Only Each Other's Because The Day Is Long-Part Two

[signsonaves]

Part One
Five Years Later

“Ross!” Jon Walker called, leaning on the doorframe of Ryan’s tiny office.

“Jon Walker. Please tell me you’ve brought me coffee,” Ryan said, setting his pen down with a decisive thump.

“Uh, no,” Jon said. He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. Ryan scowled. “I’ll bring you coffee if you agree to skip the Neko Case concert for Empires?”

“You’re already going,” Ryan pointed out. “Why do you need me, too?”

“Tom wants to meet you,” Jon said easily. “And I think it’d be nice to support the band on the blog. Give them a little more exposure, you know?”

Ryan hated to say no to Jon when he looked like that- grinning and stupidly hopeful- but Neko Case. It wasn’t that Ryan loved her just that much, though he did. It was that indie kids loved her. “Neko Case, Jon. Neko Case is big.”

“Empires is going to be big. Really big. Think of it as a chance to get in first. Then when they get famous and signed to a major label, you can say you knew them when and how much better they were before they sold out.”

Ryan wavered.

“And I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but Alex Greenwald is maybe planning on making an appearance with his new band,” Jon said, leaning in like he was imparting a state secret. Which, yeah, Alex Greenwald was pretty much a big deal. Not as big a deal as Neko Case, but Ryan still loved his Phantom Planet album, even if he denied association to anything The O.C. (Quite possibly Ryan and Jon also spent too much time watching Jon’s The O.C. DVDs and arguing about Marissa, but Ryan would never admit it.)

Ryan spluttered. “What does that have to do with anything?”

When Jon stopped laughing, he said, “I can probably get you an interview with all three of the bands playing, including Alex’s.”

Now that was more promising. Pretty.Odd. would only be one of many music blogs covering the Neko Case show and maybe even one of a few covering the Empires show. But an interview? That could make the concert worth it.

“Well, I guess Alex was just on Mark Ronson, so this is a good time to jump on that train,” Ryan said and then glared at a laughing Jon. “Shut up. I didn’t mean it like that. Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Ryan,” Jon said, holding his hands out.

“And don’t patronize me or I’ll change my mind about covering Empires. Who else are they playing with, anyway?”

“I guess some other band out of Chicago. Some electro-rock fusion band- it’s like, a guitarist, a drummer, and a kid with a laptop.”

“They sound pretty generic,” Ryan said, scribbling down a reminder to look into the band before the show. At least they had a drummer. A drummer, Ryan thought, was the most important band member to have live. Synthetic beats just didn’t resonate the same way, didn’t echo through his bones and make him feel like he was living in the music.

“Yeah. Tom says they’re good but falling apart already. Anyhow, I’ve got to go- photo shoot with Vampire Weekend,” Jon said, already halfway into the hallway. “I’ll e-mail you the details later.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ryan said. He turned his attention back to the album he was supposed to review. It was derivative, poppy crap. Everyone else at Pitchfork probably hated it. Ryan kind of loved it, but he knew better than to say so. People expected albums like this to get a certain sort of review at Pitchfork, after all, and he wasn’t going to disappoint.

He geared the album up for another listen and prepared to crush some dreams. Well, okay, maybe a bad review wouldn’t be that crushing, but Ryan liked to believe he had some pull in the music world.

Halfway through the review, his Mac Book beeped for an incoming message. Jon had written, ‘concert tonite. webster hall doors at 830. then after party? don’t be too late they’ll probably start at 9. i owe you coffee.’

Ryan hit reply and typed, ‘And don’t think I’ll forget it. See you there.’

It was almost five. He could probably get away with going home now. It wasn’t like anyone else really did any work anyway.

As he was shutting down his laptop he noticed the note reminding him to check out Goodbye Gatling. Oh well. Getting to know the band was kind of the point of an interview, anyway, and they weren’t even the headliners. He could probably just ask a few basic questions before concentrating on Alex. And Empires.

*

Ryan sighed, leaning against the venue wall. He felt too old for this place. There were definitely some high school kids sitting on the floor- on the floor, what the fuck, didn’t they know how many people had bled and sweated and probably thrown up on that thing?

Idly, he flipped his phone open and closed. Jon still hadn’t texted him back. It wasn’t like Ryan was jealous or something. He knew Tom was Jon’s best friend, and they didn’t get much of a chance to hang out anymore. Jon had some crazy stories from when he toured with TAI, which he told with an air of nostalgia whenever he got drunk- so pretty much every weekend.

“It’s not that I regret finishing school,” Jon had said when Ryan asked him why he didn’t go back to it. “And it’s not that I don’t like what I’m doing now, and I need to make a living somehow. It’s just…”

Ryan tried to look encouraging and empathetic.

“I guess I’m almost jealous, you know? Like, I wanted that. I wanted to make a living at that. Maybe 504 Plan was never meant to be, but I never found another band the way Tom did.”

Ryan knew exactly what Jon meant. His chest still hurt when he thought about Panic.

His phone buzzed. hey backstage with tom be out for pics of sets dont worry. u enjoying yourself yet?

no, Ryan texted back. there’s a fourteen year old checking me out. and she’s sitting on the floor.

dont u have to be 18 to get in? shes legal knock urself out.

fuck you, Ryan replied. 8:50, so Jon still had a few minutes.

He scanned the crowd lazily. There was never really anyone he was interested in at shows, at least not interested in as more than a one-night deal. And he could find one of those easily enough at the after party. There was one guy standing on the other side of the room, though, talking to someone up on stage. He had a nice back. Then he turned around. He’s got a nice face, Ryan thought, and then, holy shit, Spencer?

