Photography Verse Part One- Cyanotype ii
Going back on tour so soon after the funeral seems rushed, but it has to be done. The familiar smells of bus exhaust fumes and gas station microwavable burritos and showering only after shows grinds into Spencer like sandpaper, a welcome distraction.
Ryan throws himself into the stage makeup with renewed, reverent dedication: his face no longer his own, now a mask of blood and trees and sunsets and birds, all fiercely protecting his real one.
Spencer doesn’t fault Ryan for the ‘if you tilt your face down and to the left it’s a death mask’ look.
Jon and Brendon seem subdued, but that could be the remaining jetlag (or the bone deep aching tired Spencer’s had since Ryan got a call his, their father was dead. He won’t think of lawyers or briefcases or papers. He won’t. ) setting in.
They can’t act distant with each other much, since they can’t, won’t tell anyone.
*
Ryan spent most of his life Not Thinking About His Dad. He poured all his energy into his words, his oscillating image, and the gaping maw of the scene. He spent as much time on these tasks as a DnD addict mainlines Mountain Dew. Spencer had observed, aided, abetted, joined in Ryan’s efforts, so he knew the signs, habits well.
They can’t act distant, but Spencer is all cluttered up about it. He wants to, buts he’s never known how to be remote like that with Ryan. Ryan is probably faring worse because Ryan has always gone to Spencer when he needed to lick his wounds and recoup.
The only time Spencer feels completely at ease is when he’s drumming. The beats wash over him as he pounds them out, melding with Ryan’s rhythm, Jon’s bass line and Brendon’s voice into a beautiful alchemy. He breaks three pairs of sticks before Cortez has him doing ‘calm breathing exercises’ which involve standing oddly and doing some yoga. Cortez swears by it. He tones it done so he doesn’t break them anymore but it doesn’t help anything.
*
The news is unsettling enough but now Spencer has a new frame of reference for viewing the world he has to think on.
The people who raised him, kissed his scrapes and made them better, who grounded him and loved him and taught him how to live. These people are not where he came from. His sisters, who he is exasperated with and protective and caring of. They aren’t his.
No.
His parents are an absentee … mother who left when her husband started getting drunk and beating her and her child. His father beat and berated and taught his brother how to play guitar. If he had grown up like he was supposed to, Ryan’s, his … father would have done the same to him. Spencer would have the same bruises, broken bones and cuts, same aversion to sudden touch and optimism that Ryan has.
Ryan has all this baggage, but he’s had slightly more time to get used to the idea he’ll never get to have any closure about a father that beats you then wants to hug it all better, he’s so sorry, it won’t happen again.
Spencer feels cheated, like he has any room to talk.
*
Ryan curls into his space, refusing to let the media, techs, other bands, waitresses - even the rest of their fractured and still shaky band onto the fact that Spencer and Ryan are now inherently different and yet not. All that’s new is that they know they’re wrong.
Spencer starts to grind his teeth again. Ryan flinches at first but doesn’t say anything on the subject. He’s playing the beat between them too taunt to lose his cool.
It’s not like they’re so wrapped up in their own private black hole that they forget their jobs, forget the band.
*
Brendon and Jon slowly become the best friends Spencer has besides Ryan. They get that this is a rough patch for Spencer and Ryan, close as they are, both supportive of private grief.
Whether it’s playing Guitar Hero 2 or watching the OC or fooling around that one time with Jon, Cortez and ladies’ lingerie, Spencer doesn’t hide from the other two people he’s come to know best, aside from the techs.
One afternoon he walks in on Brendon talking on his phone. Brendon bats him away. He’s turned around, almost out of the room when he hears Brendon say “I love you too, Brent”. Spencer has a new, fresh reason to be jealous of Brendon’s love life like he was seventeen all over again. This time though, he’s mature enough to deal with admitting to himself that he’s really roiling in a sea of vivid green resentment. He decides this does count as personal growth.
So he deals.
