fic: mixtapes for exploding stars
mixtapes for exploding stars
ryan/spencer
~1500 words.
Ryan’s very first ever memory is of falling down the stairs and breaking his arm in two places. His second is of the kid that moved next to them a few days before shyly asking if he could sign his cast.
Ryan had looked at him warily. He didn’t tend to be nice to people. But the boy offered over half of his cookie, and Ryan was won over immediately.
-
In later years, Spencer always shared everything with Ryan. Everything. Sometimes (a lot of the time) Ryan would feel guilty, then get defensive, then feel guiltier for snapping at Spencer.
He understood.
-
Ryan’s fifteen. Spencer’s fourteen. They kiss one night, under the stars and fireworks of Independence Day.
It doesn’t come to anything.
All Ryan knows is that it was a Sunday. He remembers the way he could see all Spencer’s freckles, and how each was a creation of its own.
-
The second person Ryan ever kissed, and the one he ends up losing his virginity to, was a girl named Tarah.
She sweet talks him through it, and at the end Ryan thinks it’s one of the most amazing things ever to have happened to him.
It was a Sunday, but she wore too much make-up to see.
-
He gets this old beat-up acoustic at a car boot sale. It’s instant love, “the attraction across piles of mouldy books and boring shit nobody wanted,” as Spencer puts it one night.
He fumbles around on it a bit, but he doesn’t really get into it much (it’s harder than it looks) until Spencer makes him a mixtape. It has ‘this is gonna blow your MIND!’ written across the side in smudged Sharpie, and it does what it says on the tin. He’s more motivated than he ever was to learn to play.
He learns to caress instead of lash out, to stroke instead of hit. He learns that you can’t force music, anymore than you can force words.
-
Spencer has always been the one who climbed the social ladder, with a skill and grace that Ryan could only ever envy. He got invited to parties, bumped knuckles with people with piercings and neon hair, bumped knuckles with people in Abercrombie & Fitch shirts.
He never forgets Ryan. If he goes out, Ryan comes too. It is the unquestioned rule. People whisper at underlying tones of passion, but Spencer’s tall enough, and wide enough, to beat your ass if you talk shit about his best friend.
-
Tarah dumps him.
If it could be considered enough of a relationship to be cut off. Maybe there was a spark in the beginning, but anything since has long since faded into the wallpaper.
Spencer still makes him stay up all night to watch painfully upbeat chick flicks and eat a whole bowl of cookie dough between them.
Ryan doesn’t need comforting, thank you very much, he’s doing fine, but Spencer has a streak in him that doesn’t let him sit around and do nothing if someone he loves is hurting.
Ryan finds it slightly hot, and it freaks him out.
-
It’s been too long. They’ll never get out.
Ryan says as much to Spencer one day, in the middle of summer. They’re catching some of the endless sun, baking and burning.
Spencer rolls around to stare at him. Ryan twitches and flinches, but doesn’t look away. “You’re an asshole, and an idiot,” he says calmly. “We’re going somewhere, just watch.”
-
Two weeks later they meet Brendon.
If Ryan believed in a higher being, he’d thank him. Instead, he just pulls Spencer away after the audition and hugs him as hard as he can.
-
“The only reason you managed this is because you can work the internet, Mister I’m-Underage,-Here-Have-A-Picture-Of-My-Ass,” Spencer says, his eyebrow twitching.
Ryan knows, just knows, that he’s trying not to laugh. Instead he leans forward and bumps foreheads with Spencer, letting him know that this is okay.
They have their whole lives in front of them, and Ryan has never been happier.
-
Brent leaves, and Ryan barely even notices he’s gone. Jon arrives, and Ryan falls in love so hard he sometimes feels like the world tilted on its axis, spinning round to face the Johnny Walker side of life.
But Jon’s straight, and he has Cassie, and he could never do anything.
-
A year in, maybe, Jon comes up to him. He knows, Ryan has a moment of realisation and panic, before eerily calm rationality settles in. Of course he fucking knows, Ryan hasn’t exactly been subtle.
“Do you want it?” Jon asks in a low voice, pinning him against a wall. Ryan has to stop to think about it, and that’s what pivots his answer around.
“No,” he answers completely honestly.
Jon searches his face intently. Ryan feels like shrinking away, but he forces himself to stand tall and look Jon in the eye.
Jon breathes out and whispers, “Okay.”
-
People think he’s an attention whore who’ll fall in bed with anybody.
Actually, he’d like to tell them, he’s slept, in all his 24 years, with a total of 4 people.
Tarah, who got a song on the first album because he was feeling particularly spiteful about her.
Patrick Stump, because he first inspired Ryan to play guitar, and who was the little voice whispering in Pete’s ear the whole time. It’s more a thank you than anything.
Brent, who got angry and jumped on Ryan in the back of the van, punching him once before leaning in and kissing him furiously. That was an easy outlet for rage, nothing else.
A guy in a club, who does the whole blonde hair icy blue eyed thing that Spencer pulls off so well, and whispers, “You must be lost.” Ryan thinks yes, I am and leaves early the next morning.
