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Heart & Tender
Part Eight
Phoenix is far enough away that Brendon doesn't have to think about his family or Pete or mistakes that he's made but close enough that he still does.
Summerlin never really leaves him or maybe it's that he can't leave the desert behind.
He leaves two months before graduation. That makes Brendon a high-school dropout, but he was headed that route anyways without his parents to keep him in school. He knows the value of a good education but he also knows that he's better at working people than grades anyways.
*****
Gabe is everything Brendon expected and nothing like what he'd guessed, which isn't surprising considering how muddled Brendon's estimation of him was.
He's taller than Brendon expects but just as funny, just as clever and slightly obnoxious in a familiar way, and Brendon feels like he could have drawn Gabe from a stencil of Pete.
This impression is all at first meeting, when Brendon nearly stumbles getting out of the car, legs stiff and eyes tired with the effort of squinting into the sun all day. They've pulled up in front of a decently-sized shop crammed in between two other stores. A wooden sign hangs over the entrance and Brendon can make out a snake with a flared hood and huge fangs carved into the wood.
Pete grabs Brendon's duffel bag out of the back of the car and lets Brendon handle the second bag, packed with things from Decaydance that Pete had gifted him with. Brendon stares up at the sign and a tall guy strolls out of the store and nearly picks Pete up with the force of his hug.
"Pete motherfucking Wentz, how are ya man?"
Pete laughs, or makes a strangled noise (Brendon can't really tell), and breaks out into one of his hugely goofy grins when the guy sets him down. "Amazing," he says with a sly tilt to his eyebrows and Brendon figures that he told this guy about Patrick already because there's no other explanation for the surprised, delighted noise the man makes.
Brendon watches them cautiously, holding his bag in front of him stiffly as they embrace and trade digs and looks. They don't look very much alike, but it's still a little like watching Pete spar with a mirror.
Finally, Pete turns back to Brendon, smile wide and eyes bright. "And this is Brendon," he says with a wave of his hand and Brendon blinks at them both, startled.
The guy thrusts his hand at Brendon with a grin. "Gabe Saporta," he introduces as he grabs Brendon's hand in a warm grasp. "Demon and as of now your sexy ass boss."
"And landlord," Pete adds. "Gabe's got a spare room above the store for you."
Brendon shakes his hand, unsure if he's feeling overwhelmed because of the long car ride or if Gabe usually has that effect of people. He doesn't seem fazed by Brendon's quietness and he claps him on the back enthusiastically.
"So you're my new apprentice, huh?" he asks with a grin and Brendon blinks through a shiver of confused surprise.
"Huh?" he responds intelligently, turning to look at Pete for clarification. He's grinning like a loon and nods in response, which makes Brendon's heart patter-drum quickly.
"Gabe makes potions. He mentioned that he was looking to take on an apprentice and I can't think of anyone better qualified," Pete says casually, even as his eyes are glinting mischievously. Brendon can only gape because immediately he can think of people better qualified- someone actually fucking magical, maybe- but he can't work his mouth to prove Pete wrong.
*****
Brendon's room above the shop is smaller than his bedroom at home and colder too. Its furnishings are spartan (previously Gabe's empty storage room, apparently) and the first night there is so lonely and quiet that Brendon doesn't sleep for more than ten minutes. Gabe has a room above the shop too, with a bathroom and kitchen in between them but Brendon still feels alone.
He shivers and pulls his blankets up around him and wishes for one second that everything had turned out differently.
If he's red-eyed from lack of sleep and maybe something else in the morning, Gabe doesn't mention it. He serves Brendon a pancake with a smile of syrup and Brendon puts any thoughts of his family, Pete, Jon, Patrick (and Ryan) away.
*****
It's different working with Gabe than it was with Pete.
For one, Brendon actually manages to learn magic. That dust trick that Pete had tried teaching Brendon had finally worked one lazy Sunday afternoon as Brendon was sweeping. He managed to get three specks to dance around him and Gabe had found Brendon crying on the floor. He'd sat next to Brendon and patted his back until Brendon's small, blurry-eyed tears of happiness changed into simply crying and pretended not to notice.
"I'm sorry," Brendon had managed eventually and Gabe had shrugged jauntily.
"Yeah, damn dust allergies and all that. I get it," he said nonchalantly and Brendon knew that he actually did.
It was a pretty embarrassing occurrence and neither Gabe nor Brendon ever mentions it. Gabe teaches Brendon how to make potions and stir ingredients in precise ways without magic and continues his education on how to spell and charm objects. He also teaches Brendon body shots, streaking at three in the morning and how to talk to beautiful women.
"This is Victoria Asher," Gabe introduces with a flourish, in Brendon's first week of work. He's mixing and measuring ingredients for a potion Gabe's going to make later and looks up at the tall, sleekly-dressed woman. "And she's sometimes a lady, so treat her right Brendon."
The smirky smile on Victoria Asher's face is enough to tell Brendon that she's used to Gabe's antics but still finds them more charming than she'd like to admit. Brendon is learning that Gabe tends to have that effect on people.
"Don't believe Gabe. He wouldn't know a lady if she slapped him on the ass." Gabe gives her an exaggeratedly scandalized look over his shoulder as he tidies the counter. Victoria smiles at him mischievously before glancing back down at Brendon with a conspiratorial look. "I am always a lady."
Gabe laughs in sharp amusement but Brendon just nods and smiles. "Nice to meet you." He's a little unnerved but determined not to get on Victoria's bad side.
"Oh, don't let Vicky T scare you," Gabe says loudly. "She's a sweetheart, I swear."
Brendon smiles and nods placatingly and isn't sure he trusts Gabe's character judgment on that especially when Victoria gives Gabe a predatory look from under the fringe of her bangs.
"He's sweet," she says as she nods in Brendon's direction. "Where'd you get him?"
"Pete," Gabe answers without turning around. "He's my new assistant."
"Pete," Victoria says with a pouty frown. "Why didn't I know about this? I want an assistant."
Gabe smirks at her over his shoulder. They both seem to have forgotten that Brendon's in the room and he's happy to just watch for now. "Pete loves me more, obviously. It's my Latina charm," he says with a shake of his hips and Vicky T claps her hands together in front of her face with an amused look.
"Sexy," she observes with a dryness that's betrayed with her grin.
"Besides, what's he going to help you with? He's a delicate flower and would faint at the sight of a mauled body. He's not cut out to be a P.I."
Brendon frowns at that. "I'm not delicate," he insists and Victoria pats his hand.
"Gabe's an asshole. Let's not listen to him." She shoots Gabe a mock-angry look. "A possible-assistant-stealing asshole. You pass that along to Pete too- tell him I want the next pretty wayward boy he finds."
Gabe just shrugs and Victoria somehow becomes a familiar face that's less and less intimidating. Brendon never would have believed that he would one day be able to talk to a strikingly beautiful (although occasionally sweat-and-dirt-covered) woman but he's constantly surprising himself lately.
*****
Brendon gets drunk for the first time (and second and third and twenty-seventh) with Gabe, on cheap beer and magical alcohol that tingles on the way down but has the same effect as the normal, non-magical variety. Brendon's a lightweight and they both know it but he insists up and down that he's okay for a few more beers. When he ends up puking his guts up a few hours later, Gabe pats his back while massaging his own aching head and doesn't mention Brendon's earlier bravado and claims.
Somewhere in the late night boozing sessions, Gabe unintentionally teaches Brendon how to look up to someone and still be able to admit their flaws.