Ryan gasped and started coughing. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing.

“Hey, you okay?” The fourteen-year old approached him, setting a hand on his arm.

“Fine,” Ryan snapped and pushed her away. The fuck was Spencer doing here? He should be in college in Chicago and far, far away from Ryan. He pressed a hand to his chest. It was too warm in here. He whirled and headed for the nearest door.

“Hey,” the bouncer said. “You can’t go back there. It’s private.”

“I’m with the band,” Ryan said, trying to push past. The bouncer grabbed his arm. “Ryan Ross, I’m on the list.”

“Fine,” the bouncer said, letting go of Ryan’s arm just as he made another attempt to pull away. He tripped forward and would have had a rather painful collision with the floor had he not had a somewhat painful collision with someone else first.

“Hey, sorry.”

Ryan looked up. He had nearly run over Alex Greenwald. It was official- his night could not possibly get any worse.

“You okay? You look kind of rough.”

“Yeah, fine. Just, uh, looking for a friend,” Ryan said, taking a step back. He was pretty sure the bouncer was silently laughing at him.

“A friend, huh?” Alex said, laughing a little and crossing his arms.

“Not like that!” Ryan protested. “I’m here to cover the concert? And I’m looking for my photographer. He’s friends with some of the guys in Empires.”

“Ryan Ross?” Alex exclaimed. “The Ryan Ross?”

“Um, yeah,” he said. Oh god, Alex Greenwald knew his name.

“I’m Alex,” Alex said, holding out his hand. “And Jon said he’d be out in a minute.”

“I know,” Ryan said and immediately winced. “Well, I mean, I know because I’m covering the concert, obviously, not because I’m some kind of creep who like, sits at home and stalks you.”

“Obviously. Are you going to shake my hand?” Alex grinned.

“Oh. Sorry,” Ryan said and held out his hand tentatively.

Alex grabbed it and pulled him back onto the floor, saying, “Now come on. You don’t want to miss Goodbye Gatling. They’re fucking awesome.”

“I don’t really know much about them,” Ryan admitted. “Normally I look stuff up before the show, but this was kind of late notice. I heard some of their stuff coming over, but that’s about it.”

“Lucky you have an in then, isn’t it?” Alex grinned at him.

“Looks like it,” Ryan said, smiling back.

“So their singer, Rob, is the also the guy that handles the computer on stage. Their guitarist is Carrie, she’s a cool girl. Spencer’s on drums and he’s the shit.”

Well. That would explain what Spencer was doing there.

“Now come on, give me a hand here,” Alex said, pushing to get them to a good position. Ryan drew on years of concert experience and threw out his elbow, making sure he had a firm hold on Alex. He wasn’t sure why Alex Greenwald wanted to hang out with him. It would be one thing if it felt like Alex was angling for a better review, but Ryan wanted to believe the best and so far, Alex had just come across as friendly.

“Oops, sorry, excuse me, just trying to get back to my friends,” Ryan said, dragging Alex under someone’s armpit and through a circle of already-drunk hipsters. They barely squeezed past a couple making out, oblivious to the world, and they were perfectly positioned- close enough to the stage to see, not so close that they seemed over-eager.

“Why are you out here? Couldn’t you watch side-stage or from the balcony?” Ryan asked.

“Why are you?” Alex countered. “You’re on the list.”

“You dragged me out here,” Ryan felt the need to point out. “But there’s something different about watching a show from the audience, you know? And I want to give bands a fair review. It’s not fair if I’m watching side-stage. They’re not really playing to those people.”

“If you watched our set side-stage, I’d play to you,” Alex said, winking and elbowing Ryan gently. “No, I know what you mean. That’s why I’m out here, isn’t it? Concerts are always more fun when you feel like the band’s there for you.”

The stage lights came on. Spencer was in the back, flipping one of his sticks. He had a standard kit- not the same one he’d been playing on when the band fell apart- and also, it appeared, some bongos.

He looked good. The lights above shone bright on his hair and cast shadows which pooled in the contours of his face. He had a beard, kind of the mountain man look going on which normally Ryan found entirely unattractive but Spencer was making it work. His arms were a little more muscular than Ryan remembered or maybe it was just that Ryan wasn’t used to watching Spencer play from this angle. Or listening quite like this, really. Spencer had gotten a lot better.

“Thank you, New York City!” The lead singer of the band was bouncing up and down and waving his mike in the air. Ryan realized that he’d missed the entire set. Well, shit.

“So, what did you think?” Alex said, smirking. “You looked pretty absorbed.”

“They were good,” Ryan replied cautiously. Well, he was pretty sure he would have noticed if they were horrendous. There was no blood dripping from his ears so he was probably safe to say that they were at least decent.

“I sense a but in there somewhere.”

“No. Just, sometimes I think it’s a bit weird, you know, how a show now can just be some kids dancing on stage with a laptop. At least they had some instruments, though,” Ryan said, trying to laugh it off.

“You work for Pitchfork,” Alex pointed out. “Don’t you guys jizz in your pants over indie electronica darlings?”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone that works for Pitchfork has the same taste,” Ryan said, crossing his arms.

“You just write like you do.”

Ouch. Well, he supposed that was true. He certainly wasn’t going to be writing a rave review of My Chem anytime soon, even if they maybe still made him dance. Just a little, though, and mostly in his head. He’d gotten better at impulse control over the years.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Alex said. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s a good job, and every magazine has a house style.”

“No, it’s true,” Ryan said. “I don’t always write what I really think about albums.”

“Isn’t that dishonest? False advertising, kind of?”

