Let Each Who is Worthy Part 8

[moku_youbi]

Spencer isn’t quite sure how it’s fallen to him to pick up the pieces of Jon and Brendon’s indiscretion, but he finds himself hugging Brendon as he freaks out. Spencer tries to be reassuring to him, but there isn’t much he can promise beyond, “Ryan will be back, Brendon.”

“I was so stupid,” Brendon says. “I thought he didn’t…I knew he did, but I told myself he didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Spencer asks, pushing Brendon’s hair back from his face.

“Why are you being nice to me after what I did?” Brendon asks.

Spencer gives him a small smile because he’s going to be okay with this, no matter what. No matter how badly it hurts that Jon and Ryan and Brendon seem to keep falling into these things with one another and Spencer’s left struggling to be included, feeling as though he’s on the outside.

“Do you love Jon?” Spencer asks.

Brendon sighs and looks uncertainly from Spencer to Jon and back. “Yes,” he says.

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “Then I can’t be mad at you. I can’t be mad at him, because if you’d come to me, I probably would have done the same thing.” Except that he wouldn’t have hurt Ryan like that. Couldn’t have, which is why he’s fought so hard to keep from even flirting with Brendon.

“All the same, it might be a good idea if you sleep at your own place tonight,” Spencer says.

The look on Brendon’s face, tragic and scared, makes Spencer hug him tighter. “It’s what I tried to tell Ryan,” Brendon says. “I told my parents. I told them all of it, about my mission and being with Ryan. They said they were going to call the mission house. My companions probably already know. I’ll have to go get my things…I don’t know what they’ll say to me.”

“Brendon,” Spencer says and tries to figure a way to ask delicately. Then, he thinks, given the situation, maybe delicacy isn’t really required. “Why would you tell your parents about Ryan, knowing that you were risking everything, only to cheat on him with Jon?”

Jon, who’s been silently watching all of this, reaches for Brendon’s hand. Brendon takes a shuddery breath and says, “Before Ryan, I thought if there was a guy that could get me to break my rules, it would be one of you three, and Jon was there that first day I forgot my medicine and he was so wonderful. I don’t think I’d have stopped taking the pills if it wasn’t for meeting up with him that day and I thought that…”

Brendon pauses, cheeks red with a blush, but when he speaks again, he sounds more determined. “I was greedy and I wanted it, so I told myself that it was alright because Ryan wouldn’t care anyway.” The expression on his face makes Spencer feel inexplicably guilty.

“Okay. Just, maybe you should lay low for the next few days. Stay out later, go straight to Jon’s room when you get back. Give Ryan a chance to cool down. He’s probably going to say a lot of really horrible things,” Spencer says.

When Ryan is in the mood for it, he’s the most creatively vicious person Spencer’s ever met, and Spencer’s been on the receiving end more than once. He’s usually worse with people he actually cares about, which is more fucked up than Spencer sometimes knows how to deal with.

“I deserve whatever he says and does,” Brendon says. His voice sounds a little hollow. “He’s not going to forgive me for this, no matter what I do, is he?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Brendon nods resignedly. “I’m going to make dinner,” Spencer says, because he needs to have something to do, other than sitting here listening to this and growing more and more morose with each word.

Jon goes to get Brendon’s things from his apartment and Brendon trails after Spencer into the kitchen. Brendon sees the things-the ingredients Ryan bought for his favourite dinner, the roll of cookies with the hearts and he just folds in on himself.

Spencer hugs him, rubs soothingly at Brendon’s back. He doesn’t say it will be alright, because they both would know it was a lie. He presses a kiss to Brendon’s temple and Spencer hates his life with a vengeance.

Brendon, exhausted from crying, passes out before dinner’s finished and Spencer is left alone with Jon, and doesn’t know how to talk to him.

“Are you really not angry?” Jon asks.

“I’m not angry,” Spencer says wearily.

“Spence, you can tell me. You can be mad at me. I fucking deserve it.” He looks so sincere and desperate, like he wants Spencer’s anger.

“But I’m not,” Spencer says. He wants to reach out, but he doesn’t know if that’s still allowed. “We were both honest about our feelings for Brendon.”

“You’re okay that I acted on them?” Jon demands. It’s sort of ridiculous that his voice is raising, like he’s the one with something to be angry about.

Spencer shrugs. “What do you want me to say, Jon? I’m not mad at you. I’m hurt. I’m trying to figure out why it is that the rest of you seem to just get what you want without even trying and I’m left to pick up the pieces each time.” He tries not to sound bitter when he adds, “I just wish you would have thought of Ryan.”

Objectively, Spencer knows he should be angry on Ryan’s behalf. Ryan’s been cheated on more times than Spencer cares to consider right now, but Spencer never thought that Brendon would be another one on that list. In total contradiction to his best friend duties to kick Jon and Brendon’s asses, Spencer only feels regret and a dull stab of anger towards Ryan.

“I’ve got a lot of homework,” Spencer says, after dinner, and locks himself up in his room. The walls are so thin, he hears Jon going into his own room and the soft murmur of voices, so he puts on his headphones and reads for two hours without taking anything in.

Spencer is still up when Ryan makes his way home. He comes out into the hall when he hears the front door close. When Ryan comes down the hall, Spencer can tell just by looking what he’s been up to.

“What?” Ryan asks, tone belligerent.

“Ryan,” Spencer says, weary. “Are you drunk?”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Ryan says.

“And what the hell is your problem with me?” Spencer asks.

Ryan pauses at his door and gives Spencer a derisive sneer. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” he asks.

“You mean because I’m willing to discuss things like an adult instead of running out, getting drunk and having sex with some stranger?” Spencer asks. There’s a hot rush of anger and adrenaline in his veins, familiar from hundreds of fights with Ryan, but sharper somehow, too.

“Yes, you’re so much more mature than me,” Ryan says. “You’ve been so grown up about the whole thing, really, taking up with Jon in the first place. I guess you knew then that it was inevitable he’d stray when offered something better.”

“I guess it’s the same way you knew Brendon would leave you once he realised you were only ever using him in the first place, and he could be with someone who actually loves him,” Spencer says. It doesn’t help with the anger and hurt, because Ryan knows him too well, knows how to say all the things that are true and will hurt the worst.

It isn’t even satisfying to see the look of pain that flashes over Ryan’s face before he schools his features, giving Spencer a sharp, mean, knowing look. “That’s right,” he says, “I didn’t even love him. How does it feel when you do love the guy who cheats on you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, slamming his door shut behind him.