"I hope I'm no one's role model," Gabe admits one evening, perhaps pretending to be a little more drunk than he really is. "That would seriously fuck some kid up."
"They're already fucked up if they doesn't know to learn the good stuff and leave out the bad," Brendon says philosophically and burps up some beer. "Like this? It's gonna hurt tomorrow but I'm not going to forget how good it felt at the time."
"Live for the moment," Gabe agrees, focusing on a different meaning than Brendon met (maybe intentionally) and raising his empty can in a mock toast.
*****
Brendon gets to know Gabe's friends and gets to know Gabe himself almost better than he knows Pete. Both Pete and Gabe run their mouths so freely that it's not hard and Gabe fires out names of important visitors
"Ryland," he introduces over his shoulder before pointing at the shorter and yet nowhere-near-short guy next to him. "Suarez."
"Guy Ripley," the first guy introduces himself as in a British accent when he shakes Brendon's hand. "It's a pleasure."
"Pleasure Ryland!" Gabe calls out and it must be a running joke because neither Ryland (Guy?) nor Suarez looks surprised.
"Alex Suarez," the second guy corrects with a calm look. "But Suarez is cool too."
They pop in about as much as Victoria and Brendon quickly learns that it's because Ryland works in the Gap down the street and they're usually on a lunch break when they stop by to visit. They steal Gabe away the first few times for lunch and Brendon mans the shop alone without complaint. But it doesn't take long until they invite him along too, shutting down the store for a lunch break with sandwiches at a restaurant and inside jokes that mostly fly over Brendon's head. And eventually, they hang out enough that Brendon can pick up the jokes, laugh along tentatively at first and then for real when one catches him by surprise.
Brendon meets Nate when he finds him in his room one day.
Brendon's split between screaming or leaping onto the guy robbing his room (he looks shorter than most of the people that Brendon's been hanging around with lately so it's a possibility that Brendon could take him) when the guy turns around quickly with his hands up.
"Oh, hey," he says, like he's not robbing Brendon's room. "Have you seen Gabe?"
Brendon eyes him warily, trying to find some sort of weapon. "He's out getting dinner," Brendon says and then realizes how stupid that was. If this guy is actually robbing him, now he knows that Brendon's all alone.
"Oh, okay," the guys says with a shrug, going back to rifling through Brendon's things. "I was pretty sure I left my extra toothbrush here but I can just go buy a new one, I guess." He looks at Brendon curiously for a second. "Are you the one living here now?"
'Former storage room' apparently also means 'former room of Nate Navarro.' Brendon's not sure if he can believe the story but at least Nate doesn't seem to have any intention of robbing Brendon. Brendon still doesn't stop subtly looking around for a possible weapon until Gabe returns with a pizza and confirms that Nate is indeed a friend and definitely welcome to stay for dinner.
Brendon tapes a sign proclaiming 'BRENDON'S ROOM' in Sharpie onto his door after that though. He doesn't want any of Gabe's other, shadier acquaintances wandering into his room by mistake.
*****
"A little bit more of that blue dust- a pinch."
Brendon follows Gabe's instructions, adding a pinch more of the fairy dust and mixing it to the small bowl in front of him.
Gabe looks thoughtful, watching Brendon's measuring but seemingly more focused on his own thoughts. "Let's try a drop of cobra venom." Gabe's favorite ingredient, without a doubt. He's got some theory that cobra venom can bring any potion together and Brendon usually just nods along when he starts lecturing about it, because it's way over Brendon's head and involves some mystic revelations that Brendon suspects might have come to Gabe under the influence of heavy drug use. It's a good theory though, or at least a good ingredient, and Brendon carefully adds a drop from one of Gabe's many bottles. He stirs counter-clockwise steadily and then looks up at Gabe for further instruction.
Potion-making is more of an art than a science, Gabe had explained to him the first week that Brendon had been working at his shop, before Brendon had even touched a potion. Over sweeping, dusting and organizing ingredients, Gabe had told Brendon, in long-winded fashion, about the subjectivity of these things.
"It's like a cooking recipe," he'd explained in one of his more effective examples. "But with more wiggle-room. A few drops of one thing might make the whole thing better, it might screw it up or it might do nothing."
So Brendon's not surprised when occasionally Gabe will pause in his instructions, looking off into the distance with an expression of concentration as he apparently ponders where to go with the potion.
"How can you tell what to add next?" Brendon had asked one day as he'd wiped extra dragon scales off the counter and into their proper jar.
"Magic," Gabe replied and Brendon had blinked abruptly at the old pain that triggered unexpectedly. "I mean, talent and practice and all that good shit but really. Magic."
"Oh." Brendon had busied his hands on the jars and he wasn't sure if he was grateful that Gabe was preoccupied enough to be oblivious.
Now, he just waits without offering input while Gabe taps his chin thoughtfully. Brendon has become a lot more adventurous with magic since he's come to work with Gabe and discovered that a lot of magic, especially potion-making, doesn't actually require very much... magic. But there's still a large glaring reminder of his own limitations and Brendon doesn't even want to try making suggestions out of preemptive fear that he'll be completely wrong.
So Brendon waits for the next step. And waits. And waits.
Finally, Brendon realizes that Gabe's no longer staring into space but at something behind Brendon. When he peeks over his shoulder, there's a skinny, tall guy in a t-shirt and tight jeans standing cautiously at the door and Brendon casually slides his body in front of the potion to block it from view. Gabe's shop is located in a neighborhood where magic is pretty prevalent but officially he sells lotions and tacky jewelry. Openly making potions on the front counter where any human could walk by and see it probably isn't the smartest idea in any neighborhood.
The guy looks over the hand lotions at the front of the store for a second, obviously stalling before shaking his hair out of his face and walking over to Brendon and Gabe.
When he heads towards the counter, Brendon suddenly can't breathe. His heart stops in his chest and angels sing and the clouds fucking part or something because it suddenly strikes Brendon like a lightning bolt that this guy's gorgeous. There's an abrupt fuzziness in Brendon's head that won't let him think straight and he leans forward with a small smile.
Vaguely, Brendon can tell that he's staring but he can't seem to bring himself to care or stop himself. The guy- amazing, attractive, wonderful guy- ducks his head uncomfortably as he passes Brendon to get to Gabe and Brendon barely stops himself from grabbing the guy's wrist as he goes by.
Gabe, for his part, looks mostly unaffected. "Out of your potion?" he asks with a nod in Brendon's direction and the guy smiles a little self-consciously, nods.
"I completely forgot that I was running low the past few days." The guy shakes his head, self-deprecating smile curving his lips. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind...?"
"Hey, no trouble at all. Sit tight and keep an eye on Brendon, will you?" Gabe grins at the stranger and then pats Brendon on the head. "Be good. Try not to molest Bill."
Brendon knows he should be offended by that, but it's probably a fair thing to say considering how hard he's eying the guy- Bill, apparently. Brendon takes a seat on the stool behind the counter and the guy stands awkwardly as Gabe disappears into the back to go mix his potion.
Brendon has no real desire for conversation (he's happy just staring at the guy) but Bill looks uncomfortable in the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. "You work here too?" he asks and Brendon tears himself away from his detailed study of the way Bill's too-long hair curls where it meets his neck in order to nod.
"For a few weeks now."
"I figured you were new," Bill says with a thoughtful nod. "I don't remember seeing you around here before."
"I'm sure I've never seen you before- I would remember that," Brendon says and Bill cringes and ducks behind his hair, busying himself with reorganizing a set of lotions on the side of the counter. Brendon just rearranged them a few hours earlier but he's enjoying watching Bill's long fingers twist and turn the bottles too much to stop him.