*
Ryan still sits with him like an answering parenthetical when they’re all on the couch in any configuration. Still orders Spencer’s favorite coffee (a frappuccino with nutmeg and whipped cream. Ryan’s favorite is a frappuccino with cinnamon and whipped cream. ) for him if Ryan is up first. Still buys extras of Spencer’s favorite lip gloss and eyeliner if Ryan is running low himself. Still curls an arm around him possessively when he feels like it in front of anyone he pleases, camera or no camera.
Spencer would bask in the warm glow of all these little ways that mean Ryan loves him, like glittering sea shells, if not for the skeletal specter that Las Vegas has to come to represent for him.
The crux of it is, he has to let Ryan do this, wants for all the world for Ryan to mean his actions. But his skin still crawls if the situation catches his thoughts at the wrong (or utterly right and practical, moral) time.
The dip of Ryan’s collar bone, the gentle cut of his hips, his chocolate eyes looking lovingly at him, all of this makes Spencer’s stomach turn now.
*
Spencer has to separate his life into Before Funeral and After Funeral, because that’s the only way to make sense of the vortex of crazy that is now his life. (Spencer James Smith V B.F. shares traits with Spencer James Smith V A.F., but they are different people. Spencer B.F. wasn’t sleeping with his brother. Spencer A.F. wants to sleep with his brother. Ergo, they are different people. )
They all go on like this living in half life for three months A.F. before Ryan snaps.
*
They’re in a hotel room when it happens. The room assignments are Ryan & Spencer and Brendon & Jon, the same way it’s been since B.F., static and simple in the face of the tumultuous sea Ryan and Spencer have discovered.
They have a rare free day, no shows, interviews, outstanding engagements.
Spencer thinks Jon and Brendon have gone out exploring in whatever city they found themselves in. Spencer has barely dropped his bags, easing into the idea of stable ground under his shoes.
Ryan pushes him against a wall; Spencer’s right shoulder blade banging against some crappy reproductionist painting’s serrated border edge. He starts to grind his teeth.
“Stop fucking hiding from me. I never knew you to be a coward. Why the hell start now?” Ryan grits out, all 100 pounds sopping wet pushed against him. His voice is low and fluttering away from his showy monotone, as if he hasn’t got a death grip on Spencer’s collar.
But Ryan has never favored yelling when he could sound passably pleasant.
Spencer narrows his eyes. Coward?
“That’s rich coming from you, always running away from daddy when you could have easily smothered him during one of his drunken stupors.” Spencer knows all of Ryan’s weak points by now. Knows Ryan like he knows himself. That’s the problem, the root cause he thinks quicksand flash, idly, before it flits away.
Ryan flinches, but doesn’t lose his steam.
“Coward because you’ve always followed behind me, copying everything I did, too fucking afraid of the big bad world to be by yourself. And now you’re too cowardly to even go through with what you started. You’re too spineless to love me.” Ryan seethes still low and calm sounding as you please, hands on his neck.
Spencer’s had the wind knocked out of him.
Ryan’s always thought no one could love him and Spencer is just proving him right. Spencer has always hated that feeling. Today, right now, is no exception.
Spencer can feel Ryan all around against him, delicate fingers around his neck. He wonders what would happen if Ryan just kept on like that, squeezing and restricting his airflow, like a pink eye-shadowed serpent, kept playing at choking him. He wonders if he would let Ryan kill him quickly like that - not this eighteen year shadow effort he’s been doing. He just … wonders.
Spencer feels Ryan around him, crowding him. He surges forward, punches Ryan in the face. As he punches Ryan, Ryan hooks their feet together - they fall, crashing hard to the floor. They wrestle each other, kicking and twisting and slapping until Ryan knees him in the balls, stays on top.
They’re flushed, breathing hard and angry. They’re tangled together so close that Spencer can feel every bone and joint Ryan has in his body. The short fibers of the carpet dig into the tender flesh of his neck and arms, little slice of hip that’s peaking out of his shirt. Ryan gains his balance finally.
Spencer looks at him, this bony, intense boy he’s known all his life. Ryan stares back, hawk serious.
Spencer isn’t sure how long he stays like that, thinking about Ryan and how much Ryan means to him. Ryan glares back.