Ryan always leaves fights unresolved, too angry or too cowardly to finish them. Spencer is left feeling dizzy from unused energy and all the things he’s left unsaid. He’s half-tempted to shout them through the door, but that’s more Ryan’s style, and besides, Spencer doesn’t want to give Ryan the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten so far under Spencer’s skin.

Instead, he takes a long, hot shower, water burning his skin and it still doesn’t help. His skin is bright red in the mirror, and he still wants to punch something. Ryan, or even Jon, he doesn’t care right now, just that Ryan’s right and maybe Spencer can’t blame Jon for what he’s done, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

There’s a sliver of light coming from his room, faint, like from his reading light, which he knows he didn’t leave on. Brendon and Jon are sitting on top of his covers, heads bent together, whispering. Spencer pushes the door all the way open and they fall silent, looking up at him with big eyes. Spencer sort of hates his life.

“What are you doing in here?” Spencer asks. He just wants to fall asleep and stay that way for a year or two.

“We heard you fighting with Ryan,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, well, that’s not exactly anything new or earth-shattering,” Spencer says dryly. “You guys can go back to sleep. There isn’t going to be any more yelling tonight.” He feels, absurdly, like a parent who’s been fighting with his spouse, now soothing his children. He really hates his life.

Brendon bites his lip and wraps his fingers around his toes, looking like a big child. He and Jon share a look. “Spence, you were so great earlier,” Brendon says. “I was so messed up, and I didn’t think about what I was doing, and then when I realised that I might lose you, along with Ryan…”

Spencer really doesn’t feel like hearing what a great, understanding guy he is. “You aren’t going to lose me,” he says wearily. “I am actually a separate person from Ryan, with thoughts and opinions of my own.”

“My point is,” Brendon goes on, undeterred, “that I was so upset and distracted, I wasn’t really hearing everything, you know?”

Spencer doesn’t know, but he nods anyway. “When you said that you’d have done the same, with me,” Brendon says.

Spencer just wishes he’d shut up. He wishes he could go back and start this whole day over again, and make sure this mess never happened. “I was just trying to-” he starts, but Brendon shakes his head and speaks over him.

“I wasn’t thinking about it then, but later I realised what you had said. What you meant.” Spencer waits silently, even though he wants to stop this. “I think you misunderstood me. I wasn’t trying to take Jon away from you.”

“I know that,” Spencer says, “that’s why I’m not angry.”

Jon huffs a frustrated sigh. “I still don’t think you understand,” he says. He stands and grabs both of Spencer’s hands in his, drawing him closer.

“Remember when I told you that you weren’t a consolation prize?” Jon asks. “I wasn’t just saying that. I want Ryan and I want Brendon, and I want you, too. I wasn’t just using you. I know it was selfish and stupid, what Brendon and I did, but I wasn’t choosing Brendon over you. You can tell me I’m a greedy asshole, and I know it, it’s true, but I want both of you.”

Spencer opens his mouth only to find he has nothing to say. Part of him-a large part-is ready to be really fucking angry and land that punch he’s been thinking about since his shower. Because Jon is a greedy asshole, and does he think Brendon’s stupid enough to fall for this shit? Does he think Spencer is? This is the sort of game you try to play with silly little sorority girls, and it’s plain insulting that Jon is trying it here.

Yet, there’s a smaller part whispering impossible things, and that’s the part that Spencer finds himself listening to. It’s saying that maybe Jon isn’t suggesting what Spencer thinks he is. Maybe Jon’s suggesting something else. Messier, more complicated and potentially disastrous.

Spencer looks Jon in the eye and Jon nods slightly. His fingers tighten around Spencer’s for a second. The two of them look at Brendon, who’s watching them with wide, anxious eyes. He looks as if he isn’t entirely certain what’s going on, but he’s silent, waiting for them.

Spencer can think of several reasons that this is a bad idea, from his best friend and Brendon’s ex-boyfriend, right down to the fact that Brendon is still new to relationships and he’s just come out to his parents, been disowned, and kicked out of his home. He’s emotionally fragile, and Spencer doesn’t want to take advantage of that.

Spencer takes his hands back from Jon. “This is going to make things worse,” he says, but it’s barely a protest, and Jon knows it.

“Things can’t get any worse,” Brendon whispers, tugging at his big toe. His lip wobbles when he speaks, like the tears are threatening to come back, and Spencer can’t bear to see that again.

Spencer thinks, things really can’t get any worse at this point, and maybe that’s a lie, but he wants this so badly. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for Brendon’s hand. Brendon turns his palm up to lace his fingers with Spencer’s and gives Spencer a hesitant, sad smile.

“Is this what you want?” Spencer asks.

Brendon shrugs with one shoulder. “I don’t. I can’t…I’ve been told all my life what I’m supposed to want, and lately I’ve been trying to figure out what it is that I actually want. It’s so different from everything I’ve ever been told, I don’t even know how to explain it.

“I’m sort of freaked out by it, actually,” Brendon says. He sinks toward Spencer, angling for a hug, and Spencer wraps an arm over Brendon’s shoulders.

“Now that I’m actually allowing myself to think about it, I’m downright terrified. But I’ve lost a lot, and I don’t want to lose this, because I’m too…” Brendon breaks off, yawning, and tries again, “because I’m too scared to say anything about it.”

Spencer presses a kiss to the top of Brendon’s head, rubs his cheek against Brendon’s soft hair. It’s been growing out of the awkward, close cut he had when he first moved in and it suits him much better. All the changes look good on Brendon, make it difficult for Spencer to ignore what he wants.

Brendon tips his head back and lays one hand against Spencer’s cheek. “Can we?” Brendon asks. His face is close and his eyes are on Spencer’s mouth. It’s impossible to misunderstand what he’s asking.

Spencer gives in, closing the distance between them. Brendon’s lips are soft and hesitant and the kiss only lasts a few seconds before Brendon’s yawning again. Spencer laughs quietly and Brendon blushes and whispers, “Sorry,” lips brushing Spencer’s as he speaks.

“Maybe we should talk about this in the morning,” Spencer suggests. He unwraps his arm from around Brendon’s shoulders to take his hand again and Brendon’s face falls a little. “You’re exhausted,” Spencer says.

Jon sits on the bed beside him, trapping Spencer between the two of them. He takes Spencer’s free hand and Brendon’s and Spencer looks at the lopsided, misshapen circle their arms make. It needs a fourth, he thinks, to smooth it out.