"I've only got enough of this base to make a week's worth of your potion," Gabe calls from the back. "But I'm getting a new shipment on Tuesday if you want to come back then to pick up more."
Bill straightens the second Gabe starts speaking, maybe thankful for the distraction and Brendon watches him with a curious tilt of his head. "Sure, I'll do that," he says and smiles even though Gabe's in the other room and can't see and for a second Brendon's too busy noting that to properly appreciate the niceness of Bill's smile.
A hand clamps down on Brendon's shoulder a second later and he practically jumps out of his skin, to Gabe's amusement. He laughs above him and then reaches over Brendon to hand Bill a small bag. "So, Tuesday. I'll be ready for you."
And Gabe's tone isn't particularly lecherous, especially not for him, but Bill still looks a little flustered and yet still more comfortable than he did when it was just him and Brendon. "Right. Tuesday," he says with an unconscious flip of his hair. "It was..." he stares at Brendon for a second. "Nice meeting you."
Brendon just nods because, yeah, this is nice. He somehow resists the urge to kiss the back of Bill's hand and then wonders what the hell he was thinking as Bill walks out of the store with a distracted look on his face.
The sensation of his brain being covered in bubble-wrap disappears as soon as Bill leaves.
"What the fuck?" he says and deliberately doesn't say the last word quieter than the rest, like he'd conditioned himself to at home where his mom might overhear him.
Gabe is grinning but his amusement isn't as vast and obnoxious as Brendon would have expected from a situation where Brendon had made an ass of himself over some random customer. "Did Brendon just find himself a boyfriend?" he crows and Brendon kicks at him from the stool.
"No, seriously. What the hell was that?" Brendon's mildly creeped out, both by the situation and by himself.
"That was William Beckett," Gabe says matter-of-factly and still deliberately not answering the question. Brendon's expression must be suitably pouty or mutinous though because Gabe finally takes pity on him and, knowing Gabe, he could have avoided the question a lot longer. "He's a siren."
Brendon blinks, tilts his head. "Siren?" he repeats for clarification.
Gabe waves his hands mysteriously around his head. "Siren. Seductive, sex-on-legs types. Only part siren- hence why he's got man-parts- but still definitely a siren."
That takes some of the sting out of the embarrassment Brendon's feeling. "So does everyone react to him like that?" he asks hopefully.
"Pretty much," Gabe says with a nod and what might be the slightest beginning of a frown, although it's gone when Brendon looks closer. "When he doesn't take the potion I make for him at least. That's definitely not the first time he's forgotten either. I'd think it was on purpose if it wasn't Bill."
"You weren't drooling over him," Brendon points out.
"Well, I'm used to being around beautiful men and women. I'm able to look in the mirror, obviously," Gabe says with a sharp grin and Brendon rolls his eyes until Gabe actually answers. "He doesn't have as much of an effect on magical beings."
Brendon 'hm's and Gabe seems to take that as a loss of interest because he taps the bowl that Brendon was mixing with earlier. "Did you do the venom yet? That's the most important step, I've decided. And now try about half a teaspoon of sugar. Yes, really- it doesn't need to taste like shit."
*****
The next time Brendon runs into William Beckett is equally embarrassing, although for entirely different reasons.
It doesn't take Brendon very long to figure out that the magical scene in Phoenix isn't very big but it's definitely intimate. He wouldn't say 'tight-knit' mostly because that sounds too gentle and most of the get-togethers are alcoholic blurs, but everyone seems to know who everyone else is and a new face sticks out in the crowd. Luckily, most of Gabe's closest friends already know Brendon from the shop but he still feels enough like an outsider at the first party Gabe brings him to that's larger than just two or three people.
"Relax," Gabe says into his ear as he squeezes Brendon's shoulder. "You're not even the only human here."
And that's supposed to help, Brendon can tell, but that doesn't mean he's not the only newcomer here. Gabe gives his shoulder one last friendly pat and then knocks on the door of the unassuming house.
They're greeted by a wiry guy with short hair and a large, lazy grin who Gabe immediately engulfs in a hug.
"Hey," the guy says over Gabe's shoulder, bringing his own arms up to thump Gabe once on the back before smiling at Brendon.
"I'm the Butcher," he says and Brendon immediately sends Gabe a frantic look over the guy's shoulder as they shake hands. The Butcher?
"Nickname," Gabe clarifies, leading Brendon with a hand on his upper back into the house. They step over a box of pizzas and run right into the heart of the party, centered in what appears to be the living room. There are familiar faces- Victoria's taken up most of a couch and is peering over the shoulder of a guy playing poker and Nate appears to be involved in an intense game of beer pong- and Brendon feels himself loosen up a little before the first drink is even passed into his hand. He might be out of his element, but Brendon's pretty good at adjusting to even the most uncomfortable social situations and at least no one's glaring at him like the football players had in high school when he'd mistakenly sat at their lunch table.
"Brendon! C'mere and meet these guys," Vicky T calls him over, slinging an arm over Brendon's shoulders and pressing her face to the side of his. She doesn't quite kiss his temple but he can feel her smile there. "This is Sisky and the guy whose ass we're handing to him is Chislett."
A guy with shortish, curlyish hair turns to give Brendon a quick wave before laying down his hand. Across the makeshift table a blonde guy pouts and shoves his small stack of chips in their direction. "I think you're cheating," he says as Vicky T and Sisky high-five.
"Never!" Sisky claims loudly and then tugs at the Butcher's leg (which is very-much exposed since his entire outfit consists of hot-pink shorts and a bandanna around his neck). "Beer?"
It's easy to relax into the atmosphere and most people just move around Brendon without outright ignoring him. He carves out a nice niche for himself and a spot on the couch next to Victoria, helping them lose a good number of Sisky's chips to Chislett as their side of the table becomes progressively drunker. It's easier to open up to a smaller group and Brendon's loudly telling a story about peeing his pants in freshman year after someone in his English class had told a joke when Victoria suddenly leans over Brendon to hug someone and suddenly William Beckett is hovering at Brendon's shoulder.
He looks good- a little more comfortable, although if it's in his skin or this element Brendon can't tell- and gives Brendon a small smile. "Hey."
Brendon's story abruptly dies off although it's thankfully because of embarrassment and not a debilitating crush. "Uh, hi," Brendon greets lamely. Bill looks just as good as he did at the store, in a v-neck shirt and ripped jeans and long hair, but Brendon's reaction is definitely milder. He can appreciate William's attractiveness and the fact that he has a pleasant, calm voice without staring at him like an idiot.
Thankfully, Sisky saves him from saying anything stupid by grabbing at William, trying to get him to sit down with him. "Bill. Bill, we need you- Chiz is robbing us," he says and William complies. He doesn't help them win any more than Brendon did but he also doesn't mention how he met Brendon so that's something.
Gabe comes and stands over them later, ruffling Brendon's hair like he's fond of doing and then trying the same move on Bill, who protests loudly with a smile on his face. Brendon thinks that he should remember later how Gabe gazes down at William with interested eyes but he forgets when he wakes up the next morning.
It shouldn't be Brendon's scene- he's a human, an outsider and only just pulling away from an upbringing where the hardest thing he drank was an occasional Sprite. But far from home, this is as close as he gets to a family. And if it's the opposite of his blood family- Ryland drunkenly fawning over William Beckett in a British accent, Mike Carden breaking a bottle over Brendon's head as they're tussling for the remote in what comes to be known as an accident, catching Sisky and the Butcher making out on one of the couches when everyone else had supposedly gone to sleep and then nearly catching Gabe and Bill doing something, talking quietly and slowly with their heads bent together and feeling bad when they break apart quickly at Brendon's requests for more chips- then, well, that's okay as far as Brendon's concerned.