He reaches up; cupping Ryan’s face shyly and kisses him chastely. Ryan lets his tentative smile spread to his eyes. Spencer balances himself with his other arm, then kisses Ryan again. Ryan shifts were he is, pressing hard against Spencer’s stomach. He wraps himself around Spencer, holding him. Ryan takes the kissing deeper, but Spencer sets the pace.
Spencer grinds against Ryan’s cock, teasing slightly. Ryan’s eyes flash and then Spencer is flat on his back - again. Ryan busies himself with unzipping, then pulling down their pants. Their hard-ons press against each other and Spencer groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Spencer pushes his boxer briefs down, is about to do the same for Ryan when Ryan stops him, smirking faintly and does it himself.
Ryan touches him feather soft, unusually gentle. Then he rubs rough and fast and Spencer gasps; arches up into Ryan’s hand. Spencer watches as Ryan twists once, twice, long fingers curled around his cock loose then tight before Spencer comes hot and wet in Ryan’s hand.
“I’m going to go get the lube in your bag and then I’m going to fuck you bareback.” Ryan says, calm as you please, if vaguely rough around the edges and throaty.
They never had that kind of sex before. Spencer waits as Ryan extracts himself and gets the lube out of a pocket from Spencer’s bag. They haven’t been intimate like this in months. Ryan’s muscles flex steadily as he moves, working under layers of skin and ligament. Spencer watches with renewed fascination as he gathers his energy.
Ryan comes back vaguely sly and smug. He slicks his fingers up, warming the lube in the process. Spencer spreads his legs, watching. Ryan teases him at first, brushing against his hole, stretching, waiting. Spencer breathes out and Ryan pushes one then two fingers in, scissoring him open.
Spencer doesn’t remember losing control of his words, what he says then. Knows that ‘yes god please more love’ comes out of his mouth, but he can’t think of the order. Ryan leans down, licking at his neck, biting faintly then rougher - claiming him.
“You’re not going to hide from us, this, me again, will you Spence?” Ryan blinks down at him. Spencer shakes his head, regains words - speech. “No I won’t. I’m sorry Ry.” He means it more than anything. Ryan takes out his talented fingers, thrusts in with his cock this time. Spencer bucks up, moaning. Ryan kisses his neck, jaw, licks into Spencer’s pink mouth.
Ryan works up into a good rhythm (the thing that has tied them together for longer than Spencer knows) that Spencer can rock into.
They rumble into each other like that and Spencer can feel himself getting more and more comfortable, more complete, more euphoric with each thrust. Ryan’s grabbed his hips to get better purchase and Spencer is scratching Ryan’s back with his blunt edged nails. Ryan smirks at this; flicking his tongue against Spencer’s left nipple.
Ryan arches up when he comes inside of Spencer. Spencer marvels at the vivid line of Ryan’s throat, the jut of pale collar bone like a cross.
Spencer feels himself being filled, relishes the sensations he hasn’t had in months. His breath hitches as he feels his orgasm uncurl from his spine, wind its way outside of him through guts and nerve endings, wash over him like a wave. Ryan caresses his jaw, slides out of him and lays next to him, awe-looking and satiated.
“I missed you.” Spencer hears himself saying, voice rough with lust.
Ryan fits his head against Spencer’s neck, waiting for him to finish his thought.
“I love you. I’m sick of being ashamed of that fact. Lots of things shouldn’t happen to people, horrific things. You were like a brother to me before. A slip of fancy paper can’t change us.” Spencer finishes.
“Blood and ‘should’ never stopped him from beating her, beating me. Never stopped her from staying gone. He would have beaten you too, if you had been with me then. So they can go to Hell. I won’t lose you to what a society that did nothing to help or stop it wants.” Ryan spits out bitterly, twining his fingers into Spencer’s.
Spencer stands, feet pressing into the worn green carpet, holds out an arm for Ryan to pull himself up. Ryan takes it, heads for a shower. Ryan turns the shower on as Spencer steps in. Spencer presses him against the tiled wall, water splashing at their legs and backs. Ryan grins at him, braces himself for Spencer.