“Just, let’s…In the morning,” Spencer reasserts. “You guys can…” He doesn’t want to assume too much and god knows his double bed wasn’t made for this. But. He swallows. “You guys want to stay in here tonight?”

Jon gives him a sly smile and Brendon’s face brightens, and that settles it, apparently. There’s a flurry of bedcovers and a brief struggle to get the pillows adjusted correctly to fit three people, and somehow in all of this, Spencer finds himself on his back, in the middle, Jon and Brendon curled up on either side. Brendon holds Spencer’s hand over his stomach and Jon throws a possessive leg over Spencer’s hips. The two of them make Spencer feel weighted down and wanted.

When Spencer surfaces from his dreams, he doesn’t remember more than a blur of skin and wet mouths, but he’s hard and Brendon’s got one of his legs between Spencer’s. In his sleep, Spencer’s rolled onto his side and now Jon is spooned against his back, dick pressing against Spencer’s ass. Brendon’s still asleep, held in Spencer’s arms, mouth open and breath warm on Spencer’s throat.

Spencer’s still half asleep. He doesn’t think about morning breath, or Ryan being in the next room over, or consequences. He fits his mouth over Brendon’s, tracing his tongue around the shape of Brendon’s lips. Brendon mouths back absently, like he’s still asleep, but Jon’s hand goes tight on Spencer’s hip and Spencer knows he’s watching.

Brendon moans when Spencer finally slides his tongue inside Brendon’s mouth, and then he begins to move slowly, unwinding from his semi-foetal position to wrap his arms around Spencer’s neck. His leg between Spencer’s nudges upward as he slides closer, and then Brendon’s erection is pressed tightly against Spencer’s hip.

Spencer’s right hand is trapped between Brendon’s waist and the mattress, but his free hand wanders under the hem of Brendon’s t-shirt, finding the warm, smooth skin of Brendon’s back. He lets his fingers skip up Brendon’s spine and Brendon shivers and kisses him harder, with sudden awareness and intent.

Brendon’s kisses are sweet and inexpert and if kisses can be earnest, Brendon’s are. Spencer could spend a few hours like this, rubbing against Brendon’s knee, memorising Brendon’s mouth and the taste of him. But Jon’s hands tug at Spencer’s waistband and Brendon hums a sound of approval, moving enough for Jon to get the pants down over Spencer’s hips.

“This okay?” Spencer asks, running his hand over Brendon’s side and tickling down his ribs. He waits, fingers just under Brendon’s waistband, for Brendon’s response. Brendon opens his eyes sluggishly and looks down between their bodies, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. He nods and doesn’t look away, watching as Spencer slides his hand inside, lower, and lower, until he’s got his fingers wrapped around Brendon’s cock.

Brendon sighs Spencer’s name, working his hips closer and Spencer tugs gently, pausing at the end to rub a circle around the head. Brendon groans and arches his back, leaking in Spencer’s hand.

Jon pushes up on one arm to lean over Spencer and swallow Brendon’s sounds with his mouth. Spencer watches them kiss, heart racing at the sight. He’d know he wanted them both, but until this moment, he hadn’t realised that he wants them with each other, too. It makes him relax, makes this feel easier.

Jon turns his head out of the kiss, just slightly, so Brendon only has half of his mouth and it only takes Spencer half a second to understand and surge forward to fit his mouth against theirs. It’s awkward, the way their bodies are all twisted together, and Spencer’s neck aches from the angle, but he doesn’t want to stop.

It’s Jon who leaves the kiss first, falling back behind Spencer to lay kisses over his shoulder and neck, at the top of his spine. Brendon easily adapts back to a regular kiss, hungrily lapping at Spencer’s mouth, and Spencer answers with a squeeze of his fist that has Brendon thrusting into his hand.

Brendon reaches down to return the favour at the same time that two of Jon’s cool, lube slicked fingers press inside Spencer’s ass. Spencer breaks the kiss, head falling heavily against his pillow. He grits his teeth against crying out and can’t figure out which way to go.

Above him, Brendon and Jon are kissing, and maybe that’s how they get a rhythm going, because the awkward give and take from either side quickly evens into something better and they begin to move together, jerking and thrusting in time. Spencer gives himself over to it, hand going limp around Brendon.

Jon’s teeth scrape across the back of Spencer’s neck and he murmurs, “Ready?” Spencer nods, breath coming fast, and Jon slides into place, the head of his cock pressing against Spencer’s hole. Jon thrusts forward in one smooth motion and Spencer bites down hard on his lip.

Brendon leans forward, breath puffing over Spencer’s lips before tracing the spot with his tongue, soothing. Spencer opens his mouth and remembers Brendon’s cock, hard and hot in his hand. He tries to make it good, but it’s already asking a lot that he’s even moving his hand in the first place, with Jon fucking him and Brendon jerking him off and kissing him so sweetly.

The thing is, it’s hot and sweaty and uncomfortable. A double bed was never made for this sort of action, and the covers are bunched around Spencer’s legs, his ankles trapped together by his pants and his hand is falling asleep under Brendon’s side… Yet sex has never been this intensely good.

Brendon’s whimpering into Spencer’s kiss, fingers rough and desperate on Spencer’s cock. Jon bites the skin just beneath Spencer’s ear with enough force to leave a mark and he pants Brendon and Spencer’s names. Spencer never thought he’d be alright hearing another person’s name called during sex, but he supposes this is a good day for firsts.

Jon sets up a quick pace, rocking hard and deep with each thrust. It’s tight, Spencer’s legs trapped like they are, but it feels amazing, like the first time all over again. Brendon hooks a leg over Spencer and Jon’s hips and then his hand is brushing Spencer’s with every flick of the wrist, their dicks bumping.

There’s a little fumbling between them, neither willing to end the kiss to actually look or ask, but they manage to get their hands wrapped around both their dicks together, and that’s so much better.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Jon says, and Spencer doesn’t know which of them Jon means, or if he means both of them, and then he decides it doesn’t even matter. “Shit, Spence. He’s so tight, Brendon, you have to fuck him.”

Spencer groans at the thought and Brendon’s eyes fly open in surprise. He bites down hard on Spencer’s lip and twists his wrist just right, and Spencer comes apart in his hand.

Lethargy spreads through him and Spencer barely has the presence of mind to keep his hand moving over Brendon’s cock, but Brendon laces their fingers together and it’s only another few seconds before he’s coming, too.

