words. I'm not allowed to, so why are you? Why you?" He cries out again and slams his flat hand onto the bathroom counter. "No more words, Ryan."
Spencer pulls Ryan to his feet by his wrist. They are near enough to the wall that Ryan's body makes a solid sound as it collides with the brickwork. Then Spencer's at his neck, biting, licking, sucking. Tears are still slipping down Ryan's face as he grasps at Spencer's hair, pulling him up to his wet mouth. The kiss is fierce, more teeth pushing against teeth. Ryan lifts his leg around Spencer's waist and is pulled up against him, grappling for support.
Spencer turns and throws him onto the sofa, undoing his jeans and pushing them off before climbing over him. Ryan shimmies his trousers down as best he can, and wraps his legs over Spencer's waist. He pulls their faces together, then growls, "Turn over," teeth bared.
Ryan pushes him away, looking into his eyes and scowling back. "No," he snarls, blinking the tears away. He pulls his boxers off, momentarily letting go of Spencer, then pushes Spencer's down. Ryan sucks two fingers into his mouth, getting them slick with saliva, then pushes one inside. He keeps going, adding another after a moment. He sucks his lip into his mouth, locking eyes with Spencer. Once Ryan can feel himself relaxing, he spits into his hand and grasps Spencer's cock. Spencer pushes him off and lifts Ryan's hips up, shoving a pillow underneath.
Then Spencer's in him and Ryan's begging him to go faster, harder. He feels water drip onto him, and goes to wipe the sweat from Spencer's face, only to find his eyes closed and tears hanging from his eyelashes.
"You're not his," Ryan hears him whisper, barely any noise at all. He pushes up into Spencer's grip, choking out the only reassurance he can give.
"I'm yours." And then it's over, Spencer's moving away and Ryan's left to deal with himself. Spencer doesn't stay; he grabs his coat and goes to check into a hotel before Ryan has even stumbled into the bathroom to clean himself up.
Ryan doesn't sleep that night; he doesn't even try. He just sits in the living room staring at the TV and waiting for Spencer to walk through the door and kiss away his tears. By the time the clock clicks to four, Ryan's curled up on the sofa, his head on the arm, and a blanket half spread over him. By four thirty, Spencer's sat on the end of a bed in a dark room, head in his hands and tears pouring down his face.
Part Six, Seven & Eight
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four & Five - Chapter Six, Seven & Eight
Bonus Content
Chapter 4: All This Pain Gets Me High
Ryan's only been back in London a day when he's called into his tutor's office to get the details of his next assignment. He'd left the forms with her over the Christmas break and is looking forward to finding out if he's going to get the writer he requested.
After a twenty minute session, Ryan comes out of the office with an address in hand and a smile on his face. He calls the writer he's been assigned to whilst he's walking back to his dorm room. He picks up after almost exactly three rings.
"Pete Wentz, what's your pleasure?" Ryan laughs a little into the phone and begins the single greatest conversation in his entire life. Two days later, he's sitting in Pete Wentz's living room looking at the biggest bookcase he's seen since he left New York. He's been looking for copies of the other man's plays, and is slightly discouraged to see them on the bottom shelf under some broken CD cases.
"I don't have anyone who actually wants to display them, so on the bottom shelf they go." Ryan smiles up at him, thinking about Spencer proudly putting Ryan's manuscripts in between the Murakami and Palahniuk. "Anyway, you're not here to talk about my pathetic life. Let's talk about my new play, shall we?"
"I don't mind," Ryan says, scratching his forehead a little and trying not to squeal in happiness. "I mean, yes, let's do that." Pete laughs a loud braying laugh and pats Ryan gently on the head, then flings himself into the armchair adjacent to where Ryan is sitting and picks up a crumpled, coffee-ring stained manuscript.
It's different, but with the same Wentzian tone that Ryan's found in his other plays. It's definitely new subject material for him, because unlike Ryan's, Pete's writing tends to be based around the heartache that he's gone through his whole life. It's clear from the first scene, disjointed sentences about the gleam of wedding rings and preaching electric to a microphone stand. There's still that one long monologue that has no stage directions or characters, just like the one Ryan fell in love with trying to interpret the first time he saw a Wentz play in production.
