one step forward (two steps back) - part four
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Brent hangs back after practice and Ryan claps him on the shoulder passing him as the last man out, leaving Brent and Jon alone. Jon returns his bass to the case while Brent watches, leaning it against the door before turning around, fingers hooked in his belt and heart beating double-time. Brent is fidgeting, lips stuck between his teeth and Jon winces as he sees the blood smeared over his lip, disappearing and reappearing as Brent worries at it.
"Dude," Jon says, walking over and knocking Brent in the shoulder. It looks even worse close up and Jon's stomach makes a nauseous flip. "Stop that before you make it worse."
Brent looks at him, but let his lip pop out, bruised and swollen. "Happy?" he says and tugs at the hem of his shirt. It says something about the level of stress Brent's under that he can't stop moving and Jon can't help but empathize with the way his stomach can't seem to decide on butterflies or full upheaval.
"Not really," Jon tells him, then sighs and looks around for something to sit on, ending up with the drum chair. He really doesn’t want to do this standing. Maybe this way, his stomach will calm down as well.
Brent eyes him, remaining standing. "Won't the others need the room?"
"No," Jon says, flashing back on the expression on Mike's face this morning. Jon doubts there will be any practice for TAI anytime soon. But he can't think about that right now. "We should be left alone."
Brent nods and walks over to the piano, flopping down on the seat, legs dangling and shoulders hunched as he looks at Jon. Apparently, he isn't going to be the one to begin. Maybe Ryan was right in that they were all part of making this whole mess.
"So," Jon says slowly, setting his feet firmly on the ground and leaning forwards, hands settled between his thighs as prop-ups. "What is that I'm too stupid to notice?"
Brent doesn't say anything for a little while, worrying at his lips again. It isn't exactly calming Jon's mind about this whole fucked up affair, but there isn't really anything he can do but what he's already doing: be open and wait. Then: "It's not as bad as Ryan made it seems." The words exit Brent on an exhale, blurring together to the point Jon can barely understand him. "He's just a worrywart."
"He is," Jon agrees, because Ryan really is. But it doesn't mean he's wrong. "But he's a worrywart that knows you. There's something you're not saying."
Brent makes a frustrated sound, frowns a little as he searches for words that he doesn't seem to have in him. It seems familiar, feels familiar to Jon, but he can't quite put his finger on it. "It's just," Brent finally says. "I thought the homesickness would be over by now. That I would be swept up by tour and not feel like I'd rather be somewhere else."
"And that worries you," Jon concludes, exhaling as he looks at Brent. He should have guessed. He really should have. "Fuck. Brent, that's pretty normal you know."
Brent shakes his head almost before Jon finishes. "Not like this." He looks at Jon and his eyes are darker than Jon has ever seen them. "You should know - didn't 5o4Plan break up because some of you were tired of touring?"
And sometimes Jon really wants to strangle the one who put up that damn notice. "Yes," Jon says, gritting his teeth, hard. "But really. It was more about chemistry in the end - some of us got along better than others, and ..." He shrugs, and it might be forced but it doesn't matter right now. That isn't what this is about. "You can probably figure it out. But you... You've got the rest of the band. You've got me. There's a catching net."
Brent looks down and Jon hopes he hasn't said anything wrong, wishes he could just go over there and hug him or something and make everything be all right. "But it isn't the same," Brent says in a quiet voice. And there's nothing you can do about it.
And yeah, Jon thinks with a lump in his throat and the itch to touch in his hands that pretty much says everything. He jumps off the chair and walks over to Brent, putting his hands on his shoulders. "Well, I can at least distract you," Jon says and tries for a happy tone that doesn't really make it. Brent seems to appreciate it though, looking up. "What do you say? Want to help me prep for the next TAI TV before sound check?"
Brent leans his head back and looks at Jon. The angle seems painful, so Jon takes a step backwards. "I wouldn't be in the way?" Brent asks.
"Nah." Jon grins and suddenly everything feels like it's back to normal, issues swept under carpet and vulnerability hidden behind clear eyes. "I'll use you as my own private pack mule."
That startles a chuckle out of Brent and Jon grins, relieved in return that he can at least do this. "Should have guessed," Brent says with a quirky grin and bright eyes that makes Jon want to tickle him until he begs for mercy. "You only want me for my strong shoulders."