Jon, ever the gentleman, waits until Brendon’s gone before following. His fingers go tighter on Spencer’s hips and he jerks hard twice more, face buried in Spencer’s hair.

“Holy shit,” Brendon whispers. He puts his clean hand in Spencer’s hair, pulling him in for another kiss, and he’s shaking all over.

“Cold?” Spencer asks.

Brendon shakes his head. “No, I just…” He presses an almost chaste kiss to the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “That was amazing. I just wish Ryan was with us.”

“He will be,” Jon says with certainty. “He wants this as much as we do. He just won’t admit it yet.”

Spencer privately thinks that it isn’t a matter of time where Ryan is concerned. He’s more worried that not only will it never happen, but that his friendship with Ryan is falling apart beyond what Spencer can fix. He doesn’t say anything, though. Brendon doesn’t look miserable like he had last night and Spencer isn’t ready to be the one to make him look that way right now.

“Do you hear that?” Brendon asks, tilting his head to the side. Spencer strains to listen and hears a faint beeping through the wall.

“Shit!” Jon says, and jumps up, tangling the blankets worse in the process. “My alarm. I’ve got.” He checks the time on Spencer’s nightstand and starts fumbling around the mess of clothing on the floor for his underwear. “I’m going to be late.”

He pauses at the door and comes back, leaning over the bed to give Spencer a lingering kiss, and then Brendon. “You two be okay?”

Spencer nods and Brendon says, “Yes.” Jon spares them a smile and another quick kiss before darting out.

There is a long moment of silence in Jon’s absence and Brendon gives Spencer a weak smile. “We’re sort of a mess,” he says.

Spencer closes the distance between them again and Brendon is more insistent, more sure. He licks at Spencer’s bottom lip until Spencer gives in, opens up, and then Brendon licks past his teeth, curling his tongue against Spencer’s.

When he pulls back, Brendon asks, “What Jon said…while we were…that.” He stops and looks irritated with himself. “What Jon said, about me fucking you. You’d really let me?”

Spencer fights the sudden urge to laugh. “Both of us would, if that’s what you want. Or we can fuck you. I like being on the bottom better,” he says, and grins. “But if you want me to fuck you, I think I could make that sacrifice.”

“So we can…we can keep doing this,” Brendon asks. “You won’t…”

Spencer knows boys with abandonment issues. He draws Brendon into a tight hug, ignoring the drying mess on their stomachs. “Even if Ryan never comes around, me and Jon…we don’t plan on going anywhere. We won’t make you go anywhere. Unless you want to.”

Brendon kisses him and Spencer rolls Brendon beneath him, giving into the desire to make out as long as they can. Jon leaves first, and then Ryan moves around for a bit before leaving for class. Brendon has the morning off at Starbucks but has an early shift at the music shop.

Still, they manage to shower together, rubbing under the slick fall of water until Brendon’s clinging to Spencer’s shoulders. Brendon is beautiful when he comes. There’s something powerful and honest about it, and Spencer can understand how Ryan fell, even if he never intended to.

Spencer walks Brendon to work, and Brendon holds his hand the entire way. “I guess I’m glad I told my parents,” Brendon says, and Spencer’s so surprised he can’t even respond.

Brendon catches the look and explains, “I never really planned to, you know. I thought I could get away without mentioning the gay thing. But even though they don’t want anything to do with me, at least it’s over with, you know? I don’t have to ever wonder when I’m going to be caught and how horrible it will be. It’s done.”

“I think Ryan wanted me to tell them,” Brendon says. “I can’t help but think about if he had been home, instead of Jon. Or you. You said you’d do the same, but I don’t think you would have.”

Spencer squeezes Brendon’s fingers. “It’s not supposed to be like this,” Brendon says, voice harsh and angry. “I’m not supposed to want the three of you so badly. I should have been happy with Ryan, or I should have been happy with Jon. I shouldn’t have wanted you, too. Now that I have both of you, I shouldn’t still want Ryan.”

“Maybe it isn’t normal,” Spencer says. “But you’re not alone in it. Jon and I want the same thing.”

They get to the music store and Kyle waves at them both through the window. Spencer’s been around enough, both before Brendon was hired and since, that the other employees know him. “They think you’re my boyfriend,” Brendon explains. “I never bothered correcting them. That’s fucked up, huh?”

Spencer smiles. “It means I can do this,” he whispers, and presses a kiss to Brendon’s frown. “Everybody’s fucked up, Brendon. I love you anyway.”

Brendon’s face blossoms into a smile, brighter and happier than anything Spencer’s ever seen on him and Brendon says in a delighted rush, sincere and honest, “I love you, too, Spencer.”

Spencer’s never been one to hold the words hostage, but he knows they don’t come easy to some. Ryan’s maybe said them a handful of times in over a decade of friendship, and not at all in the past few years. Jon hasn’t said them at all. Spencer has always told himself that it’s enough to know that they feel it, even if he tells them and never hears the words back.

But Brendon says it so easily, and Spencer knows Brendon means it. Years of teaching himself not to expect it has made Spencer sort of defenceless in the face of this. Brendon looks at his face and swings their hands together.

“Me too,” Brendon says, and Spencer knows that Brendon knows exactly what he’s feeling. “I’ve gotten so sick of not hearing it back that sometimes I don’t say it, even when I should.”

They both know he means Ryan, and Spencer feels this swell of helplessness and anger and he needs to fix this. They’re not going to be right until Ryan is with them.

Brendon spends the morning at work completely distracted and unable to function. He’s been fighting off a cold for days now and today his mind is foggy and his nose is stuffy. For the first time in, well, ever, he actually wants his medication.

There’s a fleeting pang of regret for having flushed it, and then thinks how disappointed Spencer and Ryan and Jon would be if he were to start taking them again. Well, Spencer and Jon, anyway. Right now Ryan probably couldn’t care less what Brendon was doing right now. Unless it was something publicly humiliating.

He keeps telling himself he isn’t going to think about this whole mess, and pushes it to the back of his mind. Then it keeps creeping back up on him, whispering what-ifs and could-have-beens until Brendon’s stomach is aching and he feels dizzy and he just wants to be at home. Home, in Nevada, in his own bed. God, he doesn’t even have a bed that’s his own anymore.

There’s this tiredness that’s been building up over the past few months. It was different in Brazil. Not comfortable, certainly, but at least then he’d had the façade of purpose to fall back on. Since coming to Chicago that has fast disintegrated.