Pete just sits there biting his fingernails and pulling the nail varnish off them, not anxiously so much as in expectation of his own failure. He seems convinced that it's going to be terrible and keeps saying that he could just 'take that middle part out right there' and replace it with 'something more… you know… crowd pleasing'. Ryan doesn't want to tell him that his plays aren't exactly crowd pleasing normally.
**
It's hard to describe how he feels about Pete. He is nearer his age than most of the other students, but further away personality-wise. He's loud, abrasive and has no concept of personal space - while, surprisingly, most of the drama students do - but after reading all of his scripts Ryan knows that sometimes the smile doesn't reach his eyes because he doesn't want to be smiling.
The scripts are usually centred on things that seem to be part of his life and how much he wants to be rid of them. But this new one, it's different. Ryan can tell that it was about something Pete never wants to let go of, and that's love. He smiles to himself as he picks up coffee for the two of them. It's definitely a script that he wants to work with.
When Samantha first told him which writer out of the small list they'd compiled he'd be working with, Ryan couldn't say he'd been surprised. Ryan knew Pete's writing from before he'd come to England, had seen off-off-Broadway versions of his better selling plays and had copies of the original prints stacked up in his apartment. Out of all the contemporary playwrights, Ryan knew that Pete Wentz had probably influenced his attempts at writing more than anyone.
People always tell him that meeting your heroes is a bad idea. Ryan has never disagreed with them, but meeting Pete didn't change anything. He was separate from his plays, which made it easier for Ryan to take his advice without feeling like it was law.
When he gets to Pete's apartment, he's already standing outside with a cigarette in his hand. He looks at Ryan but says nothing until he is standing right next to him.
"Ready to get working, kid?" Ryan laughs, low in his throat. Pete smiles, flicks his cigarette down and stamps it out under his shoe. They walk up to the apartment together and Pete takes a seat at the dining room table, where the manuscript is spread out.
**
Somehow, he knows that being really drunk and upset with someone that he's only just met isn't the best idea. But with his face pressed against Pete's chest and his arms wrapped around his thin body, it feels a little better. Pete isn't the spider monkey that Brendon is, and Ryan knows that it won't lead anywhere. He's content to be in someone's arms without feeling like he needs to be somewhere else.
Pete pets his hair and starts talking about absolutely nothing that matters to Ryan. Not until the name Patrick becomes a part of almost every sentence.
"He's just, he's such a brilliant musician. He's so amazing. I mean, Patrick can play anything he's wants to play. He's gorgeous when he plays, you know?" It's at this point that Ryan sits up and watches how Pete changes when he's talking about Patrick. He picks up the script that they'd been working with before the drinking has started. He flicked through, stopping half way through the booklet.
"Pete, Pete," Ryan placed his hand on Pete's shoulder to stop him talking. "Is this about him?" Pete looks up and smiles at Ryan. He pats his head lightly, taking the script and putting it back on the table. When he looks up again, the fire in Pete's eyes has dulled and his smile is weak.
"Who else was it going to be about?" Ryan smiles gently and leans back against the sofa arm. He knows how Pete feels. The one thing that critics find unbelievable about Ryan's plays is that in most of them, there is a solid, stable love interest that stays alongside the main character no matter what happens.
"I cheated on my solid love interest." Pete looks up from the bottle he's pouring a drink from and puts them both down on the table. He turns to face Ryan and looks at him, trying to make his mouth work in the right way.
"If I… I think you need to win him back." Ryan laughs a little hoarsely and pats the hand that is resting on his leg.
"I don't think real life works like that, Pete. Sorry." He stops, looks at Pete for a second, and then shrugs, speaking more quietly, "He forgave me anyway." Ryan shakes his head and rubs his dry eyes with the heel of his hand. "I don't think he forgot about it though. I love him." Pete pulls on Ryan's arm until he leans back into him and together they moan about how their lives are not want they want them to be.
**
He's on the phone to Spencer when Pete comes by with the finished version of the script. Pete waits quietly on the sofa until Ryan says goodbye. He plugs his phone back into the charger and when he turns back to Pete, Pete is smiling smugly. Ryan sits down on the other side of the sofa and crosses his legs under him.