“Not really. I mean, we cater to our readers, you know? I can love an album, but if I know that the majority of our readers would hate it, a glowing review wouldn’t really be helpful to them. And I’m honest on the blog.” Well, kind of. He kept his readers in mind there, too.

“I guess,” Alex said. “Now come on, it’ll be a bit before Empires. If you want, we can hang out backstage while we wait. I can give you the tour.”

“You know that’s not really going to get you a better review, right?” Ryan said, trying to stall. He didn’t want to go backstage, not even with Alex. Going backstage meant seeing Spencer. He wanted to try to avoid that eventuality as long as possible.

“That’s not what I’m doing here, Ross,” Alex said softly, moving in closer. “You’re a friend of a lot of my friends, you seem like a cool guy, and I’d like to get to know you better. And aside from reviewing the show, you’re interviewing us too. Those always go easier when everyone’s on the same page. I want you to be honest when you write up the show- well, honest to your readers’ tastes, anyway.”

Ryan felt suddenly tired. Aside from seeing Spencer again, it looked like he’d insulted Alex Greenwald. “No. It’s- I’m sorry. I didn’t really think that. It’s just that I’ve got to be careful, or people will think I’m not impartial.”

“That sucks,” Alex said. Ryan nodded. “How about at the next show, then? The review will be up by then. And in the meantime, we should go out sometime. Do dinner or a movie, maybe.”

“I’d like that,” Ryan said. There was no reason for him to turn down Alex Greenwald. Suddenly seeing Spencer again didn’t change anything. So what if Spencer had gotten stupidly hot, and Ryan’s heart sped up just a little at the sight of him? It wasn’t like Ryan was still in love with him or anything, and he was capable of appreciating Spencer’s hotness purely on an aesthetic level.

“Cool,” Alex said, grinning. “Now come on.”

There was really no way for Ryan to gracefully decline. He nodded reluctantly and followed Alex towards the stage door, where Spencer was.

Spencer, who probably still hated him.

“Ryan!” Jon called to him. Ryan turned to see Jon hanging out in the back corner of the room.

“Hey, sorry, that’s my photographer. I should probably go see what he wants,” he said. He tried not to sound too relieved.

“Yeah, I get it. Work before play and all that. But I fully expect to see you hanging out with us at the after party, got it?” Alex moved away before Ryan could respond. He had been planning on going, but he was going to have to format the interview and write up a review of the concert and really, the sooner that was up the better. And he had never actually finished listening to the albums he was supposed to have reviews in for by next Tuesday. He couldn’t justify going out with all that hanging over his head.

Mind made up, Ryan headed over towards Jon.

“So, what did you think?” Jon asked when Ryan reached him. “I got some great shots, especially of their drummer.”

“They were good,” Ryan said. He wondered if Jon had managed to capture the way that Spencer’s hands curved around his sticks, or the way the stage lights had glistened off of the sweat dripping down his neck.

“Just good?” Jon raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Ross, usually I can’t get you to shut up with your opinions about bands. Were you, perhaps, a little bit distracted?”

Ryan squirmed uncomfortably.

“I saw you standing next to Alex,” Jon said. “He seemed pretty into you.”

“He’s nice.”

“Very nice,” Jon agreed. “Nice enough to distract you from the show?”

“I wasn’t distracted because of Alex,” he protested. It would be easier if Ryan had been.

“Right,” Jon said. Ryan glared. Jon started to whistle.

“So what did you think of the show?” Ryan asked.

“They were good,” Jon said. “Not really my thing. You know how I feel about electronica. But they were definitely good for the genre, strong beats, dance-y.”

“Did you look them up before the show?” Hopefully Ryan could fill in the review with a combination of what Jon thought of the show, generic platitudes, and the interview.

“Yeah. They’re better recorded, I think. That one kid can’t really dance, and I thought the sound was more cohesive on the recording,” Jon said helpfully, but he smirked at Ryan like he knew exactly what Ryan was doing.

“That’s what I thought too.”

“Right. Anyway, try to pay attention to Empires. I really think you’ll like them.”

“Of course,” Ryan replied, affronted. “And I do like them. You’ve made me listen to the CD enough times to know.”

“They’re awesome live too, though,” Jon said. He was being a little ridiculously earnest, Ryan thought. Jon probably didn’t even realize, but he was gesturing excitedly and had the stupidest smile on his face.

“I’m sure they are,” Ryan said when it became clear that Jon was waiting for a response.

“No, really,” Jon said. “Like, you might not expect it because they’re a new band, right? But Tom’s been playing and touring for years and so has Matt. Sean too.”

“I know, Jon. You’ve only showed me about a million hours of YouTube concert footage.” Ryan rubbed his temples to try to stave off his developing headache.

“Sorry,” Jon said. “I didn’t think it was that horrible. You never said anything.”

“It’s not that,” Ryan said. “I do like Empires and I like watching their concerts. I’m just tired tonight.”

“Is everything okay?” Jon asked, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Ryan tried for a smile.

“Are you sure?” Jon moved so he was standing in front of Ryan, looking him in the face. “If you want to just go home, I can handle the interview and the review.”

“I’ll be okay once Empires starts to play,” Ryan said. It was probably true.

“Alright,” Jon said. “Want me to get you a water?”

“Sure,” Ryan said gratefully.

“Be right back,” Jon said, squeezing his shoulder once before heading back to the bar.

It took Jon awhile to get Ryan’s water. He watched him, arms crossed over his chest. The set-up on stage looked mostly done- Empires would probably be on soon. Hopefully Jon wouldn’t miss the beginning of their set.

“Hey,” Jon said, tapping Ryan’s forehead with a cold bottle of water.