Sleeping in Ryan’s bed every night, he’d felt as though he was just counting down to the inevitable disaster. He’s well aware that he’s the one to blame in the end, which he hadn’t anticipated, but it doesn’t change the fact.

As nice as it was waking up this morning with Jon and Spencer, it doesn’t feel any more permanent. Brendon hates himself, because he loves Ryan, and he didn’t want to actually leave Ryan’s bed. He doesn’t want to leave Jon and Spencer’s beds, either, but it feels just as wrong. Like it doesn’t fit. Like he’s trying to force something.

When he first saw Jon and Ryan and Spencer together, Brendon had thought they fit. Before Brendon ever thought of falling in love with them, before he ever thought of letting Ryan fuck him, Brendon had just wanted to fit with them. He wanted to belong to them, because they looked close, the way that family and friends are always supposed to be, but never are.

Now all that closeness is shattered, and Brendon knows it’s his fault and he doesn’t know how to fix it. The worst part is that he isn’t sure, if he could go back, that he would change very much because he wants them all. He needs them all.

He thinks of the way that Ryan touches him. Ryan’s always been attracted to him physically. Now he thinks of the way that Ryan looks at Brendon when they’re in bed, or when Brendon sings Ryan’s words, or when Brendon laughs and Ryan gets a tiny, private little smile just from hearing the sound and of course Brendon knew.

It isn’t that he is greedy. He thinks that maybe he could have set aside his feelings for Jon and Spencer if it weren’t obvious that he wasn’t the only one thinking about it. If it hadn’t been obvious that RyanandBrendon and SpencerandJon were tearing apart the whole group dynamic.

Throughout his shift he comes up with a hundred different ways he could have handled the situation. How he could have broached the subject with Ryan or maybe Spencer, because Spencer’s the best for this sort of thing.

On his break, he texts I’m freaking out to Jon and Spencer and doesn’t really expect an answer. But when he steps outside after work, Jon’s waiting against the wall of the shop, hot chocolate in hand.

“Spence is picking up movies and Tom’s ordering the pizza,” Jon says and takes Brendon’s elbow to lead him to his car.

“Tom?” Brendon asks. He’s heard the name mentioned before, in passing.

“Tom is made of awesome. You’ll love him,” Jon promises.

The ride is calming. Jon doesn’t talk at all and Brendon just sips his hot chocolate and watches the passing scenery as night creeps on. The radio is set to an alternative station; Brendon’s education in modern pop has been pretty eclectic since he’s fallen in with Ryan and Jon and Spencer.

By now, Brendon can pick out most of the songs that play by artist, if not by name-Death Cab, My Chemical Romance, Green Day, Fall Out Boy. He likes them all, likes to sing along, and it helps settle him. Jon reaches for hand after a couple blocks and doesn’t let go the entire way.

Spencer’s already there when they arrive at Tom’s apartment, and he springs off the couch to wrap Brendon up in a tight hug. Brendon sort of wants to crumble in his arms, but there are strangers, and he doesn’t feel like making a scene. He hugs back for a long moment, whispering a thank you into Spencer’s neck, and Spencer gives him a soft, fleeting kiss when they pull back.

Jon loops an arm around Spencer’s waist and Spencer keeps his arm over Brendon’s shoulder, leading him into the living area.

“Brendon, this is Tom,” a pretty boy sprawled over the couch who gives Brendon a lazy smile and a flick of his wrist in greeting, “Joe,” who is more hair than anything else, all wild curls around his face and a big, dopey smile, no doubt thanks to the joint pinched between his fingers, “and Bill,” with miles of legs and an earnest, pleased smile, who peeks in from the kitchen to ask if they want beers.

Brendon knows he’s awkward around new people, and he’s more than a little nervous about all of this. He curves in on himself, hunching his shoulders, crossing his arms high over his chest. Spencer leads him to the empty couch and Brendon is ridiculously grateful when Spence and Jon frame him on either side.

Bill comes swaying in from the kitchen, long fingers holding six bottles of beer by the neck. Once he’s distributed them, Tom catches him around the waist and pulls him into his lap. Bill giggles at something Tom whispers against his neck and Brendon has to look away.

Brendon takes a long swig of his beer and Joe passes the joint across the coffee table with a “looks like you could use this more than me.” Brendon looks at the joint like it might bite him and Jon chuckles and takes it from Joe’s fingers.

It’s a relief when Jon passes it on to Spencer and it continues around the room without anyone pressuring Brendon to take a hit. Tom and Joe go back to their conversation about guitars, and it’s actually really interesting. Brendon’s happy just to listen and learn from what they’re saying, and he finds himself relaxing into the sofa. Maybe he’s getting a contact buzz, or maybe it’s that by the time the pizza arrives he’s already on his second beer.

From there it’s a quick downward spiral. Even during his “rebellion” Brendon didn’t ever drink, and he hasn’t had more than a sip here and there since meeting Jon and the others. At some point he’s aware of doing shots of gin with Bill, but it all sort of blurs together as the evening wears on. At any rate, it’s easier to relax and talk to Joe and Tom and Bill like normal people.

Pete and Patrick show up late in the evening with pie and more booze, and by then Brendon is pleasantly buzzed. Pete, he distantly realises, should be familiar to him, but mostly he’s just funny and a little strange and he and Brendon hit it off fairly quickly over shots of vodka and sake, talking about relationships and love.

“I like you better than Jesse,” Pete tells him, with The Princess Bride playing in the background and Joe and Tom fiddling around with their guitars in the corner.

Brendon blushes, because the subject of Jesse still makes him a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to take over from him,” Brendon says, and the words sound slurred to his own ears. He thinks he needs to slow down, but when Pete hands him another two fingers of sake, he chugs it in one go. “And you haven’t even heard me sing.”

“Doesn’t matter, man,” Pete tells him. “Patrick was never supposed to be my vocalist, you know? He played drums when I met him. Then I heard him sing, and I knew. I gave Ryan a hard time, a few years ago. Jesse, he’s got a good voice. He’s got a nice stage presence. But I think I’ll give Ross the benefit of the doubt here.”

Brendon isn’t precisely sure how it happened, but he thinks he’s talking to the frontman of Fall Out Boy, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that, especially drunk. “Ryan doesn’t want anything to do with me, right now,” he says.

“Dude, Patrick barely ever wants to have anything to do with me,” Pete says. “That doesn’t matter. It isn’t about wanting, it’s about needing.”

