Let Each Who Is Worthy: Epilogue
Brendon isn’t sure what wakes him-Spencer’s soft snores, Jon’s louder ones, or Ryan mumbling something in his sleep that sounds like an argument with their producer, Matt. One arm is trapped under Ryan’s side, long since fallen asleep. His other hand is held to Spencer’s chest. Ryan’s got one crazy long leg thrown over both Brendon and Spencer’s. Brendon feels safe. He doesn’t think about falling any more. There are so many hands to catch him.
He lays in the dark, unsure if his eyes are open or not, unsure if he is awake or not. He gently eases his hand out from under Ryan’s side, shaking it back to life. Ryan moans and Brendon tucks his arm around Ryan’s shoulders instead, fingers running absently over the soft, invisible hairs at the back of Ryan’s neck. The bedside clock reads 7:08 in bright green but he already feels awake and ready to go, and another fifty minutes of trying to sleep will only make him feel restless.
They’ve kicked off the covers in the night. Ryan’s on some energy conscious kick and refuses to let them turn on the a/c until it’s officially summer. Rain slants against the windowpane, and Brendon hopes that means it’s going to be cooler today.
Brendon doesn’t really miss home. He likes their new apartment in Chicago with all the extra space for their instruments and the huge king bed everyone on the label chipped in and bought them after they signed, but the bed here isn’t much smaller and they tend to gravitate towards the centre, anyway.
The thing is, they’re making music every day, together, and that’s all Brendon needs to be content. His bandmates and music. That’s as good as home.
No one else is awake, so he decides to take advantage of the fact and indulge in a long shower. Usually at least one of his boys will crowd into the shower with him. They learned early on that three is seriously the most they should try to fit, lest heinous injury befall them.
It isn’t that Brendon doesn’t like sharing the shower with them, or the sex that inevitably follows, but sometimes it’s just nice to stand under the hot spray alone, lazily jerking off while the water works away the tension in his back and shoulders.
Spencer’s up when Brendon gets out, chopping veggies for omelettes. Brendon grabs another knife and helps him with dicing the onions, bumping his hip gently against Spencer’s in greeting.
“Pete says he’s thinking about June 27th for the release,” Ryan says, coming in with his sidekick in hand, already tapping out a response. “Then going out with them and Cobra Starship and The Academy Is… in August.”
Brendon puts down the knife and grabs Ryan around the waist, lifting him a little and twirling in a circle. Ryan laughs and holds on one armed, still trying to write Pete with the other. “On tour,” Brendon says, when he sets Ryan back on the ground.
Ryan puts the sidekick on the table, devoting his full attention to Brendon. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly, looping his arms around Brendon’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “On tour.”
It’s been a headache, the making of their album. Their producer has certain ideas about their sound that don’t really mesh with what Ryan and Jon want and Brendon’s just infinitely grateful that most of the problems Ryan had with his vocals were worked out prior to going into the studio.
There had still been plenty of fights over how Brendon sings the lyrics, where everyone else left the studio, tension thick in the air, unwilling to see it to the end. Which is probably for the best, since the end usually involved one of them fucking Ryan against any convenient flat surface available.
They’ve gotten through all the stress knowing that no matter what goes on in the studio, at the end of the day they get to go home together and unwind. Jon somehow made a connection within their first few days in Maryland. Most nights they come home to weed and pizza and lazy nights in bed, fucking or making new music, or just talking until the sun is peaking around the curtains.
After a lot of talks with Pete and Patrick, they’ve decided to go with Ryan’s older stuff for their first album. They have more of it ready, it has a nice, cohesive sound, and it isn’t too ambitious for a debut.
Brendon thinks it’s best that way, anyway. He loves the music Jon and Ryan have made together, but he loves Ryan’s music, too, and he thinks it would be a shame if the world never got to hear it. They’ll just have a really strange follow up, is all.
“I just want to remind everyone that my contract explicitly said no roses on my clothing. Ever,” Spencer says as he whisks the eggs with the milk and cheese.
“You don’t appreciate my artistic vision, Spence,” Ryan moans, letting go of Brendon to go hang off Spencer.
“It’s really tragic,” Spencer agrees blandly.
Jon stumbles in, hair sticking up all over the place, still half asleep, scratching his bare stomach. “Tragic? Are we talking about the roses again?” Ryan flips him off on his way to the table and Jon catches him around the middle, kissing his neck until Ryan stops struggling against it. He lays his arms over Jon’s, holding them to him.
Brendon loves Fever, but as he watches his band over breakfast-stealing bites off each other’s places, sharing kisses between bites, sending texts back and forth instead of speaking and then laughing at themselves-he thinks it’s kinda funny that people are going to listen to it and think, wow, those guys must be miserable.
“What?” Ryan asks suspiciously, and Brendon realises he’s been staring off into space, a goofy smile on his face.
“Just…really happy,” Brendon says. It’s still a surprise every time he says it and means it. Hard to accept after years of never meaning it. Unbelievable that he’s known Ryan and Jon and Spencer fewer than six months, sang for Pete three months ago, and will have an album out in less than a month.
Ryan sighs and ruffles his hair. “You’ll wear roses for me, right Brendon?”
Brendon smiles and ducks his head. He remembers his father telling him that every day is a test. He remembers being alive without living. He thinks if this is the worst test he has to face, he can take one for the team. “Anything for your artistic vision, Ryan,” he answers.