Spencer soaps up his fingers. He rubs at Ryan, dragging them over every sensitive area he knows of. He teases Ryan, making him wriggle around and bite at his own lips, gasping. Runs fingers around Ryan’s opening fast then slow, presses hard then light, then moves on. Spencer leans in to kiss Ryan roughly, biting and nipping then softer. Spencer works a finger inside Ryan, luxuriating in Ryan’s reaction: Ryan bucks up, the head of his cock slick with precome, moaning richly.
Spencer adds more fingers slowly, works his way inside Ryan. He rubs at Ryan’s prostate, fucks Ryan with the even motion of his wrist, thumb gently pressed into the small of Ryan’s back. At this point, Ryan starts begging, low and needy for more more more.
Spencer removes his fingers tenderly, slicks up his hard cock with soap, eases inside of Ryan. Ryan arches inside him, groaning loudly against the tiled wall, slipping slightly before Spencer catches him. Spencer fills him completely, angled directly at his prostate. Ryan kisses him wetly, hungrily.
Spencer finds one of Ryan’s hands that have so far been splayed against the wall, fingers stretched out like talons. He interlaces their fingers as he holds their hands up. Pulls away from the kiss, cheek to cheek with Ryan.
“We’ll always have each other.” He says, because some things need to be said aloud, the important things.
Ryan smiles faintly, tightening around him and then Spencer is coming in long bursts, harder than ever in his life.
“I know.” Ryan tells him raggedly.
Ryan groans and then is coming all over their stomachs. Spencer is gasping now. Spencer gingerly moves them into the line of water, letting the warmth ease his muscles quickly, pleasantly. Ryan kisses him gently, running a soaped up hand between them.
*
They clean up quickly, toweling off just as fast. Spencer feels on top of the world. Everything is right and proper, slotted in its place. He dries his hair as Ryan gathers their dirty clothes. Spencer tosses Ryan some clean ones as he dresses.
A thought creeps up into the foreground of his mind.
“What are you going to do with the briefcase?” Spencer asks. He’s afraid, almost, of the answer.
Ryan pauses in picking up the clean pair of girl jeans that Spencer had tossed him. “What do you want me to do with it? We can’t destroy the papers.” Ryan answers, tension lined in the curve of his back. His monotone is back.
Spencer thinks on this.
“Put it in your safety deposit box in the bank.” He says, suddenly tired.
Ryan looks over at him, rolls his eyes. “Right, because I can just pop off for a quick jaunt to my bank that’s across the country with highly sensitive papers that might get stolen. I’ll think about it.” His tone is sardonic but the tension bleeds out of his spine.
By the time they’re both dressed again, there’s a knock at the door connecting their two rooms. Spencer goes to open it. Brendon bounces in, Jon following happily.
“There’s this awesome little street festival thing they all have going on downtown. We thought you two might want to come.” Jon explains. Spencer cocks his head at this. “Scarves! They have flowery scarves, Ryan!” Brendon adds.
Ryan has been collecting them lately, for what Spencer isn’t sure Ryan even knows yet. Jon surveys the three of them serenely. “It’s a beautiful day out. We could make up a picnic, hang out some.” He tosses out. That would be pleasant enough and Spencer smiles slightly. Ryan’s eyes dart to him and then to Jon, considering it. “That sounds great. Why don’t you two go tell Zack and prepare it?” Ryan says.
Jon chuckles, going out first. Brendon lags behind. “We think its good that you two have made up.” He says before following Jon out.
Ryan looks vaguely paler, but that could be the lighting of the room. Spencer is uneasy and slightly pleased that he has such observant friends. He wouldn’t change anything in his life for all the drumsticks in the world.
Ryan stalks over, hugs him before going to put on his sunglasses. Spencer waits for him and then takes the keycard, goes to find Jon, Brendon and Zack, Ryan following.
*
When they find the street fair, it really is a nice day out. The sky is a bright powder blue and the suns drifts down between puffy clouds. They wander around in a messy formation looking at all the curios and artwork, nick knacks and kitsch.
