Letters Forever Unsent [S/A]
Title: Letters Forever Unsent
Author: Shazi nosebleed_seats
Rating: PG-15
Pairings: Failed Brendon/Spencer, mentions of Joncer
POV: First; Spencer's
Summary: Sometimes it's easier to write what you cannot bring yourself to say.
Disclaimer: This story is false, as it is fiction written by a fan.
Author's Notes: Cut text belongs to Ray Lamontagne.
Well.
I don't know where to begin. It's been three years almost and you've done a fantastic job of avoiding everyone in our lives. So what happened today? Did you really return here thinking that things would be different? That someone wouldn't recognize you and then immediately tell me?
They're all on my side and you know that and that's why you left. And don't act like the breakup was a mutual thing. You didn't see it coming. You didn't think I had the brains or the courage. You thought I was absolutely, positively wrapped around your finger. As if I was under your spell or something and could see no imperfections. Pfft. I knew what you were up to, but to be fair, I didn't want to accept it. I wanted to keep the image of you in my mind clear, pure and pristine.
Because my dream boyfriend? He would never deal drugs. So, since I firmly believed you were my dream, I denied it. Everything I heard was a rumor and the mysterious phone calls you got were about nothing mysterious at all. Just things in your life you weren't comfortable talking about and sharing with me, as you said. Fine. I respect privacy and all that. I took your word for it.
But I knew. Oh, I knew. When you came home grinning and laughing at absolutely nothing and hornier than a teenage boy, I knew. I hated those nights. I pretended they never happened for our sake. You'd call me names like "sweetie" and "baby" - things you never called me, because you thought they sounded too detached, and you were anything but with me. And then...and then, you'd practically rape me. Force me into fucking you, being fucked, giving you blowjobs. God, sometimes, you'd come in so bent that you'd make me participate in kinks I'd never even heard of. Real sick things I can still barely stomach. But I, completely sober, did them. If I didn't, you got angry, and lord knows what you're like angry normally, never mind incredibly intoxicated.
I would've tolerated it more if you were just selling drugs instead of taking them too. They never really did anything for you, and I hated having to pretend that everything was fine the day after. That part hurt the most, because you barely remembered doing anything to me.
But the night you went out with your "people" and you didn't come until mid-afternoon the next day...that was it. I was out of my mind that night. I cried and berated myself for letting you go out and shouted at you and you weren't there and you didn't call. I wondered if you'd gotten killed or if you were with somebody else or if anything had happened and I worried. You weren't answering my calls and nobody I knew had seen you around. I damn near worried my balls off about you and you came back the next day grinning.
I was waiting anxiously for you to return, or for the cops or someone to come to our door and just tell me where you were, or what you were doing, or what happened to you. I even called in sick to work because I felt too sick to do anything but worry. This wasn't like you. You wouldn't just go off without contacting me. And I was pacing the living room when I heard your keys going in the lock and relief swooped through me. You stumbled in, still off your rocker and gave me the widest smile when you saw me. You tottered towards me and practically fell on top of me, trying to give me a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
"Did'ja miss me?"
Did'ja miss me...did'ja miss me...? It played like a fucking broken record in my head and I have never wanted to kill someone more than in that moment. Several ways of how I would end your pathetic life flashed through my mind and at first, I didn't know which one to pick.
But then I decided to go and kill you slowly. As slowly as possible, until you rotted from the inside. So I left you. I left you and our home and what was left of what we had and I went to Ryan's and I told him everything.
You were so lucky none of our friends had a gun.
Then you had the nerve to hunt me down. You found me about four days after you started and unfortunately, Ryan and I weren't careful about who we opened the door to. I didn't think you'd come after me. I thought you'd be too ashamed to ever think of seeing me again. I didn't think about how you had practically no dignity to lose anyway.