*****
Two and a half years with Gabe is like an extended holiday. Brendon learns (about himself and magic, although he can't decide which is more useful knowing) and grows (not taller, although he does fill out the slightest bit and darkens a little in the Phoenix sun).
And when he tells Pete that he's ready to come home, for the summer at least, he means it. He's as ready as he'll ever be, with wounds healed over, not gone but grown over and distinguishable only by the slightest bump like the raised skin of a scar. When Brendon hangs up the phone after making arrangements to come back, it's nowhere near the first time he's spoken with Pete since he's come to Phoenix but it's the first time that Summerlin can sound like home again.
*****
It begins and ends, again, with a guitar.
Brendon literally trips over Ryan Ross on his first day back in Summerlin.
Brendon's walking into Pete's store, his trusty guitar slung over one shoulder and sorely in need of new strings, and his foot snags on the pair of legs stretched across the walkway. Brendon stumbles into the counter at the front of the shop, scattering a few knickknacks from the force.
Ryan looks like a hobo, almost unrecognizable without makeup or a shield of bangs cut angularly over his face. His new haircut is unflattering and there's still a bit of eyeliner smudged carelessly under his eyes, but his skin is glowing healthily even if he's still too skinny. He tucks his long legs back up against himself slowly, a little too late now that Brendon's already tripped over them, and holds the book he was reading to his chest.
"We're closed."
Brendon saw the sign on the door stating as much, but he's an old friend and he knows that Pete's doors are never really closed.
Brendon's throat seems to have closed up though as he struggles for a moment to say something without knowing what he even wants to get out. He can tell that Ryan recognizes him- unlike Ryan, Brendon hasn't changed much these past few years. Not physically, at least.
They stare at each other and Brendon vaguely wonders if Ryan's trying to absorb him with his eyes, noting every little change and filling in every forgotten detail, like Brendon is.
"I've been in love now," Ryan says suddenly, randomly, like that's some sort of shield that might protect him from Brendon.
Brendon hasn't. He's lost his virginity and had his heart broken, but he hasn't been in love since Ryan.
He figured out that he wasn't attracted to girls when Gabe tried to hook him up with an acquaintance, Maja, and the smoking blonde hadn't done anything for him. But beyond physical attraction to a few guys, there wasn't anything incredibly meaningful. He might have had something like a breakdown about being gay if he hadn't already weathered being kicked out of his house, out of his old life- there was no one left to judge him for it other than Brendon himself and his own self-doubt and loathing took a different, more specific route. One more centered around Ryan than guys in general.
"I wasn't in love with you," Ryan says, matter-of-fact and Brendon wants to say 'I know, I know, but that didn't stop me from wanting it so much that I'd hurt you for it.' "I couldn't be, back then. And I don't know you well enough to love you now."
"Alright," Brendon replies. And he knew that, always knew that, even if he maybe didn't want to acknowledge it. He's strong though; he can face this and whatever angry words Ryan tries to throw at him.
"I don't love you," he says again, firmly, and Brendon wonders if there's a look of disbelief on his face, some reason that Ryan feels the need to repeat himself and press the point.
He just nods instead. "Okay," and then "I'm sorry."
The apology hangs awkwardly in the air between them until Ryan nods slowly, and Brendon thinks how weird it is to see his eyes without the cover of eyeliner and bangs.
"I hated you," Ryan tells him, voice monotone but words still enough to make Brendon flinch on their own.
"Yeah," Brendon replies weakly and Ryan lets out a sigh, full of unsaid curses and hatred carried around for years.
"My dad died a couple of months after you left," Ryan says and for a second Brendon's stuck more on the part where Ryan knew that he'd left and he almost doesn't notice that Ryan actually said.
Brendon doesn't know how to respond when he finally does catch up with the words. "I'm sorry," he finally offers, again, broken-record style and Ryan accepts that with a distracted nod, like he's so used to people apologizing for his father's death that he forgets to ignore Brendon's apology.
"And I finally loved him. I mean, I hated him too, finally, after all those years of wanting to be able to hate him for everything. I could do that- hate him, love him." Ryan frowns, picking at something invisible on his hands distractedly. "Forgive him, I guess, for all of it."
Brendon doesn't feel victorious at that, but it's some close, hybrid emotion because as much as he's regretted giving Ryan his heart back, he's always felt an inkling of justification too. Not enough that he'd ever dare tell anyone but it keeps him from sinking into self-loathing sometimes.
"I mean- that means that I actually fucking miss him now," Ryan says and his voice trembles a little under the weight of the words in a way that neither of them acknowledge. "But- it was worth it. It's worth the pain, for the good things."
Brendon squints up into the sunlight just outside the shade of the shop and shoves his hands into his pockets, trying not to remember conversations with Gabe where he might have echoed the same sentiments without realizing it.
"I wrote you a letter," Ryan says, seemingly out of the blue, glancing up at Brendon. "Did Pete ever give it to you?"
Brendon shakes his head. "No."
Pete had kept up his promise to visit, bringing Patrick and occasionally Jon with him and even Hemmy once, memorably. But he'd never mentioned Ryan, other than a certain thoughtful frown he would give Brendon when he thought he wasn't looking sometimes, and he'd never brought a letter to the best of Brendon's knowledge. Brendon had enough to think about without Ryan Ross's input.
"I don't anymore. Don't hate you," he says finally and Brendon looks up from the concrete but can't meet Ryan's eyes, which are studiously avoiding him. "I've had a lot of time to think about it, about myself and about all of this and. About you."
Brendon nods because yeah, he's had the same experience. He spent a lot of those nearly three years thinking about Ryan.
"And about how you were the only person that cared enough to try and get my heart back and the only one who didn't care how much it hurt me-" Brendon winces at that- "because it was what was best for me in the end."
And Brendon's thought about that a lot too. It might not have been pure, mature love that he'd felt for Ryan but it was definitely something; desire and need and selfishness and hormones and friendship and care and fondness and lust all tied together. Brendon's not proud of what he did; there's too much regret mixed up in it but... he's come to realize that he would do it over, again and again, if faced with the same scenario. He can see the wrong in his decision but he can't convince himself that it outweighs Ryan's chance at real life.
Ryan's gaze is on Brendon's guitar now, which seems to be easier for him to look at then his face.
"I didn't love you then," Ryan says quietly. "But I might have- if I could have."
Brendon's never been one for words. He leans down and across his guitar and presses his lips to Ryan's.
There's a butterfly-soft movement in response and when Ryan opens his mouth the smallest bit, maybe to breathe or to say something or maybe in reciprocation, Brendon pulls back. He can't look at Ryan for a second and keeps his eyes on the peek of collarbone that his t-shirt allows until Ryan makes a breathless noise and Brendon can't help but glance up.
Ryan's hair is falling ridiculously into his eyes and Brendon finds himself pushing it back with one hand while the other rests on Ryan's shoulder.
"And now that you can?" Brendon asks, voice too bright with a hope that he tries to contain.
In answer, Ryan closes the distance between them. This time, he's the one that starts the kiss, clinging to Brendon's shirt like he might lose the nerve. Brendon feels his lips curve into a smile against Ryan's.
A lot can change in three years- a lot has changed. But time isn't everything, Brendon knows, and hearts don't forget.