“Thanks,” Ryan said. He unscrewed the top and took a long drink.

“They’re coming out,” Jon said. “You okay to stand in the crowd?”

“Let’s go.” Ryan nodded and grasped Jon’s sleeve to pull him into the crowd. Jon was excited about this show. Ryan wasn’t going to ruin it for him.

*

Ryan was lost. Well, he wasn’t actually sure if he was lost yet. There was a chance that the next turn in the hallway would lead to the bands’ dressing room. He hoped it did- this place was a little creepy. The lighting flickered every so often and the walls were painted black, covered in old posters. Not to mention that it was tiny, and Ryan wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to get so turned around.

Maybe he’d better text Jon. He’d told him to go ahead, that he’d be back to interview the bands in a bit. Then he’d gone and stared at himself in the mirror. He didn’t think he’d gotten as hot as Spencer had, but he at least didn’t want to be the ex that you looked at and wondered, what the fuck was I thinking?

He was starting a text message to Jon when he ran into something solid and fell backwards for the second time in as many hours. His head hit the floor with a thump.

“Ow,” Ryan said pitifully. He kept his eyes closed- he wasn’t sure he wanted to see who he’d manage to run over this time. Also, squeezing his eyes closed was kind of the only thing stopping him from crying and really, no matter who he’d run into, he was pretty sure that they didn’t want to see him cry.

“Sorry, man, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Ryan managed to say.

“I’m sorry, let me- but you know, you really should watch where you’re- Ryan?”

Ryan opened his eyes. Well, shit. His luck apparently couldn’t get worse.

“Ryan, what the fuck are you doing here?” Spencer asked, dropping to his knees next to Ryan. “Are you okay?”

“I’m interviewing you and I’m fine,” Ryan said. He pushed himself up off the floor with a slight wince.

“Wait, you’re the music blog guy?” Spencer asked, standing.

“Great deduction.” He was shaking a little and he didn’t know why. He was over it, okay, he’d moved on. Spencer wasn’t even his ex-boyfriend anymore. He was like, his ex-ex-ex-ex-boyfriend, and Ryan was totally over it. He started to walk down the hallway again. He didn’t want to have this conversation.

“You still writing?” Spencer walked after him.

“What do you think keeping a blog entails?” Ryan paused at the juncture of two hallways before heading left.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Spencer said, sounding fondly exasperated. “And you know what I mean, Ryan. It’s not the kind of writing you love.”

“People change,” Ryan said, trying to spin on his heel and change directions while looking like he’d planned it. He tripped over his feet, but just a little bit and Spencer probably hadn’t noticed.

Spencer laughed. Ryan glared. At least he could hear Jon and Tom’s voices somewhere ahead, so he probably wouldn’t make another wrong turn. Probably.

“Ryan. Before we do the interview, can we talk?” Spencer asked, catching at Ryan’s elbow to stop him. Ryan’s heart beat a little faster. He hoped Spencer didn’t notice.

“About what?” Ryan asked, tugging his arm away. He did stop, though. If Spencer wanted to reconcile, Ryan was willing to at least hear him out.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said. There was an expectant silence. Ryan crossed his arms. “Ryan, I’m sorry. We were kids, we didn’t have a great shot anyway, and I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. He still thought the band could have made it, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Maybe they hadn’t been great, but if they’d just had more time- Either way, it was too late now.

“Don’t be a stubborn ass, Ryan. I’m apologizing. I miss you.” Spencer crossed his arms too. Ryan dropped his eyes. If they were going to have a stare-down, he was going to lose. He didn’t like losing.

“Okay,” he said. “Is there anything else or can we do the interview now?”

“Fine,” Spencer said. “Fine. Let’s just do the fucking interview.”

Spencer brushed past Ryan and turned into a room down the hallway. Ryan watched the line of his back contract jerkily as he stomped. Obviously Spencer was upset that he hadn’t accepted his apology, but Ryan wasn’t sure that it would have made anything better. It’s not like he could just forgive and forget. He didn’t really work like that. And Spencer had broken up with him, anyway. If he missed Ryan now, it was his own fault.

He slumped against the wall. His head still hurt and his eyes hadn’t dried up yet. Fucking floor. Fucking Spencer. After a few more moments, he resolutely ran a hand across his eyes and walked towards the room. He could do this. He was Ryan Ross. He had power. Hipster kids worshipped at the shrine of his blog. The right word from Ryan motherfucking Ross was worth - Ryan couldn’t quite think of an equivalent, but it was worth a lot.

“There he is,” Alex called out from where he was sprawled out on a sofa.

“Sorry guys,” Ryan said, trying to put on a cheerful voice. He pointedly ignored Spencer, who was sitting with his back against the opposite wall. “I got a little lost.”

“No problem. Pull up a seat, let’s get started so we can get to the after party,” Alex said, sitting up a little straighter so there was just enough room for Ryan next to him.

“Uh, Ryan?” Jon stopped him as he passed where he was sitting with Tom. “You, uh. Mirror.”

Jon gestured at his eyes, looking like he was fighting back a smile. Ryan turned and- oh. Oh. Just fucking great, he’d smeared ink from the stamp on his hand across his face.

Ryan scowled. This was going to be a long night.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said, patting the space next to him. “Happens to the best of us, right?”

There were hurried and mumbled assents from the rest of the people in the room. Spencer smiled sardonically at him and Ryan did his best to smile back as he sat down. He had a feeling it came out more like a grimace.

“So. I guess let’s start with Goodbye Gatling,” Ryan said, accepting the tape recorder from Jon. He was a professional, dammit. “Could you tell me a bit about how you got started, for our readers who aren’t familiar with you?”