Brendon isn’t even sure what that means, but he’s saved from having to discuss it any further when Spencer gets him under one arm and Jon under the other and he’s being led down the hall, tossing over his shoulder promises to Pete not to let him down.

“Hey,” Brendon says dumbly, when he’s dumped on a futon in a messy room. He doesn’t say anything else-can’t think of anything else, because Spencer and Jon are undressing each other, passing a fresh roach back and forth between frenzied kisses and whispered words.

Brendon doesn’t know how much time has passed since he’s come to Tom’s. He feels pleasantly full, drunk and lightweight. He’s ready to float away except for Jon and Spencer, who fall to their knees on the floor on either side of Brendon, framing him.

“You wanna try it?” Jon asks, taking a puff from the joint. Brendon watches the way the tip flares as Jon inhales, the way the smoke curls past his lips when he exhales. Spencer reaches over Brendon to take the joint from Jon.

“I haven’t smoked anything in years,” Brendon whispers, because he’s actually considering this, and that must be a good indication of how fucked up he is. He’s never had any desire to get high. He only ever smoked in the first place as part of his stupid teenage rebellion, and look where that got him. He’s pretty sure he never even got high.

It’s funny, because if he’d just called and told his parents he’d smoked up he would have gotten in trouble, but not disowned. He’s been having gay sex for over a month. What’s a joint, to that?

“Here,” Spencer says. He puts his hand on Brendon’s cheek, turning his face and taking a long drag before passing it back to Jon. Then Spencer leans in and Brendon turns his face up automatically, expectantly, parts his lips for Spencer’s kiss and breathes in when Spencer blows the smoke into his mouth.

They pass Brendon back and forth, sharing mouthfuls of smoke with him through their kisses. He doesn’t need it, he wants to tell him. The alcohol has been enough to loosen his inhibitions, making him feel oddly connected to everything around him, and just good.

Still, when they touch him it feels magnified by the hundreds. Every press of Spencer’s lips to his chest, down his stomach, leaves Brendon arching off the mattress. Every kiss of Jon’s, every brush of his fingers across Brendon’s ribs, leaves him gasping for more.

Spencer fucks him and Brendon begs throughout it all, nails scoring Spencer’s back as they have Jon and Ryan’s before. He thinks, as tantalising as the idea is, to fuck Spencer, he prefers this, being spread open, dependent on Spencer and Jon for his pleasure.

He’s heard that when someone is drunk it’s more difficult to have sex, but this feels easy. Spencer inside him and Jon’s mouth on them both, and he thinks the only way it could be better is if Ryan was with them too. He has the presence of mind, even drunk, not to speak the words out loud.

Ryan manages to make it four days without seeing anyone other than Spencer in his apartment. He hears the sounds on his first night alone, imagines how Jon and Brendon fit together, even though he tries to keep the thoughts from entering his mind. He doesn’t want to think about it, but the images paint themselves, vivid and bright, behind his eyelids.

The second and third nights he is alone in the house, not even Spencer keeping him company. He’s tried to drive Spencer away before and it’s never worked, but this time…He says to himself that it’s better this way. He feels stronger with no one to rely on at all. Still, it feels like he’s being punished for some reason, and he doesn’t understand it.

Alone in bed, the silence stretches around Ryan like a living creature. It pulses in his ears, lurks behind closed eyelids, makes it difficult to sleep. He forces himself to think of anything else instead-lyrics he’s been working on, or the plot for a story that keeps escaping him.

He should get up since he’s not sleeping. Next week is finals week and he still hasn’t finished the project he has due for his art class. He’s pretty sure he’s going to bomb geometry, but at least he’ll do well in his English class. All his finals are on Monday and Tuesday, which means getting it over with sooner, but also means less time for studying.

At one thirty in the morning he receives a text from an unknown number. He’s tempted to ignore it, dismissing it as junk mail or something, but for whatever reason, he accepts it.

It reads, met yoru frontman, talked to some friends, u guys play tusday at 8 @pavilion, thrill me, pw.

A very large part of Ryan, probably the impulsive part, says to ignore it and tell Pete Wentz to go fuck himself. Ryan told Jon they weren’t ready for a show and now, on top of everything else, Jon’s introducing Brendon to Pete and making dates for shows?
The part of Ryan that’s been desperate for recognition for as long as he remembers prickles under the attention, though and demands that Ryan respond. He’s been waiting for this chance forever. All he says is, eight pm, wait til you hear him. It isn’t very clever, but he feels shaky and determined and so worn out.

The thing is, Ryan isn’t particularly cocky about his own lyrics, though he knows they’re good. It’s that he knows Brendon’s voice is golden, no matter what he sings. He knows all they need is for Pete to hear them, to see Brendon in action.

It hurts to think of Brendon now. Ryan feels his absence like a hole in his chest. The same way he feels Jon’s absence and Spencer’s.

He never meant to let Brendon so close. He doesn’t think it was a conscious choice. Brendon, being Brendon, did it himself. Sneaking under barriers and burrowing close until Ryan’s defences were meaningless.

Ryan really, really wants to blame Brendon for the mess in which they find themselves. But the more that he thinks about it, the more he realises it is unfair to do so. With any of his past girlfriends, any of the others who have cheated on him, Ryan can say decisively that he is in the right. He always made it clear how he felt about them and where he saw their relationships going.

He can’t say the same about Brendon.

Spencer comes home on Saturday night and sits with Ryan on the sofa. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence is a relief. Something Ryan hadn’t even realised he wanted. He lays his head on Spencer’s shoulder and Spencer wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“I want to go back to before,” Ryan says. He isn’t sure if he means before Brendon and Jon cheated, or before he and Brendon fucked, or before they even met him. Maybe before they met Jon. Except that isn’t true. He can’t imagine his life without Jon and Brendon in it, now.

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees. “But…don’t you think things were messed up then, too?”

Ryan doesn’t answer. He plays with the hem of Spencer’s shirt and in the background there is the sound of recorded laughter coming from the television. Once upon a time, Ryan used to get more worked up over being cheated on, but it’s almost become routine. He doesn’t need to ask why anymore. He’s never understood and he never will, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because it doesn’t make things any better.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he whispers.

Spencer startles at that, pulling back a little so he can look Ryan in the face. “What?” he asks.

“What?” Ryan repeats defensively. He’s allowed to apologise. Even if he doesn’t. Ever. “I said some shitty stuff, and it wasn’t fair, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Ryan Ross,” Spencer says, a sad smile on his lips, “is it possible that you’re growing up?”

