65. Secret
Brendon's math notebook is his catch-all notebook, the one where he doesn't bother with taking many notes in class, instead he just doodles boxes and Batmen and writes his name in various scripts and jots down sentences and phrases he thinks might make good lyrics one day. If, y'know, Ryan ever says he needs any help. Brendon is so there to help. He is a helper.
There's only one rule to his notebook - he has to fill a page before he starts another one.
Well, two rules. The first one is that nobody else ever gets to read it. Then the fill-a-page-before-you-turn-it rule.
It's a Tuesday and it's raining, and Brendon's not thinking about how he's still slowly unpacking his boxes in his new apartment, and he had to cover someone's shift at the Smoothie Hut the night before and he still hasn't done his government homework that's due in two periods, and Ryan yelled at him a lot during their last practice and Ryan was right to, he kinda sucked. Instead, he's gnawing at his lower lip and thinking about how after practice, Spencer drove him home and they stopped for ice cream, and Spencer gave him one of those long sideways hugs he gives Brendon when he's worried about him, and Brendon pressed his face into Spencer's neck and all of a sudden he really wanted to lick it.
Brendon's jaw clenches, like his fingers clench around his pen. Slowly, he shapes letters onto a fresh new page.
g-a-y
In a weird way, it's an acknowledgement, an admission, and Brendon's cheeks flame with anxiety and shame, and he fights an urge to scribble the word out. Instead, he frowns and draws a thundercloud over it, shading it grey, making it rain down on the three letters. Then he starts drawing, writing, nervously trying to fill up the page so he can get away from the little word in the center, put some distance between it and himself.
The page fills up, along with that week and the week after that. Brendon tends to flip past that page in his notebook a little hurriedly during class, but he's growing more comfortable with its presence. Three weeks after he drew the raincloud, he smirks and draws a rainbow shooting out of the side of it, off the side of the page. He figures it's some sort of progress.
That Sunday, after the rainbow, Spencer drives him home as usual. They stop at Burger King and Spencer gets Brendon a chocolate milkshake and a large order of fries, and even lets Brendon take a few cheek-hollowing sucks of his own strawberry shake before they get to Brendon's place. Brendon talks Spencer into getting out of the car and coming in to watch tv for a while, at least long enough for an episode of Family Guy.
They sprawl all over Brendon's bed/couch and talk through two episodes. The third one, Brendon hasn't seen before, and he's so engrossed that the show is halfway over before he realizes Spencer's asleep. Spencer's asleep, and leaning on his shoulder.
Which isn't exactly weird or anything, it's not like he and Spencer have huge personal bubbles around each other. (It's not like anyone manages to have a huge personal bubble around him, Brendon privately admits. Except for Ryan, but whatever, Ryan isn't human.) Still, it's not exactly usual for Brendon and Spencer to be close enough that Brendon can smell Spencer's shampoo, that he can feel Spencer's ribs contract and expand with his breathing.
Brendon stares down at him for a few seconds, and then his breath hitches. Spencer's eyes slit open, and Spence smiles up at him, and yawns.
The next day during math class, Brendon gazes down at the blank page of his notebook for a while, and then starts to write.
s-p-e-n-c-e-r
He sits back for a minute, looking at the word, and then licks his lip as he draws a heart around it.
12/03
There's only one rule to his notebook - he has to fill a page before he starts another one.
Well, two rules. The first one is that nobody else ever gets to read it. Then the fill-a-page-before-you-turn-it rule.
It's a Tuesday and it's raining, and Brendon's not thinking about how he's still slowly unpacking his boxes in his new apartment, and he had to cover someone's shift at the Smoothie Hut the night before and he still hasn't done his government homework that's due in two periods, and Ryan yelled at him a lot during their last practice and Ryan was right to, he kinda sucked. Instead, he's gnawing at his lower lip and thinking about how after practice, Spencer drove him home and they stopped for ice cream, and Spencer gave him one of those long sideways hugs he gives Brendon when he's worried about him, and Brendon pressed his face into Spencer's neck and all of a sudden he really wanted to lick it.
Brendon's jaw clenches, like his fingers clench around his pen. Slowly, he shapes letters onto a fresh new page.
g-a-y
In a weird way, it's an acknowledgement, an admission, and Brendon's cheeks flame with anxiety and shame, and he fights an urge to scribble the word out. Instead, he frowns and draws a thundercloud over it, shading it grey, making it rain down on the three letters. Then he starts drawing, writing, nervously trying to fill up the page so he can get away from the little word in the center, put some distance between it and himself.
The page fills up, along with that week and the week after that. Brendon tends to flip past that page in his notebook a little hurriedly during class, but he's growing more comfortable with its presence. Three weeks after he drew the raincloud, he smirks and draws a rainbow shooting out of the side of it, off the side of the page. He figures it's some sort of progress.
That Sunday, after the rainbow, Spencer drives him home as usual. They stop at Burger King and Spencer gets Brendon a chocolate milkshake and a large order of fries, and even lets Brendon take a few cheek-hollowing sucks of his own strawberry shake before they get to Brendon's place. Brendon talks Spencer into getting out of the car and coming in to watch tv for a while, at least long enough for an episode of Family Guy.
They sprawl all over Brendon's bed/couch and talk through two episodes. The third one, Brendon hasn't seen before, and he's so engrossed that the show is halfway over before he realizes Spencer's asleep. Spencer's asleep, and leaning on his shoulder.
Which isn't exactly weird or anything, it's not like he and Spencer have huge personal bubbles around each other. (It's not like anyone manages to have a huge personal bubble around him, Brendon privately admits. Except for Ryan, but whatever, Ryan isn't human.) Still, it's not exactly usual for Brendon and Spencer to be close enough that Brendon can smell Spencer's shampoo, that he can feel Spencer's ribs contract and expand with his breathing.
Brendon stares down at him for a few seconds, and then his breath hitches. Spencer's eyes slit open, and Spence smiles up at him, and yawns.
The next day during math class, Brendon gazes down at the blank page of his notebook for a while, and then starts to write.
s-p-e-n-c-e-r
He sits back for a minute, looking at the word, and then licks his lip as he draws a heart around it.
12/03