As the lead singer began to respond, Ryan felt himself relaxing. He really could do this. He nodded reassuringly at Jon when he noticed him looking over, concerned, and settled in to do his job.

*

Ryan stared morosely into the bottom of his drink. He’d been planning on going home after the interview, but Tom had asked if he was going to come hang out with the guys and Jon had looked at him hopefully, so here he was. He still couldn’t believe Spencer.

“He didn’t care when the band broke up and then he broke up with me,” he told his glass. “And now he’s in a new band and I’m…”

He dropped his head into his hands.

“Hey, everything okay?” Someone dropped into the seat next to him.

“I don’t suppose you’ll believe me if I say everything’s fine?” Ryan asked, looking up. It was Tom.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tom asked.

“No one that’s asked me that tonight so far has,” Ryan replied. He threw back the rest of his drink. “It’s like I’m wearing some kind of sign. Not okay and a liar to boot.”

“Whoa. I just saw you looking kind of alone from across the room. But if something’s wrong, any friend of Jon’s is a friend of mine.” Tom awkwardly patted Ryan’s shoulder.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Ryan flagged down the bartender for another drink.

“Okay. Are you sure you should be drinking that?”

“I’m over twenty one,” Ryan said defensively. “And I’m not my dad.”

“It’s just that you seem kind of drunk already, dude, and Smith said you had a nasty fall.” Tom held his hands up in a placating manner.

“Spencer’s talking about me?” Ryan asked, suddenly furious. “What gives him the right? I could talk all kinds of shit about him, too, but I don’t. Because I have class. What is he saying? No, you know what, I don’t even want to know.”

“What? No, Alex just said he ran into you, and Spencer said he did, too. It wasn’t like, anything bad. Unless you’re extremely sensitive about being clumsy or something, in which case he probably didn’t know?” Tom looked kind of alarmed. Ryan hoped he hadn’t scared him off for good. He didn’t want to lose Jon, but he knew that if he had to choose between Tom and Ryan, that’s what would happen. And then they’d probably get together with Spencer and Alex to talk about that weird kid Jon used to run a music blog with, haha, whatever happened to him?

“Dude? You okay?” Tom was waving a hand in front of his face.

“Huh?” Ryan said intelligently.

“I think you should stop drinking. And maybe go home,” Tom said, sliding Ryan’s drink away from him.

“I don’t think I have my keys,” Ryan admitted. He’d thought a self-locking door was a great plan when he first moved in to his apartment until he realized that having to lock his door behind him would at least ensure he never got locked out.

“Can you get your landlord to let you in?” Tom asked.

“She said she’d kill me if I asked to get in after midnight again.” Really, it had only been a couple of times. This month. And wasn’t that what she was there for, anyway?

“Okay. I’ll get Jon, and you can crash at his place tonight,” Tom decided, standing up. “Stay here.”

“What are you two doing on the outskirts of the party?” Alex asked, coming up behind Tom and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Are you at least having a good time?”

“I’m actually gonna get Jon to take Ryan back to his place to crash.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan protested, spinning around on his bar chair and narrowing his eyes. Why wasn’t anyone believing him?

“Weren’t you guys going to crash at Jon’s tonight?” Alex asked Tom.

“Well, yeah, but there’s always room for one more, right?” Tom said.

“You’ve obviously never been in Jon’s apartment,” Ryan said. “It’s fine, I can get the landlady. She probably won’t kill me. Or raise my rent. Isn’t that illegal?”

“Which one? Because the first definitely is,” Alex said. “Why don’t you just crash with me?”

“I don’t want to impose,” Ryan said, even as his heart sped up. He really wanted to impose.

“Don’t be stupid,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Besides, waking up hung-over and alone sucks. If you’ve gotta wake up hung-over, you might as well do it with a friend.”

“Don’t you want to stay?” Tom asked.

“Nah. I’ve been here before and it’s never really any different. Let’s go, Ross,” Alex replied, working an arm around Ryan’s waist and hoisting him up. And whoa, Ryan had definitely not had enough alcohol to be quite this dizzy. He knew his limits. Maybe he’d been pushing them- it had been a stressful day and Ryan hadn’t been quite prepared to see Spencer again- but he shouldn’t have been quite this drunk.

“I didn’t have enough alcohol for this,” Ryan said.

“Right,” Alex said.

“I only had three drinks. Or maybe four,” Ryan protested as he stumbled. “You can ask the bartender.”

“Okay,” Alex said, pulling Ryan closer. “That doesn’t actually make me feel better, considering you hit your head and all.”

Ryan would have responded but decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Also, he really didn’t want to trip again and make a fool out of himself, which was requiring a disproportionate amount of his concentration at the moment. Ryan let himself lean on Alex a little more, following his lead out of the club.

*

“…yeah, no. Hey, stop freaking out, okay?”

Ryan rolled over and groaned. His head really fucking hurt, there was way too much light hitting his face for this to be his apartment, and those were both bad signs.

“No, yeah, you know the interviewer guy? He’s here.” Ryan forced himself to open his eyes. He wanted to know who was talking about him.

Alex Greenwald was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows and on the phone. Holy shit. Ryan was in bed with Alex Greenwald. Ryan had gone back to Alex Greenwald’s apartment last night, stumbling all over the place and generally making a fool of himself, but he didn’t remember what had happened after that.

And Alex Greenwald had at least a shirt on, and a few moments of concentration revealed that Ryan was fully clothed. Alex waved at him and gestured to his phone, like Ryan couldn’t see that he was talking to someone. He rolled his eyes but nodded back.