"So that's the love interest then?" Ryan laughs a little, but nods all the same.
"My boyfriend." Pete smiles again, a little smaller and a lot less genuine. Ryan thinks that maybe Patrick's not everything that Pete wants him to be. He doesn't bring Spencer up again, all the same. "So, let's have a look at the finished product." Pete grabs his bag from the table in front of him and rummages through it. He brings the manuscript out, and then pulls a few more pages out. It's a little ripped, but it looks finished.
"The pages are all numbered, so you can just slot in the extra pages." Ryan flicks through it, and then finds the last page he read. It looks like there's only one more scene afterward, and by the title - The After Party and the After Life - he knows that it's not going to be the ending that he's expecting. Ryan wanted Pete to write something positive, something that Pete wanted to happen to him. But the main character leaves his love interest behind because he didn't want to destroy her life.
Ryan sighs and puts the script down on the table, turning towards Pete. "You didn't like it?" He sighs again, because there's no real way to tell Pete what he should have written. The ending seems right for the story; it ties everything together and makes the parts that Ryan was concerned about work. There's no way that Pete could write anything else that meant this much or that worked this well. Even so, he had wanted to see a happy ending to something.
"I loved it. It was perfect." Pete smiles half-heartedly and gets up. He goes to the kitchen to make coffee and brings it back. It's taken him quite a while to get used to making coffee the way that Ryan likes it. "I just wish you'd written it as though you wanted Patrick to come back." Pete squirms a little after sitting down and shrugs. Ryan knows that he doesn't know what to say, so he drops it. "I like the reference to The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore. At the end, with the mobile. It works."
"I don't know. Well, it's finished. A friend's friend has a company that's going to put it on." Ryan smiles and reaches across to pat Pete on the back. This is good. Pete's not had a play in production since the last one's opening two years ago. He's happy that Pete has something to look forward to. "Patrick said that he can't come back for the opening." Ryan doesn't know what to say to that, what Pete wants and what he's able to have aren't the same thing, and although the difference is bigger in the writer's head than in reality, it's still there. Ryan can't help noticing bits of himself in Pete.
Chapter 5: I Can't Stop Playing With You Baby
Ryan honestly never realised how much work went into being a tech. He knew that they were always in the theatre when he arrived and that one of them was always the last to leave. He just didn't realise that the people that were there in the morning were also the people that closed up at night. He thought that they'd worked shifts or something, anything more humane than the constant work that everyone seems to be doing around him.
Because of his lack of experience, Ryan has been relegated to dog's body, which he's used to doing. His entire day is full of changing filters, changing them back, moving lights, fetching people and getting coffee for the other techs. He doesn't mind doing this, because it means that occasionally one of the techs will be able to sit down with him and explain what this button does and why mobile phones screw up the sound system.
The techs are working on three productions at the moment: one Shakespeare piece by a group of first-years, which Brendon is involved with; one naturalistic piece by August Strindberg; and the piece that he's been attached to, Fear and Misery in the Third Reich. After running around the theatre for three days, he knows why he's been attached to Fear and Misery. The other two productions only need one tech to be there all the time, because the lighting and sound are relatively simple once they have been set up.
He's fetching coffee for the Strindberg group, as well as his own, when Brendon appears next to him. He holds his hands out for some of the cups and Ryan passes them over gladly. They walk back together to the theatre, Ryan drinking his own coffee in gulps whilst Brendon watches, laughing.
When he's finished, he turns to Brendon and smiles apologetically at him. "I'm the best friend ever." Brendon laughs again, but Ryan continues, "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. It's kind of a really unsociable life, being a tech."
"It's alright. I'm kind of busy with this play anyway, so it's not like I'd be around even if you were." Ryan leans into Brendon, bumping their shoulders together as they walk. "Hey, hey, hot coffee here." When they reach the theatre, Brendon hands the cups back to Ryan and presses a kiss to his forehead. Ryan shakes his head and goes to deliver the coffee to his waiting group.
**
About half way through the production, Jon starts turning up to rehearsals. Then parts of the set are put up and Ryan's coffee list no longer includes the Strindberg group but a whole new group of people. Jon introduces them briefly to Ryan as the rest of the production team, and that's it. The lighting is fixed in place for the last time, the sound is handled by the senior tech and Ryan's asked to help take measurements for this and to go out and get some more wood glue because the stuff they've got apparently isn't good enough.