Ryan opened the door and you were there, looking grim and unkempt. You asked for me and I was upstairs and I didn't know it was you. Ryan kept calm and he said I wasn't home, but I hadn't heard this part and came downstairs, asking Ryan who was at the door. And then I saw you when I came to the bottom of the stairs and I froze. I was frightened. You looked absolutely terrifying.
You growled as you looked between Ryan and I and Ryan quickly told me to run upstairs and lock the door behind me, but before I could move, you bounded into the house and knocked Ryan out of the way, slamming the front door behind you. Ryan was knocked against the wall and I was more worried about him than I was about what you would do to me.
I looked up at you in terror; you once had such nice, charming eyes, but then they just looked wild and dangerously feral. I would've moved to see how Ryan was - he was slumped on the floor - but I was afraid you would attack me the same way. You watched my cautious eyes dart back and forth between you and Ryan and you sighed, your expression softening.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Spencer," you coaxed, as if you were trying to get a cat down from a tree. "Come on. That...that was an accident."
I just kept staring at you. I had no idea what to do or say. You were not the same man I'd fallen in love with. Not one bit.
"I just...fuck," you continued, running your hand through your dark brown hair and glancing at Ryan's barley moving body. "I just needed to see you again, Spencer."
I said nothing. I was too petrified to speak. What the fuck would I say, anyway?
"You don't believe me, do you?" you laughed, but it was hollow. You weren't happy. You were fucking insane. "I need you, Spencer. The...the drugs? I don't need them. They don't do anything when I don't have you."
Was I expected to believe this? Was I expected to swoon and fall into your arms again? Should I have just forgiven and forgotten then, so we could start over again? Why? It was only going to end in failure again. What was the point?
"I love you, Spencer Smith. And I want you back," you said, edging closer to me. Please get the fuck away, was all I could think. I closed my eyes and hoped it was all some terrible nightmare. All of it. I hoped it was a nightmare and I never knew you and Shane never told me about this guy he knew who'd be interested in me. It was a lie, by the way. You didn't need me. You needed anybody who'd tolerate you.
But when I opened my eyes, Ryan was still against the wall and you were still in front of me, except then you were too close and your eyes were closed and your lips were pursed and you were moving forward -
And I slapped you. Really hard. With as much pent up frustration, anger, hurt and disappointment as I could put in one violent action. And it felt more than a little relieving to see you reel back in pain, clutching your cheek. You got too close to the fire and you got burned. And you still know nothing about my burns. The burns I endured for us. For you. And I hate you for that more than anything else I can hate you for.
You have no idea what you put me through and you really just don't care.
And then you were panting a little and staring at me in disbelief, with those wide, "innocent" eyes that used to pull me in. But right then, I couldn't have possibly felt farther away. "Spencer, -"
"I don't want you," I cut in, my voice distant and cold. Kind of like our relationship, eh? "Anymore. No more. I don't want you."
I didn't need that many words. I think you got the meaning.
Still, you tried to reel me back in. You started begging and pleading, and if there's anything I hate more than the way you abused me, it's the way you beg.
"You don't mean that," you laughed and I wanted to laugh back and tell you that I did, that I'd never meant anything more in my life. "You... I need you, Spencer."
"And I don't need you, Brendon," I replied simply, no longer terrified. I was just ashamed. You weren't dangerous. You were a coward. A sick, worthless coward.
"But...didn't I mean anything to you, Spencer? Didn't we mean anything to you?"
"Funny you should be the one saying that," I spat, allowing some of my anger to show through my cool demeanor. But then I realized my error. I was not about to engage you in an argument. If anything, I needed to get you the hell out of Ryan's home as soon as possible. I needed to get Ryan help. I glanced at Ryan, who seemed okay for the most part, but his eyes were still closed and his posture was still slouched.
"Brendon, it's over. Okay? I have to deal with it and you have to deal with it. You also have to leave now, okay?" I started, feeling like I was talking to a small child who misbehaved. "I don't want to see you anymore."