“Yeah, of course I noticed that he’s cute. I’m not blind. What the fuck does that have to do with anything, though? It’s not like I slept with him… What? No. He was in bad shape last night. I kept an eye on him. End of story. Do you want me to hook you up with a roommate or not?”

Ryan really wanted to know who Alex was talking to, but he wasn’t going to ask. That would be rude, wouldn’t it?

“There’s this kid I met, some new rep from the label. He just got the job and is still apparently living in motels and friends’ couches. I’ll text you his number. Yeah, no problem. It’s fine. Yeah, he’s fine. See you.” Alex ended the call, closing his phone with a decisive snap. “Sorry I woke you up, Ryan. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a bus,” Ryan said, wincing.

“I’m not surprised. You were pretty out of it last night.”

“I didn’t think I drank that much.”

“You hit your head. It’s possible you were mildly concussed,” Alex pointed out. “But I think you should be fine now. I mean, your breathing was fine through the night, and you woke up, so.”

“How do you know?” Ryan asked.

“Well, I stayed up until I figured the danger-zone had passed,” Alex said matter-of-factly.

“You didn’t have to,” Ryan said, looking down. “But thank you.”

“Nah. My sleep schedule tends to run towards the insomniac side of things anyway. Now I think we should both go back to bed since it’s early yet.”

“Still. Thanks.” Ryan checked the clock on the bedside table- it was 10:30. Well, he supposed that was early enough, especially if Alex really had stayed up for him.

“You’re welcome. Sleep. Now.”

“Night,” Ryan said agreeably. There was silence for a beat, two. “So. You think I’m cute?”

Alex flushed, just a little. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

“You were right next to me,” Ryan pointed out. “So?”

“Sleep now,” Alex said, reaching a hand out to push Ryan’s head gently down towards the pillow.

“Okay,” he said, striving to keep a level tone. Alex Greenwald thought he was cute. He was totally allowed to be excited inside. “Night.”

*

“Ryan, you’re not really serious,” Jon said, looking at Ryan over his laptop screen.

“I’m always serious, Walker,” Ryan replied from his seat on Jon’s windowsill.

“Goodbye Gatling had a fun, if slightly chaotic set. With tight guitar riffs and an almost-entirely on-tune performance from their singer, this band is one you shouldn’t miss. The synth dance beats make for a fun performance and their drummer does a passable job performing live,” Jon read out, slightly incredulous.

“All true.” On the street outside, a taxi had pulled up and dropped off a family. The father held the door open as the mother and two kids went in to the building across the way.

“It’s kind of not, dude,” Jon said. “Their drummer was probably the best of the lot.”

“He was okay,” Ryan said, turning to face Jon and crossing his arms. “And it’s not like I said Spencer sucked or anything.” Although he does, his internal voice added snottily.

“This review kind of sucks, no offense,” Jon said. “We can agree to disagree on their music, fine. We’ve done that before. But what’s wrong with your writing?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my writing,” Ryan said. He tried not to show Jon how hurt he was. He knew that it sucked. He’d written it. As his friend, Jon was supposed to be unwaveringly supportive and lie to him about how great it was. Well, okay, not really. Ryan would be really pissed if he published something that Jon had proclaimed great, only to have it turn out to be crap. But in this case, Ryan was perfectly aware that something needed to be done.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jon said. “I’m sorry. Just… is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Ryan snapped.

“You know, normally I’d let it go, but I’m your partner on this thing. If something’s going on which is affecting your work, you’ve got to let me know.” Jon softened his tone and continued, “And more than that, I’m your friend. I’d hope that alone would make you want to talk to me about this.”

Ryan sighed.

Jon waited.

“Spencer drummed for my band, before we broke up,” Ryan said finally. Hopefully that would be enough. He was almost entirely certain that he’d drunkenly told Jon about Spencer before.

“Shit. He’s that Spencer?” Jon asked, setting aside the laptop.

Ryan nodded.

“Want me to write that part of the review?” Jon asked after a few beats. Ryan was grateful that Jon wasn’t going to push it, so he nodded. “Cool. You know, you never really told me what went down. If you want to talk…”

“Not really,” Ryan said. Obviously he’d spoken too soon.

“Okay,” Jon said. “So, your ex showing up out of the blue, that’s kind of a big deal. I say we break out the weed and alcohol.”

“Like we weren’t already headed in that direction,” Ryan snorted. He wasn’t saying no, though.

“We can afford to start a little earlier today,” Jon said, getting up. “I’ll be right back. Hang on a sec.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, but he was itching for a joint. Maybe he could smoke up, drink up, and give up his Spencer-related worries for at least one night.

*

“Jon, Jon, I wasn’t the only one who noticed it, right? You noticed it too, didn’t you?” Ryan said, waving a bottle of Skyy as he talked. There was a little bit of vodka left sloshing around at the bottom. Ryan frowned and downed it- they’d stopped bothering with shot glasses at least an hour ago.

“I noticed,” Jon said. “Wait. What exactly am I noticing this time?”

“His arms, Jon,” Ryan said, slightly exasperated past the buzz. “The way the muscles in his biceps move when he drums.”

“I think we’ve already noticed that at least once,” Jon said. He tipped his head back, resting it against the couch. “No, I’m pretty sure we’ve noticed that at least three times. Dude, why don’t you just talk to him?

“I can’t,” Ryan said. If he went and tried to talk to Spencer, and Spencer rejected him, Ryan would die.

“Yeah, you really can,” Jon said, dropping an arm over Ryan’s shoulders.

“I don’t want to,” Ryan said. “I don’t care about Spencer anymore. Besides, it was his choice to break up. He didn’t choose me then, and he’s not going to now. A couple years doesn’t change anything about that.”