“Blow me,” Ryan mutters and sinks back against Spencer again. Spencer starts playing with his hair and Ryan wants to purr. He closes his eyes and tries to remember when the last time was that he and Spencer and Jon all cuddled together on the couch. Back when there was a simmering potential in the air.

“Where are they?” Ryan asks, because it’s late and Brendon’s shift at the record store should be over and Jon just had a morning shift. It isn’t that he wants to see them. He still feels like an open sore, raw and exposed and so hurt and angry.

“They’re staying away for a few days,” Spencer says. “They’re at Tom’s.”

“You were with them the other night,” Ryan says. “I don’t understand, Spence.”

Spencer sighs. Ryan can feel the way his ribs expand on the inhale, hear the beat of Spencer’s heart under his ear. There’s probably no one in the world who knows him better, no one he’s ever felt so close to, and recently they’ve just drifted apart. He wants to be close again.

“I don’t want to lose them over this. Ryan…we should really talk about it. All four of us,” Spencer says.

Ryan stiffens and tries to sit up, but Spencer holds on tighter. “There isn’t anything to say,” Ryan bites out. He’s suddenly angry again, past all the resignation and the question of whether any fault falls on him for this whole thing.

“We trusted them. They abused that trust. And they knew…” Ryan trails off, because if he goes down that path, thinks about how much of himself he revealed to them, all his weaknesses, it will be even worse.

“They did something stupid,” Spencer says, “but it doesn’t mean they don’t love us.”

“How can-” Ryan struggles, trying to get away. He feels ridiculous having this discussion while being held like a child. Spencer finally lets him up. “How can you believe that, Spence? If they loved us, they wouldn’t have done it.”

Spencer looks tired; he rubs his forehead, pushing his hair back. “This is why you have to talk to them,” he says. “They aren’t-they didn’t do this to hurt us.”

“Jon’s wanted Brendon since they met,” Ryan says. “He couldn’t stand that I was with him.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “You know who else he’s wanted since he met them? You. And you know it. You knew that, and you knew how he felt about Brendon, so you fucked him because you knew it would get to Jon. You can’t fuck around with people’s emotions and not expect it to backfire.”

Ryan stands up quickly, pacing away from the sofa. “Jon doesn’t-he didn’t. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Jon always wanted you.”

“He wants us both. He wants all three of us,” Spencer says, and he sounds so sure of it, like it isn’t absurd to even suggest.

“Is that-even if that’s true, is that supposed to make me feel better about being cheated on? Is that supposed to make me be okay with the fact that two of the people I-That two people I trusted screwed me over?” Ryan demands.

“They didn’t-Ryan. Please, you need to talk to them. I know what they did was wrong, but it wasn’t for the wrong reasons, and we can fix this,” Spencer says.

“Fix it? Will we all be friends, Spence? Will we go out with them when they go on their dates? Will we pretend not to hear them fucking?”

Ryan walks back to Spencer, hovering over him. “Was that how it was at Tom’s? Did you watch them together all night? Did you sleep on the sofa so they could share a bed?”

Spencer swallows loud enough that Ryan can hear it. He watches Spencer’s throat move, wants to put his mouth there. Of course, as if everything else isn’t so fucked up, there has to be this, too. Always this longing to have Spencer in the one way he isn’t allowed.

“You wanna know how it was at Tom’s?” Spencer asks. His voice is pitched low and it makes the hairs at the back of Ryan’s neck prickle, makes his stomach turns in a pleasant way.

Spencer stands up and Ryan refuses to step back, even though they’re pressed together now, all down their fronts. Ryan makes sure his expression is bland and uninterested.

“I wasn’t on the sofa, and I wasn’t alone,” Spencer says.

Ryan feels his heart picking up. There’s something dangerous about Spencer’s tone of voice and the look on his face. Something predatory. Ryan wants to be indignant, but he’s afraid his voice comes out a little breathy when he asks, “You’re still sleeping with him? After what he’s done?”

Spencer wraps his hands around Ryan’s upper arms, holding him loosely. “Not just him,” Spencer says. “Brendon, too.” When Ryan jerks back in reflex, Spencer’s grip tightens. “All three of us together.”

“You…” Ryan’s jaw feels tight, his throat narrowing so he can’t force any sound through. He’s turned on and he’s furious and he wouldn’t know what to say even if he could talk right now. He wants to believe Spencer’s lying. Spencer’s been there every time Ryan’s been hurt, comforting him.

“I know you’ve been hurt,” Spencer whispers, and gives Ryan’s arms a little shake. “I know you-”

“Shut up,” Ryan manages to grit out, and kisses Spencer, hard. Their teeth clack together and Ryan tastes blood. “Shut up,” he hisses against Spencer’s mouth.

It’s more of a struggle than a kiss, really. Ryan tears his arms from Spencer’s grip and grabs at the fabric of Spencer’s shirt to haul him closer. Spencer’s hands are everywhere, in Ryan’s hair, under his shirt, clinging to his hips.

“We wanted you there, too,” Spencer mutters and Ryan kisses him harder to shut him up, shoving his tongue between Spencer’s lips. It’s Spencer, who Ryan’s done practically everything with, except this. Ryan never envisioned them like this, all anger and desperation. Spencer’s lips are full and he likes to bite.

Spencer twists them, pushing Ryan back down onto the sofa, knees on either side of Ryan’s legs. He settles in Ryan’s lap, never breaking the kiss. Kissing Spencer is supposed to be familiar and comfortable, but it feels utterly foreign and exciting and Ryan needs this.

Ryan arches up and Spencer’s kiss goes possessive. Spencer presses back with his full weight, grinding his hips against Ryan’s, slanting his mouth over Ryan’s, taking control. It’s equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. He could lose Spencer for good, but this is something Ryan’s wanted for longer than he cares to admit to himself.

Ryan is painfully, blindingly hard and he thinks he could come just like this, rocking together with Spencer. Every time Spencer settles back in his lap, Ryan can feel the press of Spencer’s cock through his jeans, against Ryan’s hip. They’ve talked about sex together and they’ve teased each other, but none of it has prepared Ryan for the reality of doing this with Spencer.

Then Spencer’s hands trace across Ryan’s stomach and start on the button of Ryan’s jeans, and Ryan figures that more skin might be better. He reaches to return the favour, fingers making quick work of Spencer’s zipper. Spencer’s wearing boxers that Ryan’s seen a hundred times. He’s borrowed them before. It’s so surreal, watching his hand slip beneath the waistband.