-
They’re drunk, it’s a bad idea, and a part of his head is vehemently telling him so. He ignores it.
It’s smooth skin, bright smiles, laughter when he falls over his jeans, and an empty bed when he wakes up.
He can still smell it, lingering, and it hurts so fucking much.
-
There’s no awkwardness in the morning.
They don’t talk about it anyways.
-
One of the parties Panic are attending, in the Cobra suite, involves a game with rules that change as often as Gabe feels like it.
“Best kiss ever, Ross, fess up! I want romantic, c’mon,” Gabe shouts, remarkably sober for the amount of shots he’s been doing.
Ryan thinks about it, and after a moment’s deliberation, says “Underneath the exploding stars.” He knows no-one understands it. He believes it until he feels how tense Spencer is against his arm.
-
They get back to the hotel and as soon as the door closes Spencer’s attacking Ryan with lips and teeth and scratches on bare skin. It’s more painful, more violent than the first time, and Ryan can’t bring himself to care.
This time, it’s Ryan who leaves first.
-
They crossed a line, and there’s no going back now, but they’re ignoring that.
The elephant in the room feels bigger and bigger every time Spencer looks at him, gaze dark, eyes hooded.
Ryan has to swallow down the rising panic and turn away.
-
“Don’t do this,” Spencer mutters.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ryan says, spits it in Spencer’s face defiantly.
Spencer’s grip tightens on his wrists, and he’s reminded just how hard and cold the wall behind him is. Ryan’s reminded painfully of Jon. “Don’t make me do this.”
“I don’t know what you want.” Ryan struggles half-heartedly.
“Exploding stars, huh.” Spencer looks thoughtful, a hard feat to manage while pinning someone to a wall.
Ryan goes completely limp, the fight gone out of him.
Spencer leans in close, eyes searching. “Did you mean it?”
Ryan turns his head away, whispers, “Yes,” into his shoulder.
-
It’s not even an engagement ring. It’s a fucking promise ring, and it’s made of pink plastic and tacky and Ryan loves it.
“Consider this my pledge. My oath to adore you for a long time,” Spencer said solemnly, eyes twinkling.
Ryan coughs to wipe away a sneaky tear, but he doubts Spencer’s fooled.
-
Ryan’s thirty one. Spencer’s thirty. They kiss under the stars and fireworks on Independence Day, and Ryan had never felt so happy before.
Spencer smiles and takes Ryan’s hand, and Ryan can finally say he knows the exact number of freckles across Spencer’s nose.
He smiles back and settles more comfortably against Spencer’s side, content.
ryan/spencer
~1500 words.
Ryan’s very first ever memory is of falling down the stairs and breaking his arm in two places. His second is of the kid that moved next to them a few days before shyly asking if he could sign his cast.
Ryan had looked at him warily. He didn’t tend to be nice to people. But the boy offered over half of his cookie, and Ryan was won over immediately.
-
In later years, Spencer always shared everything with Ryan. Everything. Sometimes (a lot of the time) Ryan would feel guilty, then get defensive, then feel guiltier for snapping at Spencer.
He understood.
-
Ryan’s fifteen. Spencer’s fourteen. They kiss one night, under the stars and fireworks of Independence Day.
It doesn’t come to anything.
All Ryan knows is that it was a Sunday. He remembers the way he could see all Spencer’s freckles, and how each was a creation of its own.
-
The second person Ryan ever kissed, and the one he ends up losing his virginity to, was a girl named Tarah.
She sweet talks him through it, and at the end Ryan thinks it’s one of the most amazing things ever to have happened to him.
It was a Sunday, but she wore too much make-up to see.
-
He gets this old beat-up acoustic at a car boot sale. It’s instant love, “the attraction across piles of mouldy books and boring shit nobody wanted,” as Spencer puts it one night.
He fumbles around on it a bit, but he doesn’t really get into it much (it’s harder than it looks) until Spencer makes him a mixtape. It has ‘this is gonna blow your MIND!’ written across the side in smudged Sharpie, and it does what it says on the tin. He’s more motivated than he ever was to learn to play.
He learns to caress instead of lash out, to stroke instead of hit. He learns that you can’t force music, anymore than you can force words.
-
Spencer has always been the one who climbed the social ladder, with a skill and grace that Ryan could only ever envy. He got invited to parties, bumped knuckles with people with piercings and neon hair, bumped knuckles with people in Abercrombie & Fitch shirts.
He never forgets Ryan. If he goes out, Ryan comes too. It is the unquestioned rule. People whisper at underlying tones of passion, but Spencer’s tall enough, and wide enough, to beat your ass if you talk shit about his best friend.
-
Tarah dumps him.
If it could be considered enough of a relationship to be cut off. Maybe there was a spark in the beginning, but anything since has long since faded into the wallpaper.
Spencer still makes him stay up all night to watch painfully upbeat chick flicks and eat a whole bowl of cookie dough between them.
Ryan doesn’t need comforting, thank you very much, he’s doing fine, but Spencer has a streak in him that doesn’t let him sit around and do nothing if someone he loves is hurting.