“A couple years changes a lot,” Jon argued. “You were young then. You’re older now, and you obviously still miss him.”

“Do not,” Ryan said. “Besides, Jon, face it. He doesn’t want me. Our relationship is long over.”

“Okay. Say you don’t get back together, even though you clearly want to. At the very least you could patch up your friendship.”

“It’s too late for that.” Ryan turned his face into Jon’s chest and Jon hugged him closer.

“It’s never too late for friendship,” he said. “Ryan, at least think about it. You don’t have that many best friends in your life. They’re not the kind of people you should give up on that easily.”

Ryan didn’t respond, and Jon let a few minutes pass in silence while he rubbed Ryan’s back.

“Maybe I miss him a little,” Ryan said quietly, muffling his words in Jon’s shirt.

“I know,” Jon said, giving Ryan a little squeeze. “You don’t have to, though. At least talk to him.”

“You really think we can fix things?”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “But only if you try.”

“I don’t even know how to find him,” Ryan said in a last-ditch attempt to talk himself out of it.

“And it’s not like we don’t know a bunch of people that are friends with him and his band or anything,” Jon said. “You’re not getting out of doing something that could make you happy, Ryan.”

“Fine,” Ryan huffed. “I’ll call Alex.”

“Since when do you have Alex’s number?” Jon asked, grinning.

“Since I crashed at his place when there was no room for me to crash with you,” Ryan said, hoping that he could guilt-trip Jon into forgetting about this.

“There’s always room-” Jon started. Then he said, “You’re not getting out of it this easily. Make your call, Ryan. No time like the present.”

“It’s late,” Ryan protested. “And I’m drunk. I should wait until tomorrow.”

“It’s not that late and I can guarantee that this conversation will not be any easier to have sober,” Jon said firmly. “Unless you’re chicken.”

Ryan squirmed until he could reach his phone in his back pocket. He did his best to glare at Jon while he found Alex’s entry and hit send.

The phone rang once, twice. Maybe Alex wouldn’t pick up.

The third ring was interrupted by Alex’s voice saying, “Ryan Ross!”

“Hi,” Ryan said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” Alex said. “What’s up?”

“You know the drummer from Goodbye Gatling, right?” Ryan frowned at Jon, who was looking at him expectantly.

“Spencer? What about him?” Alex asked. Ryan grimaced. He felt a thousand times more sober than he had a few minutes ago.

“Do you have his number? Or know when he’ll be back in town?” It would be better to talk to Spencer face-to-face, Ryan reasoned. Phones were awkward and impersonal.

Jon was making a face at him that clearly indicated that whenever Goodbye Gatling came back to New York wasn’t soon enough. Ryan ignored him.

“He’s in town,” Alex said. “He just moved here, actually. Why do you need to know?”

“He’s an old friend. We fell out of touch,” Ryan said, ignoring the sudden weight at the bottom of his stomach. It wasn’t nerves or dread or anything. It was probably just all he’d had to drink.

“An old friend, huh?” Alex didn’t sound too happy. Maybe that was a sign that this was all a bad idea.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “I haven’t talked to him since high school. I figured it would be nice to catch up, see what he’s up to these days.”

“I can give you his number or his address. He just moved in to his new place. It’s nice enough,” Alex said curtly.

“Sure,” Ryan said. “Let me get a pen or something.”

Jon was already reaching for the pencil and notebook on the coffee table. Ryan shifted to the side so Jon could move.

“Okay,” Ryan said. As Alex told him Spencer’s number and address, Ryan relayed it to Jon to write down.

“Is that it?” Alex said.

“I think so,” Ryan said. “Thanks for the help.”

“Sure,” Alex said. “Did you still want to hang out sometime?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “That’d be cool. Listen, though, I’ve got to go.”

Jon was holding up the notebook and pointing to Spencer’s address, making ridiculous faces at Ryan.

“Of course,” Alex said. “We’ll talk.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Call me about hanging out sometime.”

As soon as he’d closed the phone, Jon was talking. “I didn’t know he lived here. That’s so close, dude. You don’t even need to call him. We can just take the L a few stops down tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t just drop in unannounced,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, you can,” Jon said. “It’ll be better if you talk to him in person. The worst that happens is that he’s not home, in which case we wait around and try again.”

The best that could happen was that Spencer wouldn’t be home. Then Ryan could say he tried and Jon would hopefully forget about it. Then he registered exactly what Jon was saying.

“We?” Ryan said, alarmed.

“We,” Jon replied. “You didn’t think I was going to let you do this alone, did you? I’ll wait outside so we can go for celebratory drinks afterwards.”

“More like so you can keep me company while I drown my misery,” Ryan said. “But that’s not really what this is about. You just don’t trust me to follow-through on my own.”

“No, I’m your friend and I want to be there to support you,” Jon said patiently. “And I don’t trust you to follow-through on your own. It’s mostly about the support, though.”

Ryan pouted. Jon smiled.

“Here,” Jon said, grabbing the cigar box where he kept his pre-rolled joints. “Have another hit. We’ll go in the morning.”

“No, we won’t,” Ryan said, reaching out for the box.

“Yeah, we will.” Jon held the weed just out of his reach.

After a moment, Ryan sighed and said, “We’ll go in the morning.”

Jon grinned and handed him the box.

*

Ryan frowned at Spencer’s door. What he thought was Spencer’s door, it was quite possible that this was the wrong address. He should double check before bothering some poor stranger.

He pulled out the piece of paper with Spencer’s address. No, this was definitely the right place. Ryan bit the inside of his cheek. Damn Jon for getting him into this in the first place. Ryan should’ve known better. If he’d kept to his own devices instead of hanging out with Jon, he would never be in this situation.