Part Eight
Phoenix is far enough away that Brendon doesn't have to think about his family or Pete or mistakes that he's made but close enough that he still does.
Summerlin never really leaves him or maybe it's that he can't leave the desert behind.
He leaves two months before graduation. That makes Brendon a high-school dropout, but he was headed that route anyways without his parents to keep him in school. He knows the value of a good education but he also knows that he's better at working people than grades anyways.
*****
Gabe is everything Brendon expected and nothing like what he'd guessed, which isn't surprising considering how muddled Brendon's estimation of him was.
He's taller than Brendon expects but just as funny, just as clever and slightly obnoxious in a familiar way, and Brendon feels like he could have drawn Gabe from a stencil of Pete.
This impression is all at first meeting, when Brendon nearly stumbles getting out of the car, legs stiff and eyes tired with the effort of squinting into the sun all day. They've pulled up in front of a decently-sized shop crammed in between two other stores. A wooden sign hangs over the entrance and Brendon can make out a snake with a flared hood and huge fangs carved into the wood.
Pete grabs Brendon's duffel bag out of the back of the car and lets Brendon handle the second bag, packed with things from Decaydance that Pete had gifted him with. Brendon stares up at the sign and a tall guy strolls out of the store and nearly picks Pete up with the force of his hug.
"Pete motherfucking Wentz, how are ya man?"
Pete laughs, or makes a strangled noise (Brendon can't really tell), and breaks out into one of his hugely goofy grins when the guy sets him down. "Amazing," he says with a sly tilt to his eyebrows and Brendon figures that he told this guy about Patrick already because there's no other explanation for the surprised, delighted noise the man makes.
Brendon watches them cautiously, holding his bag in front of him stiffly as they embrace and trade digs and looks. They don't look very much alike, but it's still a little like watching Pete spar with a mirror.
Finally, Pete turns back to Brendon, smile wide and eyes bright. "And this is Brendon," he says with a wave of his hand and Brendon blinks at them both, startled.
The guy thrusts his hand at Brendon with a grin. "Gabe Saporta," he introduces as he grabs Brendon's hand in a warm grasp. "Demon and as of now your sexy ass boss."
"And landlord," Pete adds. "Gabe's got a spare room above the store for you."
Brendon shakes his hand, unsure if he's feeling overwhelmed because of the long car ride or if Gabe usually has that effect of people. He doesn't seem fazed by Brendon's quietness and he claps him on the back enthusiastically.
"So you're my new apprentice, huh?" he asks with a grin and Brendon blinks through a shiver of confused surprise.
"Huh?" he responds intelligently, turning to look at Pete for clarification. He's grinning like a loon and nods in response, which makes Brendon's heart patter-drum quickly.
"Gabe makes potions. He mentioned that he was looking to take on an apprentice and I can't think of anyone better qualified," Pete says casually, even as his eyes are glinting mischievously. Brendon can only gape because immediately he can think of people better qualified- someone actually fucking magical, maybe- but he can't work his mouth to prove Pete wrong.
*****
Brendon's room above the shop is smaller than his bedroom at home and colder too. Its furnishings are spartan (previously Gabe's empty storage room, apparently) and the first night there is so lonely and quiet that Brendon doesn't sleep for more than ten minutes. Gabe has a room above the shop too, with a bathroom and kitchen in between them but Brendon still feels alone.
He shivers and pulls his blankets up around him and wishes for one second that everything had turned out differently.
If he's red-eyed from lack of sleep and maybe something else in the morning, Gabe doesn't mention it. He serves Brendon a pancake with a smile of syrup and Brendon puts any thoughts of his family, Pete, Jon, Patrick (and Ryan) away.
*****
It's different working with Gabe than it was with Pete.
For one, Brendon actually manages to learn magic. That dust trick that Pete had tried teaching Brendon had finally worked one lazy Sunday afternoon as Brendon was sweeping. He managed to get three specks to dance around him and Gabe had found Brendon crying on the floor. He'd sat next to Brendon and patted his back until Brendon's small, blurry-eyed tears of happiness changed into simply crying and pretended not to notice.
"I'm sorry," Brendon had managed eventually and Gabe had shrugged jauntily.
"Yeah, damn dust allergies and all that. I get it," he said nonchalantly and Brendon knew that he actually did.
It was a pretty embarrassing occurrence and neither Gabe nor Brendon ever mentions it. Gabe teaches Brendon how to make potions and stir ingredients in precise ways without magic and continues his education on how to spell and charm objects. He also teaches Brendon body shots, streaking at three in the morning and how to talk to beautiful women.
"This is Victoria Asher," Gabe introduces with a flourish, in Brendon's first week of work. He's mixing and measuring ingredients for a potion Gabe's going to make later and looks up at the tall, sleekly-dressed woman. "And she's sometimes a lady, so treat her right Brendon."
The smirky smile on Victoria Asher's face is enough to tell Brendon that she's used to Gabe's antics but still finds them more charming than she'd like to admit. Brendon is learning that Gabe tends to have that effect on people.
"Don't believe Gabe. He wouldn't know a lady if she slapped him on the ass." Gabe gives her an exaggeratedly scandalized look over his shoulder as he tidies the counter. Victoria smiles at him mischievously before glancing back down at Brendon with a conspiratorial look. "I am always a lady."
Gabe laughs in sharp amusement but Brendon just nods and smiles. "Nice to meet you." He's a little unnerved but determined not to get on Victoria's bad side.
"Oh, don't let Vicky T scare you," Gabe says loudly. "She's a sweetheart, I swear."
Brendon smiles and nods placatingly and isn't sure he trusts Gabe's character judgment on that especially when Victoria gives Gabe a predatory look from under the fringe of her bangs.
"He's sweet," she says as she nods in Brendon's direction. "Where'd you get him?"
"Pete," Gabe answers without turning around. "He's my new assistant."
"Pete," Victoria says with a pouty frown. "Why didn't I know about this? I want an assistant."
Gabe smirks at her over his shoulder. They both seem to have forgotten that Brendon's in the room and he's happy to just watch for now. "Pete loves me more, obviously. It's my Latina charm," he says with a shake of his hips and Vicky T claps her hands together in front of her face with an amused look.
"Sexy," she observes with a dryness that's betrayed with her grin.
"Besides, what's he going to help you with? He's a delicate flower and would faint at the sight of a mauled body. He's not cut out to be a P.I."
Brendon frowns at that. "I'm not delicate," he insists and Victoria pats his hand.
"Gabe's an asshole. Let's not listen to him." She shoots Gabe a mock-angry look. "A possible-assistant-stealing asshole. You pass that along to Pete too- tell him I want the next pretty wayward boy he finds."
Gabe just shrugs and Victoria somehow becomes a familiar face that's less and less intimidating. Brendon never would have believed that he would one day be able to talk to a strikingly beautiful (although occasionally sweat-and-dirt-covered) woman but he's constantly surprising himself lately.
*****
Brendon gets drunk for the first time (and second and third and twenty-seventh) with Gabe, on cheap beer and magical alcohol that tingles on the way down but has the same effect as the normal, non-magical variety. Brendon's a lightweight and they both know it but he insists up and down that he's okay for a few more beers. When he ends up puking his guts up a few hours later, Gabe pats his back while massaging his own aching head and doesn't mention Brendon's earlier bravado and claims.
Somewhere in the late night boozing sessions, Gabe unintentionally teaches Brendon how to look up to someone and still be able to admit their flaws.