"Spencer!" You wailed and I have to be honest, it pained me. Despite everything, your pains still hurt me. This would be harder than I'd thought. "I...what? Spencer, I thought you loved me!"
Desperate. So, so fucking desperate. My eyes gleamed with hatred and disgust and loathing and yes, of course I loved you! Why do you think it hurt so much? I loved you!
"Don't you dare pull that on me, Brendon!" I shouted, absolutely enraged that you would play dirty. "Because I thought you loved me too, but... Brendon, just get out. If you don't leave now, I will... I will call the cops. Don't look at me like that - I will do it! And then everyone will know about you and you won't be able to go anywhere for shame!"
It was a bit low, I admit, but it was necessary.
"Spencer!" You cried again, and there were tears, actual tears running down your face. It fucking tore at my heart.
"I SAID GO!" I boomed and that was it.
You bit your lip and shook your head. You looked a mess and smelled even worse. What had happened to you?
You waited a moment before you nodded and accepted defeat. You could only push your limits so far. "Okay. I'm leaving. But...Spencer?"
I don't reply. I'm not saying anything else to you.
"I, uh... I still love you."
And then you left. And until today, I hadn't heard anything from or about you. And I've been fine.
I'm with someone named Jon who loves me like he's supposed to and he's my world. He's my rock and my best friend and I would be lost without him. He's been there for me since you left and I'm so glad I had him then as a treasured friend and now as a treasured lover.
Some days the dreamer in me wonders if we could've worked things out, but then my sensible side knows it wasn't going to be fixed and that it wouldn't have been worth trying. And now, when I think about how Jon isn't you, it's an advantage, not a setback.
So welcome back to town. I hope you won't meet the unwelcoming committee. I hope you won't get mugged too many times or get too many death threats, but don't say I didn't warn you if it happens. And don't even think of coming to find me. Ryan's got a bit of a bone to pick with you, and he's been itching for the opportunity.
You don't want to give it to him.
No love whatsoever,
Spencer
Author: Shazi nosebleed_seats
Rating: PG-15
Pairings: Failed Brendon/Spencer, mentions of Joncer
POV: First; Spencer's
Summary: Sometimes it's easier to write what you cannot bring yourself to say.
Disclaimer: This story is false, as it is fiction written by a fan.
Author's Notes: Cut text belongs to Ray Lamontagne.
Well.
I don't know where to begin. It's been three years almost and you've done a fantastic job of avoiding everyone in our lives. So what happened today? Did you really return here thinking that things would be different? That someone wouldn't recognize you and then immediately tell me?
They're all on my side and you know that and that's why you left. And don't act like the breakup was a mutual thing. You didn't see it coming. You didn't think I had the brains or the courage. You thought I was absolutely, positively wrapped around your finger. As if I was under your spell or something and could see no imperfections. Pfft. I knew what you were up to, but to be fair, I didn't want to accept it. I wanted to keep the image of you in my mind clear, pure and pristine.
Because my dream boyfriend? He would never deal drugs. So, since I firmly believed you were my dream, I denied it. Everything I heard was a rumor and the mysterious phone calls you got were about nothing mysterious at all. Just things in your life you weren't comfortable talking about and sharing with me, as you said. Fine. I respect privacy and all that. I took your word for it.
But I knew. Oh, I knew. When you came home grinning and laughing at absolutely nothing and hornier than a teenage boy, I knew. I hated those nights. I pretended they never happened for our sake. You'd call me names like "sweetie" and "baby" - things you never called me, because you thought they sounded too detached, and you were anything but with me. And then...and then, you'd practically rape me. Force me into fucking you, being fucked, giving you blowjobs. God, sometimes, you'd come in so bent that you'd make me participate in kinks I'd never even heard of. Real sick things I can still barely stomach. But I, completely sober, did them. If I didn't, you got angry, and lord knows what you're like angry normally, never mind incredibly intoxicated.