“Ryan.” Spencer takes Ryan’s face between his hands, looking him in the eye. Ryan’s hand freezes, pressing against the soft skin of Spencer’s lower belly. “I love you,” Spencer tells him.

“Shut up,” Ryan says, fierce and mean. “Shut up, I hate you. I love you, too.” He doesn’t entirely mean to say it, but he can’t not. It’s Spencer, and he has to. He kisses Spencer roughly again, enough that the cut on his lip reopens, and he fists Spencer’s cock. “Just shut up, Spence.”

Holding Spencer’s cock in his hand is maybe the strangest moment in Ryan’s life, thus far. He’s thought about it, fantasies fuelled by little glimpses caught changing for bed or after showers, but this…it’s probably more psychological than physical, he knows, but this feels different from any other guy he’s touched. Like he needs to be careful, and remember every vein, every throb of blood under skin.

“Fuck,” Spencer hisses and pushes his hips up. Ryan looks between them, watching Spencer’s cock slide through his fingers. “Fuck, Ryan, I do, I do,” Spencer says urgently. He wraps his fingers around Ryan’s cock and turns his face, pressing gentle kisses over Ryan’s cheek, down his jaw. “I do, Ryan. So do Brendon and Jon.”

“Shut up,” Ryan says, and he’s horrified that it sounds more like begging than a demand. His hips move of their own volition, thrusting into Spencer’s grip. He whimpers when Spencer bites his pulse point, hard enough that it will mark, like he’s trying to lay a claim.

Maybe it’s that they’ve been friends forever, but Spencer knows just how to touch him. He reads every sound that slips past Ryan’s lips, every expression that passes over his face. It’s all Ryan can do just to keep up, pace fast on Spencer’s dick because he needs Spencer to come, needs to be the reason for it. It’s not only unfair, but downright unbelievable that Jon and Brendon got to experience this first.

Spencer whispers, “Love you, Ryan, come on,” against Ryan’s throat and bites again, more gently. Ryan’s orgasm surprises him, makes him gasp, eyes flying open and falling closed again as he shakes through it. Spencer keeps kissing his neck and wraps his fingers around Ryan’s on his own cock. Another few strokes and Spencer groans, adding to the hot, wet mess between them.

Barely a minute passes before the regret begins to creep up Ryan’s spine, making him feel cold all over. There are reasons he’s never acted on his feelings towards Spencer, and they all occur to him at once. He arches his back, trying to push Spencer off his lap, but Spencer tightens his thighs around Ryan’s legs and kisses him.

“Stop freaking out,” Spencer says. “It doesn’t have to be bad. I know this has been all fucked up, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it work. It’s been fucked up because we’ve been fighting what we want. We thought we can’t have it but we can, Ryan. We all want each other. Everything bad that’s happened is because we’ve been trying to keep from being together, but we don’t have to.”

“This is insane,” Ryan says, pushing weakly at Spencer’s chest. “Even if-Even if we all wanted it, Spencer, things like that don’t work in the real world.”

“Ryan, we’re not working right now!” Spencer almost shouts.

“They cheated on us, Spencer. How could we ever…” Ryan trails off because this is so ridiculous he won’t even argue over it. He won’t give it that sort of weight.

“You can’t just have it your way, Ryan. You can’t want us all for yourself and not let it go both ways. Just because we want each other doesn’t mean we don’t want you, too. If you weren’t so fucking selfish, you’d understand that the four of us could be good.”

Spencer kisses the corner of Ryan’s mouth and hugs him, and Ryan wants to hug back, wants to go limp in Spencer’s arms, but he holds himself straight and tight. “It doesn’t have to be about what we do separately,” Spencer insists.

“If you just feel like fucking Jon or Brendon, I don’t care because I know that you all love me. It wouldn’t bother them to know about me and you.

Ryan lets his hand rest, giving up on pushing Spencer away. “I need to get up, Spencer. This is drying and I need to shower.”

Spencer sighs and leans back on his heels. “Please, we don’t want to do this without you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the one of us with sense!” Ryan snaps. “This is crazy, do you hear yourself? Who thinks that a…a fucking foursome is the answer to relationship problems?”

“It’s us, Ryan,” Spencer says. “We’ll wait for you as long as you need.” He stands up and Ryan pushes to his feet, ducking around Spencer towards the bathroom.

“You’ll be waiting a really long time, then,” Ryan says, stripping out of his clothing as he goes.

Spencer follows him into the bathroom, watching him run the water and test the temperature. “Ryan, I wanted you before I even knew what that meant. I can be patient.”

Ryan sags a little, shoulders slumping. “Spence,” he says, and doesn’t even know what he means by it. Spencer does, though. He always knows what Ryan means.

“Hey,” Spencer says, and wraps him in a hug. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. However you want me.”

“What about them?” Ryan asks, voice muffled in the skin of Spencer’s shoulder.

“If you made me choose, you know I’d choose you,” Spencer says. “I wish you wouldn’t ask me to, though.”

Ryan has never anticipated being in this situation. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to any of it, except that for all his protests, he just wants to put himself in Spencer’s hands and trust.

“You wonder what might have happened if I’d given Brendon a chance back in high school?” Ryan whispers, apropos of nothing, but it seems suddenly important.

“Rock stars totally have orgies all the time,” Spencer says, and to anyone else, it might not make sense as an answer, but it startles Ryan into laughing, clinging harder to Spencer’s waist.

Ryan’s been wondering about it a lot, since he learned, if he and Brendon would have still gotten together, if they ever would have met Jon. It makes a fucked up sort of sense to Ryan, given the way his entire life has gone, that now, when he finally sees the band coming together after years of struggling, now that Pete is ready to give him a chance…now his personal life is falling apart.

He’s never been about second chances. He watched the way his parents went back and forth, lying and cheating, their marriage in shambles, and when they stopped being able to hurt each other with words, using Ryan as a pawn in the game. He always promised he wouldn’t do the same, and he’s never been tempted to before.

Ryan isn’t exactly a stranger to being cheated on. He’s just never considered forgiving it. He wants Brendon back, and that makes him feel weak and confused. Yes, he wants Jon back, too, but not just as a friend. Spencer’s right; it just leads to them hurting each other.

With his track record, Ryan barely has the energy to try to keep one relationship going, let alone three. It’s crazy that he’s even letting himself think about it. “I don’t think I can do it,” Ryan says. Spencer just hugs him tighter, and doesn’t argue the point.

Part Nine