"I hope I'm no one's role model," Gabe admits one evening, perhaps pretending to be a little more drunk than he really is. "That would seriously fuck some kid up."
"They're already fucked up if they doesn't know to learn the good stuff and leave out the bad," Brendon says philosophically and burps up some beer. "Like this? It's gonna hurt tomorrow but I'm not going to forget how good it felt at the time."
"Live for the moment," Gabe agrees, focusing on a different meaning than Brendon met (maybe intentionally) and raising his empty can in a mock toast.
*****
Brendon gets to know Gabe's friends and gets to know Gabe himself almost better than he knows Pete. Both Pete and Gabe run their mouths so freely that it's not hard and Gabe fires out names of important visitors
"Ryland," he introduces over his shoulder before pointing at the shorter and yet nowhere-near-short guy next to him. "Suarez."
"Guy Ripley," the first guy introduces himself as in a British accent when he shakes Brendon's hand. "It's a pleasure."
"Pleasure Ryland!" Gabe calls out and it must be a running joke because neither Ryland (Guy?) nor Suarez looks surprised.
"Alex Suarez," the second guy corrects with a calm look. "But Suarez is cool too."
They pop in about as much as Victoria and Brendon quickly learns that it's because Ryland works in the Gap down the street and they're usually on a lunch break when they stop by to visit. They steal Gabe away the first few times for lunch and Brendon mans the shop alone without complaint. But it doesn't take long until they invite him along too, shutting down the store for a lunch break with sandwiches at a restaurant and inside jokes that mostly fly over Brendon's head. And eventually, they hang out enough that Brendon can pick up the jokes, laugh along tentatively at first and then for real when one catches him by surprise.
Brendon meets Nate when he finds him in his room one day.
Brendon's split between screaming or leaping onto the guy robbing his room (he looks shorter than most of the people that Brendon's been hanging around with lately so it's a possibility that Brendon could take him) when the guy turns around quickly with his hands up.
"Oh, hey," he says, like he's not robbing Brendon's room. "Have you seen Gabe?"
Brendon eyes him warily, trying to find some sort of weapon. "He's out getting dinner," Brendon says and then realizes how stupid that was. If this guy is actually robbing him, now he knows that Brendon's all alone.
"Oh, okay," the guys says with a shrug, going back to rifling through Brendon's things. "I was pretty sure I left my extra toothbrush here but I can just go buy a new one, I guess." He looks at Brendon curiously for a second. "Are you the one living here now?"
'Former storage room' apparently also means 'former room of Nate Navarro.' Brendon's not sure if he can believe the story but at least Nate doesn't seem to have any intention of robbing Brendon. Brendon still doesn't stop subtly looking around for a possible weapon until Gabe returns with a pizza and confirms that Nate is indeed a friend and definitely welcome to stay for dinner.
Brendon tapes a sign proclaiming 'BRENDON'S ROOM' in Sharpie onto his door after that though. He doesn't want any of Gabe's other, shadier acquaintances wandering into his room by mistake.
*****
"A little bit more of that blue dust- a pinch."
Brendon follows Gabe's instructions, adding a pinch more of the fairy dust and mixing it to the small bowl in front of him.
Gabe looks thoughtful, watching Brendon's measuring but seemingly more focused on his own thoughts. "Let's try a drop of cobra venom." Gabe's favorite ingredient, without a doubt. He's got some theory that cobra venom can bring any potion together and Brendon usually just nods along when he starts lecturing about it, because it's way over Brendon's head and involves some mystic revelations that Brendon suspects might have come to Gabe under the influence of heavy drug use. It's a good theory though, or at least a good ingredient, and Brendon carefully adds a drop from one of Gabe's many bottles. He stirs counter-clockwise steadily and then looks up at Gabe for further instruction.
Potion-making is more of an art than a science, Gabe had explained to him the first week that Brendon had been working at his shop, before Brendon had even touched a potion. Over sweeping, dusting and organizing ingredients, Gabe had told Brendon, in long-winded fashion, about the subjectivity of these things.
"It's like a cooking recipe," he'd explained in one of his more effective examples. "But with more wiggle-room. A few drops of one thing might make the whole thing better, it might screw it up or it might do nothing."
So Brendon's not surprised when occasionally Gabe will pause in his instructions, looking off into the distance with an expression of concentration as he apparently ponders where to go with the potion.
"How can you tell what to add next?" Brendon had asked one day as he'd wiped extra dragon scales off the counter and into their proper jar.
"Magic," Gabe replied and Brendon had blinked abruptly at the old pain that triggered unexpectedly. "I mean, talent and practice and all that good shit but really. Magic."
"Oh." Brendon had busied his hands on the jars and he wasn't sure if he was grateful that Gabe was preoccupied enough to be oblivious.
Now, he just waits without offering input while Gabe taps his chin thoughtfully. Brendon has become a lot more adventurous with magic since he's come to work with Gabe and discovered that a lot of magic, especially potion-making, doesn't actually require very much... magic. But there's still a large glaring reminder of his own limitations and Brendon doesn't even want to try making suggestions out of preemptive fear that he'll be completely wrong.
So Brendon waits for the next step. And waits. And waits.
Finally, Brendon realizes that Gabe's no longer staring into space but at something behind Brendon. When he peeks over his shoulder, there's a skinny, tall guy in a t-shirt and tight jeans standing cautiously at the door and Brendon casually slides his body in front of the potion to block it from view. Gabe's shop is located in a neighborhood where magic is pretty prevalent but officially he sells lotions and tacky jewelry. Openly making potions on the front counter where any human could walk by and see it probably isn't the smartest idea in any neighborhood.
The guy looks over the hand lotions at the front of the store for a second, obviously stalling before shaking his hair out of his face and walking over to Brendon and Gabe.
When he heads towards the counter, Brendon suddenly can't breathe. His heart stops in his chest and angels sing and the clouds fucking part or something because it suddenly strikes Brendon like a lightning bolt that this guy's gorgeous. There's an abrupt fuzziness in Brendon's head that won't let him think straight and he leans forward with a small smile.
Vaguely, Brendon can tell that he's staring but he can't seem to bring himself to care or stop himself. The guy- amazing, attractive, wonderful guy- ducks his head uncomfortably as he passes Brendon to get to Gabe and Brendon barely stops himself from grabbing the guy's wrist as he goes by.
Gabe, for his part, looks mostly unaffected. "Out of your potion?" he asks with a nod in Brendon's direction and the guy smiles a little self-consciously, nods.
"I completely forgot that I was running low the past few days." The guy shakes his head, self-deprecating smile curving his lips. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind...?"
"Hey, no trouble at all. Sit tight and keep an eye on Brendon, will you?" Gabe grins at the stranger and then pats Brendon on the head. "Be good. Try not to molest Bill."
Brendon knows he should be offended by that, but it's probably a fair thing to say considering how hard he's eying the guy- Bill, apparently. Brendon takes a seat on the stool behind the counter and the guy stands awkwardly as Gabe disappears into the back to go mix his potion.
Brendon has no real desire for conversation (he's happy just staring at the guy) but Bill looks uncomfortable in the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. "You work here too?" he asks and Brendon tears himself away from his detailed study of the way Bill's too-long hair curls where it meets his neck in order to nod.
"For a few weeks now."
"I figured you were new," Bill says with a thoughtful nod. "I don't remember seeing you around here before."
"I'm sure I've never seen you before- I would remember that," Brendon says and Bill cringes and ducks behind his hair, busying himself with reorganizing a set of lotions on the side of the counter. Brendon just rearranged them a few hours earlier but he's enjoying watching Bill's long fingers twist and turn the bottles too much to stop him.