It takes Ryan almost a week to realise that, in fact, he's doing all this out of the goodness of his heart, because there is always a production team member lounging around half asleep. He starts bringing a book to the rehearsals, and sits at the back of the lighting box instead of in the theatre seats. The production team doesn't seem to notice he's missing at all. Occasionally Jon will come and sit with him when there's nothing to do, but he never asks for help again.
He goes out for a drink with the techs the night before the production is due to begin and they toast him, saying how good he's been to them. "Usually, the directing students sit there and ignore anything we ask them to do unless their tutor is around," says Andy, the senior technician - who is the teacher, but hates being called a lecturer, and in all honesty has too many tattoos for Ryan to take him seriously as a teacher - his glass raised to Ryan, who is blushing profusely. "Three cheers for a good dog's body." And they do cheer for him, in a strange hyper yet mostly sober way.
The production team turn up later that night and they sit at the next table over. Ryan notices that the two teams don't seem to talk to each other past a terse greeting, and, when his group leaves, they all look at him strangely as he says goodbye to Jon.
"Hey, Jon? We going to see Brendon's thing on Friday?" Jon nods quickly and waves Ryan off before turning back to his team, who have become quiet in the short conversation.
When he gets outside, Joe pulls him off to the side and asks him how he knows Jon. Ryan tells him about Brendon and his acting classes, and Joe claps a hand to his shoulder.
"You know that the production team aren't exactly in our good books, right?" When Ryan shakes his head a little in response, Joe nods and sighs. "Come on, I'll explain." The explanation turns out to be fairly simple: Andy and the head production lecturer, Nick, had an argument over the production team using the theatre to make sets, rather than the workshop. Apparently, Andy had to spend a weekend cleaning the main floor and resurfacing it after he had let them in because the workshop had been too busy. When he'd asked Nick for the money out of the production budget, the other man had denied knowledge of the situation at all.
Ryan makes a note to talk to Jon about grudges and how they are bad for stress levels.
**
Two days into Spencer's stay, Brendon turns up at the door with a French film and a bottle of wine, thrusts them into Ryan's hand and proceeds to drag Spencer out the door without a single word. Once they get him to sit down and breathe, he explains.
"I just thought that Spencer isn't going to get to go out in London as a single guy, ever. So I figure you can take a few hours apart - which is what the wine and film are about, yes, I do listen to you, Ryan - and I can take Spencer out for a drink." Ryan goes to speak, but Brendon cuts him off. "And before you say that you've only got a few days together, blah blah blah, I don't want to hear it. I'm taking him out and you can suck it up. No-one wants to watch your strange films. Not even Spencer." With that he stands, taking Spencer's arm once more. "We're going. Goodbye." Spencer shrugs and lets himself be pulled out, laughing as he goes. Ryan only shakes his head, picking up the film from the table where he'd put it after Brendon had given it to him.
He smiles gently, recognising the cover almost instantly. Rififi. Ryan already has this movie in New York and on the shelf next to the TV in front of him. It was probably one of the only films that Brendon could remember Ryan mentioning and could get at the last minute. He smiles and puts the movie in, then goes to fetch a wine glass from the kitchen. It's the best thing he has to do whilst he's home alone.
It's been a long time since he's watched this movie, but he remembers it well enough. Ryan curls his legs under him, pours himself a glass of wine and sits back to watch.
He's just watching Cesar take Viviane's ring from the store when the buzzer sounds. He pauses the movie and goes to check who it is. Jon's voice comes through the speaker and Ryan smiles a little despite himself. He lets Jon up and waits by the door for him. Five minutes later, Jon's sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine in hand and is waiting for Ryan to join him.
Ryan clicks the DVD into its case and goes to sit next to Jon. "Haven't seen you in a while. The production team still think I'm a tech?" Jon's laughs nervously and scratches the side of his face. He doesn't know what to say to Ryan, in fact he hadn't come to see Ryan at all. He'd come to see Spencer, and this just makes it harder.
"Um... actually, no. I know Spencer's in England for the week and I wanted to come see him." Ryan puts his glass back on the table and sits up properly to look at Jon.