"Who wouldn't?" Jon retorts and it's the truth. Brent's always been more heavyset than the rest of Panic! and Jon still remembers the ease with which he carried equipment with Jon back in the UK. He walks over to his bass, picking it up and waiting for Brent to come on over. "We'll drop this off and head out," Jon tells him as he falls in beside him. "Bill had this insane idea for this week."
Brent nods and glances at him, pushing his hair back from his face until it's tucked firmly behind his ears. "What kind of idea?" he asks, and Jon actually thinks he wants to know.
Jon briefs him as they walk to the buses and when they have dropped off the bass, they head out to film some background footage, Brent carrying the equipment as promised. Not that he protests - he is rather engaged in the process, asking questions and pointing out things to catch on film. He laughs and he poses and Jon laughs with him until the light starts to fade and they have to head back to the venue.
"I had fun," Brent tells him as they turn into the parking lot. His face is flushed and his hair has fallen out from behind his ears, framing his face in brown tangles. "I should have followed you out before."
"You're always welcome," Jon tells him as they linger by the venue door - Brent having to meet up with his band and Jon needing to return the camera. Brent flashes him another smile, then disappears inside. Jon looks after him and knows that at least for now, he's managed to cheer him up, and that makes him feel warm inside.
***
All in all, Jon ends up spending more time with Panic! the rest of the week than he has for quite a while now. He rides with them on their bus, fools around with Brendon as they wait for Panic! to go on, teaches Brent the basics of shooting and lets Ryan quiz him about the Chicago scene. Spencer is still silent in his presence though, eyeing Jon like he suspects him of running off with the silver, but Jon learns not to take it to heart and smile at him until Spencer smiles back in spite of himself.
The tension within TAI grows though, ebbing and flooding with the favor of the crowd until Bill stops smiling as he waits to go on stage and Mike and Tom stop talking to each other to the point of using Butcher as a mediator. Jon can't stop feeling like he should do something about it, but he can't figure out what and can only watch as Mike and Tom go at each other and break up the fights that inevitably break out. Tom begins to glare at him after the fifth time Jon stops him from hitting something and Jon wants to shout at him until he remembers that Jon is his best friend and he's just trying to help, dammit. But he doesn't and Tom begins to avoid him until his absence is a constant nag in Jon's mind, painful and so undeniably there that Jon ends up punching a wall and skinning his knuckles bad enough he has to visit a medic. So when Brent gives him a look as he enters the green room with bandages around his right hand and invites him to an evening of movies and popcorn, Jon doesn't even consider saying no.
When Jon arrives that night though, the bus is empty and dark and he remembers that Brent said they had an interview after the show. Jon lets himself in with the code Brent gave him weeks ago and flops down in front of the TV. He knows there's a marathon of The O.C. on one of the channels and if no one's there to complain, Jon thinks he might as well take advantage of it and snuggles down under a blanket, watching as Summer reams someone out on the screen.
He wakes up later to a moving bus and his feet in someone's lap. Jon squints at them, the bus dark enough that he has to make an effort to make out Brent reading a book with one of those attachable reading lights. "What time is it?" Jon mumbles, yawning and burrowing deeper into the cushions.
"Nine or so," Brent replies, putting down the book and looking at Jon with a strange look in his eyes that makes Jon's heart go thump. "You looked tired."
"Long day," Jon says and yawns again, snuffling a little and burrowing his toes into Brent's side. He's warm. "I guess I'm staying here tonight."
Brent shrugs and glances down for a few seconds. "The couch is all yours." He sounds kind of choked and Jon peers at him. "Or you could share a bunk with me. Your choice."
Jon blinks, not quite computing for a second, then remembers. "Right, Zack sleeps with you now." And with the rest of the techs, it means a full bus and if Jon sleeps on the couch, it meant a destroyed back and a hellish tomorrow. He looks at Brent, who's looking down and chewing on his lip again. "If you don't mind," Jon says, watching him carefully.
Brent had been tense, Jon realizes as he slumps at Jon's words and his hand squeezes Jon's foot through the blanket. "It's fine," Brent says, and his voice is so level Jon frowns. "I don't mind sharing. The couch will probably kill you if you try to sleep on it."