I would've tolerated it more if you were just selling drugs instead of taking them too. They never really did anything for you, and I hated having to pretend that everything was fine the day after. That part hurt the most, because you barely remembered doing anything to me.
But the night you went out with your "people" and you didn't come until mid-afternoon the next day...that was it. I was out of my mind that night. I cried and berated myself for letting you go out and shouted at you and you weren't there and you didn't call. I wondered if you'd gotten killed or if you were with somebody else or if anything had happened and I worried. You weren't answering my calls and nobody I knew had seen you around. I damn near worried my balls off about you and you came back the next day grinning.
I was waiting anxiously for you to return, or for the cops or someone to come to our door and just tell me where you were, or what you were doing, or what happened to you. I even called in sick to work because I felt too sick to do anything but worry. This wasn't like you. You wouldn't just go off without contacting me. And I was pacing the living room when I heard your keys going in the lock and relief swooped through me. You stumbled in, still off your rocker and gave me the widest smile when you saw me. You tottered towards me and practically fell on top of me, trying to give me a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
"Did'ja miss me?"
Did'ja miss me...did'ja miss me...? It played like a fucking broken record in my head and I have never wanted to kill someone more than in that moment. Several ways of how I would end your pathetic life flashed through my mind and at first, I didn't know which one to pick.
But then I decided to go and kill you slowly. As slowly as possible, until you rotted from the inside. So I left you. I left you and our home and what was left of what we had and I went to Ryan's and I told him everything.
You were so lucky none of our friends had a gun.
Then you had the nerve to hunt me down. You found me about four days after you started and unfortunately, Ryan and I weren't careful about who we opened the door to. I didn't think you'd come after me. I thought you'd be too ashamed to ever think of seeing me again. I didn't think about how you had practically no dignity to lose anyway.
Ryan opened the door and you were there, looking grim and unkempt. You asked for me and I was upstairs and I didn't know it was you. Ryan kept calm and he said I wasn't home, but I hadn't heard this part and came downstairs, asking Ryan who was at the door. And then I saw you when I came to the bottom of the stairs and I froze. I was frightened. You looked absolutely terrifying.
You growled as you looked between Ryan and I and Ryan quickly told me to run upstairs and lock the door behind me, but before I could move, you bounded into the house and knocked Ryan out of the way, slamming the front door behind you. Ryan was knocked against the wall and I was more worried about him than I was about what you would do to me.
I looked up at you in terror; you once had such nice, charming eyes, but then they just looked wild and dangerously feral. I would've moved to see how Ryan was - he was slumped on the floor - but I was afraid you would attack me the same way. You watched my cautious eyes dart back and forth between you and Ryan and you sighed, your expression softening.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Spencer," you coaxed, as if you were trying to get a cat down from a tree. "Come on. That...that was an accident."
I just kept staring at you. I had no idea what to do or say. You were not the same man I'd fallen in love with. Not one bit.
"I just...fuck," you continued, running your hand through your dark brown hair and glancing at Ryan's barley moving body. "I just needed to see you again, Spencer."
I said nothing. I was too petrified to speak. What the fuck would I say, anyway?
"You don't believe me, do you?" you laughed, but it was hollow. You weren't happy. You were fucking insane. "I need you, Spencer. The...the drugs? I don't need them. They don't do anything when I don't have you."
Was I expected to believe this? Was I expected to swoon and fall into your arms again? Should I have just forgiven and forgotten then, so we could start over again? Why? It was only going to end in failure again. What was the point?
"I love you, Spencer Smith. And I want you back," you said, edging closer to me. Please get the fuck away, was all I could think. I closed my eyes and hoped it was all some terrible nightmare. All of it. I hoped it was a nightmare and I never knew you and Shane never told me about this guy he knew who'd be interested in me. It was a lie, by the way. You didn't need me. You needed anybody who'd tolerate you.