Ryan eventually does buy a scarf, a floral and vibrant orange and yellow print. Jon takes random pictures with a camera he brought. Brendon and Zack find a music box with elephants and other circus animals in it, with a porcelain girl on a trapeze. Spencer soaks in the day, looking at everything around him in a happy daze.
After a few hours they all decide to find a park to eat their lunch in. Zack managed to find vegan things for Brendon to eat and Brendon loudly declares that Zack is his favorite.
They’re outside under some trees when Jon looks over at Spencer and Ryan. He blinks. And blinks again.
“Can I take a picture? The lighting is fantastic.” He asks deferentially, as if they’ll say no and run away like skittish deer.
Spencer and Ryan nod. The camera clicks and flashes at them. Spencer momentarily sees black and rainbow dots and shakes his head to clear his vision.
Jon sets the camera down inside the empty picnic basket and they all start eating. A tiny food fight erupts between Jon and Brendon starting with cherry tomatoes. Spencer watched mildly while Ryan ignored them and talked with Zack until Brendon ducked behind Ryan who got hit by Jon. Ryan rolled his eyes and flicked it back at him. Brendon lent him ammunition and then the food fight escalated into other foods.
Brendon gets up, Ryan chasing him around with Jon hot at his heels. Zack watch in mirth as Spencer runs to get in front of Brendon. It works: the four of them tumble down, laughing and crowing at each other.
The fight dies down after that and they clean up as best they can. Zack laughs as Brendon picks a crushed tomato out of his hair.
The five of them head back to the hotel a few hours before the sun sets. Brendon goes to call Brent. Zack goes to hang out with the tech crew. Jon says he wants to develop his pictures.
*
Spencer and Ryan go to unpack and then they make out for awhile. They watch some tv, make bad jokes about the crappy local programming and talk.
Ryan is journaling and texting Pete on his Sidekick and Spencer is reading The Economist, starring in utter amazement about how the magazine is underestimating his generation, both in their night clothes when there’s a knock at the connecting door.
Ryan glances at him and Spencer rolls his eyes and pushes him out of the bed. Ryan huffs and turns off his Sidekick after sending a goodbye text. Spencer shuts the journal with a book mark in place, keeps a hold of the pen, and shuts his magazine. Ryan goes to open the door.
Brendon is standing there with a serious look on his face. He’s holding a briefcase - their briefcase and a plain manila file folder. He walks in and sets them on the other bed.
“Earlier today I was looking for a legal pad to write a note to myself and Jon was helping me. That fell by accident. It wasn’t locked properly I guess, so everything came spilling out. We picked them up and saw what they were. At first I was angry, disgusted. Angry because you both lied to us. Disgusted because family shouldn’t do that, it’s a fundamental taboo. But. But Brent has to take a little pill every morning to make him feel like he doesn’t want to die and another one to make it so he can deal with people. Pills were a taboo, too and I got used to being ok with that, because he needs them. And you both love each other, you didn’t know. So do what you both need to do.” Brendon says.
“Oh, and when you’re ready, Jon says he has something to tell us. I don’t think he’s mad.” He adds and then leaves, closing the door with a sharp click.
Ryan is sheet pale, rooted to the floor. Spencer is shocked. He gets out of the bed and opens the file folder. It’s the picture Jon took of them from earlier in the day. He and Ryan are both smiling at each other, full of love and warmth, like they belong only with each other. That is not what’s unique about this particular picture, since they’ve looked at each other in varying degrees of the same expression for years.
The lighting though. The lighting, dappled in sunshine and tree leaves, shadowy and iridescent. The tilt of their jaws, heads turned just so.
In that lighting, they look related, like brothers.
Spencer shows the picture to Ryan, marveling at it, holding it delicately, reverently.
Ryan blinks at it. He’s regained some of the color he lost when Brendon came in. He touches the lines of their jaws, arches of their eyes. He steels his jaw, going to the door. Spencer breathes, sets the picture down on the bed next to the briefcase and follows Ryan through the door.
*
Part Two- Zoom Burst i