"Why would you want to do that, Jon?" Ryan stands, moving away from the sofa and away from Jon. "What business do you have with him?" Jon gets up to follow Ryan, but stops when he sees the cold expression on his face.
"Because of you. What am I meant to do? Pretend like it's all ok because your boyfriend doesn't know?" Ryan shakes his head and turns away. "It's not fair, Ryan."
"He knows. Brendon told him at Christmas." Jon moves towards Ryan, and grabs hold of his shoulders. "You can't just... ruin this for me. You can't do that." Ryan says, turning into Jon's arms, to look at him properly.
"It's not fair for me. Not for him." Jon surges closer and presses his lips to Ryan's. He tries to pull back, to move away and then stops. This is Jon, the person who'd been Ryan's only close friend in England other than Brendon. His only sane friend, at the very least. He's been around when Spencer hasn't, he's part of Ryan's new life. Ryan settles into Jon's arms and lets it happen.
**
Jon is curled against his back, mostly naked and talking quietly into his ear. It's comfortable and everything Ryan had wanted. But it feels wrong, it feels so very wrong and there's nothing Ryan can do about it. He knows that Brendon and Spencer will be back soon and he's got to get up. He's got to get the smell of sex off him. Jon's got to go.
"Spencer will be back soon, won't he?" Jon asks, stroking his hand down Ryan's arm. He tilts his head down to kiss his shoulder and then lets go so that Ryan can sit up. Jon sits up beside him and reaches underneath the coffee table to get his clothes. "We'll talk later, ok?"
"I think now. I think now would be good." Ryan turns to Jon, his hands clasped on his knees. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to explain. But I love Spencer. I love him with all of my heart and I don't know why I keep doing this. Why I keep letting myself do this. With you." Jon stands, trying to pull on his trousers whilst walking towards the door. He doesn't say anything to Ryan until he's standing next to the door and shoving his feet into his shoes.
"How can you think that this is ok? That I'm just going to let you screw me over. Who fucking cares about him?" Jon laughs sarcastically. "Well, you obviously do." Ryan gets up and goes to walk towards him. "No, don't. Don't even fucking try."
He opens the door and slams it behind him. Ryan stands there, half naked in the middle of the floor and lets his shoulders sink. Then he turns and picks up his clothes, heading to the bathroom. Spencer will be home soon.
**
Ryan doesn't mean to tell Spencer this time, just as Brendon hadn't meant to. They are curled up watching a horror film. Neither of them sees much point in going to bed this evening, knowing that they'll be able to sleep on the plane to New York. All their things are already packed and down in the car, because Spencer knows how much of a bitch Ryan can be in the morning and he doesn't want to deal with that.
"I always miss you." Spencer looks from the screen to Ryan, only to see him staring at the television instead. The light flickers on his face, emphasizing the shadows and making it seem 2D. "Even when you're here. It's not the same as it used to be. I want to be back in Queens. Anywhere that's not here."
"Hey, hey, I thought you liked England. You're always talking about how pretty it is, and how much you're going to miss it when you come back." Ryan breathes out sharply and turns his face away from Spencer.
"I do. I do. But I can't stay here alone anymore. I'll just fuck up again. I can't lose you, Spencer. I don't know what I'd do." He feels Spencer move away and closes his eyes as tight as he can. He can pretend it won't happen if he doesn't see it. Then Spencer's hands are on his jaw, and his eyes open to see Spencer looking at him. He can't quite see what's going on in his eyes, but he has a fairly good idea.
"I'm never gonna leave you, Ryan. You can keep pushing and pushing and I'll keep being the wall. I'm staying. Even if this, me and you, doesn't work out, you're not getting rid of me that easy." It's then that Ryan starts crying. He doesn't notice until Spencer's thumbs are swiping at his cheeks, and then he just cries harder. It turns into sobs, and it's all Ryan can do to keep breathing through them.