But when I opened my eyes, Ryan was still against the wall and you were still in front of me, except then you were too close and your eyes were closed and your lips were pursed and you were moving forward -
And I slapped you. Really hard. With as much pent up frustration, anger, hurt and disappointment as I could put in one violent action. And it felt more than a little relieving to see you reel back in pain, clutching your cheek. You got too close to the fire and you got burned. And you still know nothing about my burns. The burns I endured for us. For you. And I hate you for that more than anything else I can hate you for.
You have no idea what you put me through and you really just don't care.
And then you were panting a little and staring at me in disbelief, with those wide, "innocent" eyes that used to pull me in. But right then, I couldn't have possibly felt farther away. "Spencer, -"
"I don't want you," I cut in, my voice distant and cold. Kind of like our relationship, eh? "Anymore. No more. I don't want you."
I didn't need that many words. I think you got the meaning.
Still, you tried to reel me back in. You started begging and pleading, and if there's anything I hate more than the way you abused me, it's the way you beg.
"You don't mean that," you laughed and I wanted to laugh back and tell you that I did, that I'd never meant anything more in my life. "You... I need you, Spencer."
"And I don't need you, Brendon," I replied simply, no longer terrified. I was just ashamed. You weren't dangerous. You were a coward. A sick, worthless coward.
"But...didn't I mean anything to you, Spencer? Didn't we mean anything to you?"
"Funny you should be the one saying that," I spat, allowing some of my anger to show through my cool demeanor. But then I realized my error. I was not about to engage you in an argument. If anything, I needed to get you the hell out of Ryan's home as soon as possible. I needed to get Ryan help. I glanced at Ryan, who seemed okay for the most part, but his eyes were still closed and his posture was still slouched.
"Brendon, it's over. Okay? I have to deal with it and you have to deal with it. You also have to leave now, okay?" I started, feeling like I was talking to a small child who misbehaved. "I don't want to see you anymore."
"Spencer!" You wailed and I have to be honest, it pained me. Despite everything, your pains still hurt me. This would be harder than I'd thought. "I...what? Spencer, I thought you loved me!"
Desperate. So, so fucking desperate. My eyes gleamed with hatred and disgust and loathing and yes, of course I loved you! Why do you think it hurt so much? I loved you!
"Don't you dare pull that on me, Brendon!" I shouted, absolutely enraged that you would play dirty. "Because I thought you loved me too, but... Brendon, just get out. If you don't leave now, I will... I will call the cops. Don't look at me like that - I will do it! And then everyone will know about you and you won't be able to go anywhere for shame!"
It was a bit low, I admit, but it was necessary.
"Spencer!" You cried again, and there were tears, actual tears running down your face. It fucking tore at my heart.
"I SAID GO!" I boomed and that was it.
You bit your lip and shook your head. You looked a mess and smelled even worse. What had happened to you?
You waited a moment before you nodded and accepted defeat. You could only push your limits so far. "Okay. I'm leaving. But...Spencer?"
I don't reply. I'm not saying anything else to you.
"I, uh... I still love you."
And then you left. And until today, I hadn't heard anything from or about you. And I've been fine.
I'm with someone named Jon who loves me like he's supposed to and he's my world. He's my rock and my best friend and I would be lost without him. He's been there for me since you left and I'm so glad I had him then as a treasured friend and now as a treasured lover.
Some days the dreamer in me wonders if we could've worked things out, but then my sensible side knows it wasn't going to be fixed and that it wouldn't have been worth trying. And now, when I think about how Jon isn't you, it's an advantage, not a setback.
So welcome back to town. I hope you won't meet the unwelcoming committee. I hope you won't get mugged too many times or get too many death threats, but don't say I didn't warn you if it happens. And don't even think of coming to find me. Ryan's got a bit of a bone to pick with you, and he's been itching for the opportunity.
You don't want to give it to him.
No love whatsoever,
Spencer