Ryan finds it slightly hot, and it freaks him out.
-
It’s been too long. They’ll never get out.
Ryan says as much to Spencer one day, in the middle of summer. They’re catching some of the endless sun, baking and burning.
Spencer rolls around to stare at him. Ryan twitches and flinches, but doesn’t look away. “You’re an asshole, and an idiot,” he says calmly. “We’re going somewhere, just watch.”
-
Two weeks later they meet Brendon.
If Ryan believed in a higher being, he’d thank him. Instead, he just pulls Spencer away after the audition and hugs him as hard as he can.
-
“The only reason you managed this is because you can work the internet, Mister I’m-Underage,-Here-Have-A-Picture-Of-My-Ass,” Spencer says, his eyebrow twitching.
Ryan knows, just knows, that he’s trying not to laugh. Instead he leans forward and bumps foreheads with Spencer, letting him know that this is okay.
They have their whole lives in front of them, and Ryan has never been happier.
-
Brent leaves, and Ryan barely even notices he’s gone. Jon arrives, and Ryan falls in love so hard he sometimes feels like the world tilted on its axis, spinning round to face the Johnny Walker side of life.
But Jon’s straight, and he has Cassie, and he could never do anything.
-
A year in, maybe, Jon comes up to him. He knows, Ryan has a moment of realisation and panic, before eerily calm rationality settles in. Of course he fucking knows, Ryan hasn’t exactly been subtle.
“Do you want it?” Jon asks in a low voice, pinning him against a wall. Ryan has to stop to think about it, and that’s what pivots his answer around.
“No,” he answers completely honestly.
Jon searches his face intently. Ryan feels like shrinking away, but he forces himself to stand tall and look Jon in the eye.
Jon breathes out and whispers, “Okay.”
-
People think he’s an attention whore who’ll fall in bed with anybody.
Actually, he’d like to tell them, he’s slept, in all his 24 years, with a total of 4 people.
Tarah, who got a song on the first album because he was feeling particularly spiteful about her.
Patrick Stump, because he first inspired Ryan to play guitar, and who was the little voice whispering in Pete’s ear the whole time. It’s more a thank you than anything.
Brent, who got angry and jumped on Ryan in the back of the van, punching him once before leaning in and kissing him furiously. That was an easy outlet for rage, nothing else.
A guy in a club, who does the whole blonde hair icy blue eyed thing that Spencer pulls off so well, and whispers, “You must be lost.” Ryan thinks yes, I am and leaves early the next morning.
-
They’re drunk, it’s a bad idea, and a part of his head is vehemently telling him so. He ignores it.
It’s smooth skin, bright smiles, laughter when he falls over his jeans, and an empty bed when he wakes up.
He can still smell it, lingering, and it hurts so fucking much.
-
There’s no awkwardness in the morning.
They don’t talk about it anyways.
-
One of the parties Panic are attending, in the Cobra suite, involves a game with rules that change as often as Gabe feels like it.
“Best kiss ever, Ross, fess up! I want romantic, c’mon,” Gabe shouts, remarkably sober for the amount of shots he’s been doing.
Ryan thinks about it, and after a moment’s deliberation, says “Underneath the exploding stars.” He knows no-one understands it. He believes it until he feels how tense Spencer is against his arm.
-
They get back to the hotel and as soon as the door closes Spencer’s attacking Ryan with lips and teeth and scratches on bare skin. It’s more painful, more violent than the first time, and Ryan can’t bring himself to care.
This time, it’s Ryan who leaves first.
-
They crossed a line, and there’s no going back now, but they’re ignoring that.
The elephant in the room feels bigger and bigger every time Spencer looks at him, gaze dark, eyes hooded.
Ryan has to swallow down the rising panic and turn away.
-
“Don’t do this,” Spencer mutters.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ryan says, spits it in Spencer’s face defiantly.
Spencer’s grip tightens on his wrists, and he’s reminded just how hard and cold the wall behind him is. Ryan’s reminded painfully of Jon. “Don’t make me do this.”
“I don’t know what you want.” Ryan struggles half-heartedly.
“Exploding stars, huh.” Spencer looks thoughtful, a hard feat to manage while pinning someone to a wall.
Ryan goes completely limp, the fight gone out of him.
Spencer leans in close, eyes searching. “Did you mean it?”
Ryan turns his head away, whispers, “Yes,” into his shoulder.
-
It’s not even an engagement ring. It’s a fucking promise ring, and it’s made of pink plastic and tacky and Ryan loves it.
“Consider this my pledge. My oath to adore you for a long time,” Spencer said solemnly, eyes twinkling.
Ryan coughs to wipe away a sneaky tear, but he doubts Spencer’s fooled.
-
Ryan’s thirty one. Spencer’s thirty. They kiss under the stars and fireworks on Independence Day, and Ryan had never felt so happy before.
Spencer smiles and takes Ryan’s hand, and Ryan can finally say he knows the exact number of freckles across Spencer’s nose.
He smiles back and settles more comfortably against Spencer’s side, content.