"I've only got enough of this base to make a week's worth of your potion," Gabe calls from the back. "But I'm getting a new shipment on Tuesday if you want to come back then to pick up more."
Bill straightens the second Gabe starts speaking, maybe thankful for the distraction and Brendon watches him with a curious tilt of his head. "Sure, I'll do that," he says and smiles even though Gabe's in the other room and can't see and for a second Brendon's too busy noting that to properly appreciate the niceness of Bill's smile.
A hand clamps down on Brendon's shoulder a second later and he practically jumps out of his skin, to Gabe's amusement. He laughs above him and then reaches over Brendon to hand Bill a small bag. "So, Tuesday. I'll be ready for you."
And Gabe's tone isn't particularly lecherous, especially not for him, but Bill still looks a little flustered and yet still more comfortable than he did when it was just him and Brendon. "Right. Tuesday," he says with an unconscious flip of his hair. "It was..." he stares at Brendon for a second. "Nice meeting you."
Brendon just nods because, yeah, this is nice. He somehow resists the urge to kiss the back of Bill's hand and then wonders what the hell he was thinking as Bill walks out of the store with a distracted look on his face.
The sensation of his brain being covered in bubble-wrap disappears as soon as Bill leaves.
"What the fuck?" he says and deliberately doesn't say the last word quieter than the rest, like he'd conditioned himself to at home where his mom might overhear him.
Gabe is grinning but his amusement isn't as vast and obnoxious as Brendon would have expected from a situation where Brendon had made an ass of himself over some random customer. "Did Brendon just find himself a boyfriend?" he crows and Brendon kicks at him from the stool.
"No, seriously. What the hell was that?" Brendon's mildly creeped out, both by the situation and by himself.
"That was William Beckett," Gabe says matter-of-factly and still deliberately not answering the question. Brendon's expression must be suitably pouty or mutinous though because Gabe finally takes pity on him and, knowing Gabe, he could have avoided the question a lot longer. "He's a siren."
Brendon blinks, tilts his head. "Siren?" he repeats for clarification.
Gabe waves his hands mysteriously around his head. "Siren. Seductive, sex-on-legs types. Only part siren- hence why he's got man-parts- but still definitely a siren."
That takes some of the sting out of the embarrassment Brendon's feeling. "So does everyone react to him like that?" he asks hopefully.
"Pretty much," Gabe says with a nod and what might be the slightest beginning of a frown, although it's gone when Brendon looks closer. "When he doesn't take the potion I make for him at least. That's definitely not the first time he's forgotten either. I'd think it was on purpose if it wasn't Bill."
"You weren't drooling over him," Brendon points out.
"Well, I'm used to being around beautiful men and women. I'm able to look in the mirror, obviously," Gabe says with a sharp grin and Brendon rolls his eyes until Gabe actually answers. "He doesn't have as much of an effect on magical beings."
Brendon 'hm's and Gabe seems to take that as a loss of interest because he taps the bowl that Brendon was mixing with earlier. "Did you do the venom yet? That's the most important step, I've decided. And now try about half a teaspoon of sugar. Yes, really- it doesn't need to taste like shit."
*****
The next time Brendon runs into William Beckett is equally embarrassing, although for entirely different reasons.
It doesn't take Brendon very long to figure out that the magical scene in Phoenix isn't very big but it's definitely intimate. He wouldn't say 'tight-knit' mostly because that sounds too gentle and most of the get-togethers are alcoholic blurs, but everyone seems to know who everyone else is and a new face sticks out in the crowd. Luckily, most of Gabe's closest friends already know Brendon from the shop but he still feels enough like an outsider at the first party Gabe brings him to that's larger than just two or three people.
"Relax," Gabe says into his ear as he squeezes Brendon's shoulder. "You're not even the only human here."
And that's supposed to help, Brendon can tell, but that doesn't mean he's not the only newcomer here. Gabe gives his shoulder one last friendly pat and then knocks on the door of the unassuming house.
They're greeted by a wiry guy with short hair and a large, lazy grin who Gabe immediately engulfs in a hug.
"Hey," the guy says over Gabe's shoulder, bringing his own arms up to thump Gabe once on the back before smiling at Brendon.
"I'm the Butcher," he says and Brendon immediately sends Gabe a frantic look over the guy's shoulder as they shake hands. The Butcher?
"Nickname," Gabe clarifies, leading Brendon with a hand on his upper back into the house. They step over a box of pizzas and run right into the heart of the party, centered in what appears to be the living room. There are familiar faces- Victoria's taken up most of a couch and is peering over the shoulder of a guy playing poker and Nate appears to be involved in an intense game of beer pong- and Brendon feels himself loosen up a little before the first drink is even passed into his hand. He might be out of his element, but Brendon's pretty good at adjusting to even the most uncomfortable social situations and at least no one's glaring at him like the football players had in high school when he'd mistakenly sat at their lunch table.
"Brendon! C'mere and meet these guys," Vicky T calls him over, slinging an arm over Brendon's shoulders and pressing her face to the side of his. She doesn't quite kiss his temple but he can feel her smile there. "This is Sisky and the guy whose ass we're handing to him is Chislett."
A guy with shortish, curlyish hair turns to give Brendon a quick wave before laying down his hand. Across the makeshift table a blonde guy pouts and shoves his small stack of chips in their direction. "I think you're cheating," he says as Vicky T and Sisky high-five.
"Never!" Sisky claims loudly and then tugs at the Butcher's leg (which is very-much exposed since his entire outfit consists of hot-pink shorts and a bandanna around his neck). "Beer?"
It's easy to relax into the atmosphere and most people just move around Brendon without outright ignoring him. He carves out a nice niche for himself and a spot on the couch next to Victoria, helping them lose a good number of Sisky's chips to Chislett as their side of the table becomes progressively drunker. It's easier to open up to a smaller group and Brendon's loudly telling a story about peeing his pants in freshman year after someone in his English class had told a joke when Victoria suddenly leans over Brendon to hug someone and suddenly William Beckett is hovering at Brendon's shoulder.
He looks good- a little more comfortable, although if it's in his skin or this element Brendon can't tell- and gives Brendon a small smile. "Hey."
Brendon's story abruptly dies off although it's thankfully because of embarrassment and not a debilitating crush. "Uh, hi," Brendon greets lamely. Bill looks just as good as he did at the store, in a v-neck shirt and ripped jeans and long hair, but Brendon's reaction is definitely milder. He can appreciate William's attractiveness and the fact that he has a pleasant, calm voice without staring at him like an idiot.
Thankfully, Sisky saves him from saying anything stupid by grabbing at William, trying to get him to sit down with him. "Bill. Bill, we need you- Chiz is robbing us," he says and William complies. He doesn't help them win any more than Brendon did but he also doesn't mention how he met Brendon so that's something.
Gabe comes and stands over them later, ruffling Brendon's hair like he's fond of doing and then trying the same move on Bill, who protests loudly with a smile on his face. Brendon thinks that he should remember later how Gabe gazes down at William with interested eyes but he forgets when he wakes up the next morning.
It shouldn't be Brendon's scene- he's a human, an outsider and only just pulling away from an upbringing where the hardest thing he drank was an occasional Sprite. But far from home, this is as close as he gets to a family. And if it's the opposite of his blood family- Ryland drunkenly fawning over William Beckett in a British accent, Mike Carden breaking a bottle over Brendon's head as they're tussling for the remote in what comes to be known as an accident, catching Sisky and the Butcher making out on one of the couches when everyone else had supposedly gone to sleep and then nearly catching Gabe and Bill doing something, talking quietly and slowly with their heads bent together and feeling bad when they break apart quickly at Brendon's requests for more chips- then, well, that's okay as far as Brendon's concerned.