"I slept with Jon. Again. While you were here. This week." It takes Spencer a moment to put all the words that Ryan's saying into an actual sentence, but he gets there. He can't seem to move, and Ryan's hands are grasping at his fingers, trying to get some kind of hold on him. The next few seconds all blur together, and all of a sudden there are tears rolling down his face and he is next to the door into the bathroom. Ryan is sprawled over the couch, trying to hold himself together, when it feels like the sobs are breaking him apart.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Ryan? You bastard, you motherfucking bastard." He bangs his fist against the door jamb and swears under his breath. "You - you - I can't even… Shit." He turns his head away from Ryan, staring into nothingness, and narrows his eyes.
"I'm sorry - I'm so sorry, Spence. Please, god, please." Spencer lets out a cry of anger and turns back to face Ryan, who has propped himself against the edge of the sofa. His whole body is shaking, and his arms are wrapped around himself.
"Please what, Ryan? Please what?" Ryan curls over and buries his head in his hands; he's never felt like this before. "What am I meant to do with this? Just say "it's ok" again? I can't do that." He lowers his voice, and turns to rest his head on the door frame. "I can't do that again, Ryan." Then Ryan's stumbling over to him, putting his hands on Spencer's chest, his face, his arms, anywhere that he can reach. Spencer shoves him away, and he lands on the floor with a crash. Ryan curls his knees under him and leans up to Spencer's legs, holding onto them so tightly that Spencer has trouble standing.
"I love you. I love you, not him. I just, I needed you and he was there. Please, please don't leave me. Don't leave me here." Spencer puts his hands to his face and cries into them, the only thing he can think to do. Ryan's face is pressed against his thigh and he can feel the tears soaking through his thin pyjama bottoms. He doesn't know how to feel or what to do. Spencer just wants this to never have happened. He wants to be back in New York, with Ryan, in their bed, but when he opens his eyes, all he can see is the shitty apartment and the light of the flickering TV.
"You can't just - say that and make it better. You can't…" Spencer can feel Ryan's hand reaching up his chest and pulling on the sides of his shirt. He doesn't know what Ryan is doing, he can't begin to think, but he lets him. "I won't let you just make it better with words. I'm not allowed to, so why are you? Why you?" He cries out again and slams his flat hand onto the bathroom counter. "No more words, Ryan."
Spencer pulls Ryan to his feet by his wrist. They are near enough to the wall that Ryan's body makes a solid sound as it collides with the brickwork. Then Spencer's at his neck, biting, licking, sucking. Tears are still slipping down Ryan's face as he grasps at Spencer's hair, pulling him up to his wet mouth. The kiss is fierce, more teeth pushing against teeth. Ryan lifts his leg around Spencer's waist and is pulled up against him, grappling for support.
Spencer turns and throws him onto the sofa, undoing his jeans and pushing them off before climbing over him. Ryan shimmies his trousers down as best he can, and wraps his legs over Spencer's waist. He pulls their faces together, then growls, "Turn over," teeth bared.
Ryan pushes him away, looking into his eyes and scowling back. "No," he snarls, blinking the tears away. He pulls his boxers off, momentarily letting go of Spencer, then pushes Spencer's down. Ryan sucks two fingers into his mouth, getting them slick with saliva, then pushes one inside. He keeps going, adding another after a moment. He sucks his lip into his mouth, locking eyes with Spencer. Once Ryan can feel himself relaxing, he spits into his hand and grasps Spencer's cock. Spencer pushes him off and lifts Ryan's hips up, shoving a pillow underneath.
Then Spencer's in him and Ryan's begging him to go faster, harder. He feels water drip onto him, and goes to wipe the sweat from Spencer's face, only to find his eyes closed and tears hanging from his eyelashes.
"You're not his," Ryan hears him whisper, barely any noise at all. He pushes up into Spencer's grip, choking out the only reassurance he can give.
"I'm yours." And then it's over, Spencer's moving away and Ryan's left to deal with himself. Spencer doesn't stay; he grabs his coat and goes to check into a hotel before Ryan has even stumbled into the bathroom to clean himself up.
Ryan doesn't sleep that night; he doesn't even try. He just sits in the living room staring at the TV and waiting for Spencer to walk through the door and kiss away his tears. By the time the clock clicks to four, Ryan's curled up on the sofa, his head on the arm, and a blanket half spread over him. By four thirty, Spencer's sat on the end of a bed in a dark room, head in his hands and tears pouring down his face.
Part Six, Seven & Eight