Jon was clearly a bad influence.

dude. just fucking knock already, Jon texted. Ryan glared over his shoulder. Jon gave him a thumbs up from the window of the coffee shop across the street. Ryan glared harder.

He pressed the button for 6B. One second, two, no one was home, what a shame. He’d have to try again. He’d just turned around when the intercom buzzed and Spencer’s voice said, “Hi, I’m not expecting anyone?”

Ryan swallowed and reached out to respond.

“Hello?”

“Um. Hey, Spence. It’s, um, Ryan? Ryan Ross?” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Ryan.” Spencer’s voice went flat. He was pissed, Ryan could tell.

“Can I come up?” Ryan asked. Now that he was here, there was no use backing down. And maybe Spencer would yell and then Ryan could go back to Jon and say he’d told him so, and also that he’d tried.

The door clicked. “It’s open,” Spencer said.

Ryan took a deep breath and entered the building. It was mangy, an old walkup with peeling paint and a loose railing. He was panting by the time he reached the sixth floor. Jesus, Spencer could have sprung for someplace with an elevator or some fucking air conditioning. Ryan hated August enough on its own, but he hated August in the city most of all. The heat rose up from the pavement and made walking over subway grates like walking over the vents of hell. Everything smelled and his shirts stuck to his back, reminding him of hot summer days spent in Summerlin.

He took a moment to catch his breath and then knocked. Spencer opened the door almost immediately. He was wearing an old band tee and boxers. In Ryan’s expert opinion, he should not have looked as hot as he did. And Ryan definitely should not have wanted to lick up the little drops of sweat collecting in the hollow of Spencer’s throat.

“Can I-” Ryan started, but Spencer swung the door open further and stepped back before he could finish. Ryan stepped inside. The apartment was small but surprisingly clean. There was an old couch pushed up against a wall and a guitar propped next to it. It was a nice guitar, Ryan thought. There was a slight chance that he was jealous. Spencer should not have a nicer guitar than he did. Ryan had been playing for way longer.

“What did you want, Ryan? Brendon’s going to be back soon and he’s not really expecting to see you,” Spencer said, interrupting Ryan’s thoughts.

“Wait, Brendon’s living here too?” Ryan asked, feeling dread rising in his chest. That would explain the guitar. And okay, he’d admit it, he wouldn’t really have said no if Spencer had groveled and begged Ryan to take him back. Provided the groveling was adequate, of course, but still.

“Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?” Spencer asked, puffing up his chest a little and leaning forward. Spencer only got that defensive about people he really cared about. He was living with Brendon. Ryan took a quick look around- there was the kitchen, and a closed door at the end of a short hallway. That was it- Spencer was living with Brendon in an apartment with one bedroom.

“Oh,” Ryan said softly. Oh. Too late, Ross, game over, sorry you were an asshole. “No, I don’t have a problem with it.”

Spencer had made his choice. Spencer had made his choice five years ago. Jon was right, Ryan was the fool for continuing to hold on to something Spencer had clearly let go of.

“Why are you here, Ryan? Shouldn’t you be writing scathing reviews for Pitchfork or hanging out with Alex or something?” Spencer said. He sounded tired. He probably was tired, tired of rehashing a fight he’d thought he’d been done with. With a person he thought he’d been done with.

“I came to- I don’t know. Just, are we cool?” Ryan asked, a little desperately. Not very desperately, and he was proud of himself for that. Really, no one could ask much more of him.

“Sure, Ryan. We’re cool,” Spencer said. He paused. “Hey. I know we’ve both moved on and all, but… I’m still sorry.”

“I know,” Ryan managed to say. “Maybe we could get together sometime, catch up over coffee?” That was an adult thing to do. Adults had coffee with old acquaintances that they hadn’t seen in awhile and caught up, civilly, as they sipped at soy macchiatos. Ryan could do this whole mature thing.

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “Or- I’m probably going to do a housewarming thing. You could come. Alex is already invited, of course, but you could, um, bring him anyway.”

“I’d be happy to come to a party for you and Brendon,” Ryan said. He thought if he said it enough times- you and Brendon, Spencer and Brendon, SpencerandBrendon, maybe it would sink in and stop hurting.

“Okay,” Spencer said. “I’ll- Alex knows the details and I’ll talk to Brendon, let him know you’re not mad or anything.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. “I guess I’ll get going before he gets back then.”

He didn’t wait for Spencer’s response but turned quickly and left. He took the stairs two at a time. He really didn’t think he could see Brendon, not right away. He was over Spencer. He was, it just hurt that Spencer was with Brendon now. Anyone else and Ryan would have been fine, he convinced himself.

“How’d it go?” Jon asked. He was lounging on the front steps of Spencer’s building. Ryan shook his head.

“Ryan?”

“He’s going out with someone else,” Ryan managed to say.

“Oh Ryan,” Jon said, falling into step beside Ryan.

“Yeah. We’re cool, though, friends again and all that jazz. Can we not talk about it anymore?”

“Sure,” Jon said. “So, I was thinking about getting another cat. What do you think?”

Ryan knew Jon had already made up his mind ages ago, but he was grateful for the distraction. “Does it matter what I think? What do Dylan, Clover and Marley think?” Ryan asked, letting himself fall back into familiar patterns.

“I don’t think they’ll mind,” Jon said. “Three’s a crowd, you know, but four’s more even.”

“In that case, shouldn’t you get another dog?” Ryan let the conversation take over. He’d figure out this whole dealing with Spencer thing later.
Part Three