*****
Two and a half years with Gabe is like an extended holiday. Brendon learns (about himself and magic, although he can't decide which is more useful knowing) and grows (not taller, although he does fill out the slightest bit and darkens a little in the Phoenix sun).
And when he tells Pete that he's ready to come home, for the summer at least, he means it. He's as ready as he'll ever be, with wounds healed over, not gone but grown over and distinguishable only by the slightest bump like the raised skin of a scar. When Brendon hangs up the phone after making arrangements to come back, it's nowhere near the first time he's spoken with Pete since he's come to Phoenix but it's the first time that Summerlin can sound like home again.
*****
It begins and ends, again, with a guitar.
Brendon literally trips over Ryan Ross on his first day back in Summerlin.
Brendon's walking into Pete's store, his trusty guitar slung over one shoulder and sorely in need of new strings, and his foot snags on the pair of legs stretched across the walkway. Brendon stumbles into the counter at the front of the shop, scattering a few knickknacks from the force.
Ryan looks like a hobo, almost unrecognizable without makeup or a shield of bangs cut angularly over his face. His new haircut is unflattering and there's still a bit of eyeliner smudged carelessly under his eyes, but his skin is glowing healthily even if he's still too skinny. He tucks his long legs back up against himself slowly, a little too late now that Brendon's already tripped over them, and holds the book he was reading to his chest.
"We're closed."
Brendon saw the sign on the door stating as much, but he's an old friend and he knows that Pete's doors are never really closed.
Brendon's throat seems to have closed up though as he struggles for a moment to say something without knowing what he even wants to get out. He can tell that Ryan recognizes him- unlike Ryan, Brendon hasn't changed much these past few years. Not physically, at least.
They stare at each other and Brendon vaguely wonders if Ryan's trying to absorb him with his eyes, noting every little change and filling in every forgotten detail, like Brendon is.
"I've been in love now," Ryan says suddenly, randomly, like that's some sort of shield that might protect him from Brendon.
Brendon hasn't. He's lost his virginity and had his heart broken, but he hasn't been in love since Ryan.
He figured out that he wasn't attracted to girls when Gabe tried to hook him up with an acquaintance, Maja, and the smoking blonde hadn't done anything for him. But beyond physical attraction to a few guys, there wasn't anything incredibly meaningful. He might have had something like a breakdown about being gay if he hadn't already weathered being kicked out of his house, out of his old life- there was no one left to judge him for it other than Brendon himself and his own self-doubt and loathing took a different, more specific route. One more centered around Ryan than guys in general.
"I wasn't in love with you," Ryan says, matter-of-fact and Brendon wants to say 'I know, I know, but that didn't stop me from wanting it so much that I'd hurt you for it.' "I couldn't be, back then. And I don't know you well enough to love you now."
"Alright," Brendon replies. And he knew that, always knew that, even if he maybe didn't want to acknowledge it. He's strong though; he can face this and whatever angry words Ryan tries to throw at him.
"I don't love you," he says again, firmly, and Brendon wonders if there's a look of disbelief on his face, some reason that Ryan feels the need to repeat himself and press the point.
He just nods instead. "Okay," and then "I'm sorry."
The apology hangs awkwardly in the air between them until Ryan nods slowly, and Brendon thinks how weird it is to see his eyes without the cover of eyeliner and bangs.
"I hated you," Ryan tells him, voice monotone but words still enough to make Brendon flinch on their own.
"Yeah," Brendon replies weakly and Ryan lets out a sigh, full of unsaid curses and hatred carried around for years.
"My dad died a couple of months after you left," Ryan says and for a second Brendon's stuck more on the part where Ryan knew that he'd left and he almost doesn't notice that Ryan actually said.
Brendon doesn't know how to respond when he finally does catch up with the words. "I'm sorry," he finally offers, again, broken-record style and Ryan accepts that with a distracted nod, like he's so used to people apologizing for his father's death that he forgets to ignore Brendon's apology.
"And I finally loved him. I mean, I hated him too, finally, after all those years of wanting to be able to hate him for everything. I could do that- hate him, love him." Ryan frowns, picking at something invisible on his hands distractedly. "Forgive him, I guess, for all of it."
Brendon doesn't feel victorious at that, but it's some close, hybrid emotion because as much as he's regretted giving Ryan his heart back, he's always felt an inkling of justification too. Not enough that he'd ever dare tell anyone but it keeps him from sinking into self-loathing sometimes.
"I mean- that means that I actually fucking miss him now," Ryan says and his voice trembles a little under the weight of the words in a way that neither of them acknowledge. "But- it was worth it. It's worth the pain, for the good things."
Brendon squints up into the sunlight just outside the shade of the shop and shoves his hands into his pockets, trying not to remember conversations with Gabe where he might have echoed the same sentiments without realizing it.
"I wrote you a letter," Ryan says, seemingly out of the blue, glancing up at Brendon. "Did Pete ever give it to you?"
Brendon shakes his head. "No."
Pete had kept up his promise to visit, bringing Patrick and occasionally Jon with him and even Hemmy once, memorably. But he'd never mentioned Ryan, other than a certain thoughtful frown he would give Brendon when he thought he wasn't looking sometimes, and he'd never brought a letter to the best of Brendon's knowledge. Brendon had enough to think about without Ryan Ross's input.
"I don't anymore. Don't hate you," he says finally and Brendon looks up from the concrete but can't meet Ryan's eyes, which are studiously avoiding him. "I've had a lot of time to think about it, about myself and about all of this and. About you."
Brendon nods because yeah, he's had the same experience. He spent a lot of those nearly three years thinking about Ryan.
"And about how you were the only person that cared enough to try and get my heart back and the only one who didn't care how much it hurt me-" Brendon winces at that- "because it was what was best for me in the end."
And Brendon's thought about that a lot too. It might not have been pure, mature love that he'd felt for Ryan but it was definitely something; desire and need and selfishness and hormones and friendship and care and fondness and lust all tied together. Brendon's not proud of what he did; there's too much regret mixed up in it but... he's come to realize that he would do it over, again and again, if faced with the same scenario. He can see the wrong in his decision but he can't convince himself that it outweighs Ryan's chance at real life.
Ryan's gaze is on Brendon's guitar now, which seems to be easier for him to look at then his face.
"I didn't love you then," Ryan says quietly. "But I might have- if I could have."
Brendon's never been one for words. He leans down and across his guitar and presses his lips to Ryan's.
There's a butterfly-soft movement in response and when Ryan opens his mouth the smallest bit, maybe to breathe or to say something or maybe in reciprocation, Brendon pulls back. He can't look at Ryan for a second and keeps his eyes on the peek of collarbone that his t-shirt allows until Ryan makes a breathless noise and Brendon can't help but glance up.
Ryan's hair is falling ridiculously into his eyes and Brendon finds himself pushing it back with one hand while the other rests on Ryan's shoulder.
"And now that you can?" Brendon asks, voice too bright with a hope that he tries to contain.
In answer, Ryan closes the distance between them. This time, he's the one that starts the kiss, clinging to Brendon's shirt like he might lose the nerve. Brendon feels his lips curve into a smile against Ryan's.
A lot can change in three years- a lot has changed. But time isn't everything, Brendon knows, and hearts don't forget.