Jon winces, remembering the last time he fell asleep on this couch. It hadn't been pleasant. "Yeah." He slowly heaves himself upright, body seeming twice as heavy from usual. "Mind if I go early? I'm absolutely beat."
"You go," Brent says, waving his hand and letting go of Jon. He is smiling at Jon and there's something warm in the smile that causes butterflies in Jon's stomach. "I think Ryan already went to bed anyway. Something about a call in the morning."
Jon nods and shuffles off, removing his shirt as he goes. From there, it's easy to tumble into sheets that smell of Brent and fall into dreamless sleep.
***
The next morning, Jon wakes up warm, cozy and sprawled all over Brent, face tucked into the side of his neck and Brent's hipbone digging uncomfortably into his side. Brent isn't awake, but Jon can hear the others moving around the bus even though the lack of sheer noise says the techs are already up and out. He shifts carefully off of Brent, who slits an eye open and glares at him.
Jon grins a little and eases himself the rest of the way out, shivering without Brent's warmth against his skin. "Go back to sleep," he whispers and drops to the floor, wincing as he hits someone's shoes and nearly falls.
Brent grumbles at him and pulls the sheets up to his nose, closing his eyes and falling asleep two seconds later. Jon watches him for a few seconds, and then rummages through the duffle in the storage compartment for his things and, more importantly, his watch. Eventually, he finds it in one of Spencer's shoes and winces as he sees the time. He pulls on his clothes and hurries towards the front of the bus, stuffing his feet into his flip-flops as he passes them.
Spencer looks up as he enters, raising an eyebrow as he finishes chewing his sandwich. He has a newspaper spread in front of him and his Sidekick resting on his thigh, coffee standing at his elbow. "Slept well?" he asks.
Jon eyes the food, the scents tickling his nose and his stomach rumbling a response. He checks the watch again and ignores it. "Just fine," he says and continues to the door. Ryan appears from somewhere, tucking a bagel into his hand as he reaches the door and Jon thanks him with a nod, tearing a piece off and stuffing it into his mouth as he slips outside. He hisses at the cold, toes curling as they hit the grass, then power walks towards the TAI bus while eating the rest of the bagel. Breakfast might have to wait, but if he doesn't get socks he will freeze his toes off, and Jon thinks that even his employers won’t accept that excuse for not showing up for work.
***
Curiously enough, it's Ryan that approaches him first about Brent. While Jon is far past thinking that Ryan is withdrawn or prone to brooding, he has learned that when Ryan speaks, there are usually well-articulated thoughts behind it. So to say it is a surprise when Ryan waits for him outside the bus one morning, bundled into a pea coat with a brilliant violet scarf, is to understate a lot.
"Jon," Ryan says with a small smile as Jon hesitates on the way down the bus steps. "You have some time?"
Jon blinks, but checks the time on his watch, mind spinning with questions as to why Ryan is suddenly seeking him out. He woke up intending to take pictures for an hour or two before Panic! usually wakes up.
"Sure," he says, drawing out the vowel. "Something you need help with?"
Ryan shakes his head, still smiling in a way that's making something in Jon's mind wake up and take notice. "Just talk."
"Ah." Jon stares at him, hands fiddling with the camera around his neck. The familiarity of it draws him back to the now and he lifts it slightly, cocking his head. "Mind if I take some photos?"
"No." Ryan shuffles towards him, close enough that Jon can feel his breath as he exhales. Jon tries not to stare and edges away slightly. If Ryan had been anyone else, he would have thought he was flirting but there's something off about Ryan and it's making Jon's mind scream. "Come on. There's a park a little bit away."
They end up walking in that direction, Jon fiddling with his camera and glancing at Ryan, while Ryan takes in the world around him with a small smile that gives Jon the chills and makes him drop the camera twice. He never says anything, just watches as Jon tries to take at least some worthwhile pictures and smiles when Jon raises an eyebrow at him. Only when they start shuffling back towards the venue does he begin to speak.
"Brent likes you," Ryan says, stopping between one step and the next and watching as Jon scrambles to keep his balance and stop his momentum all at once with quiet eyes. He seems almost frozen; not from the weather, but from some inner choice.
"I like him too," Jon says when he's caught his balance, weighing his words before saying them. There's something there, in the air between them, in the subject they're broaching and Jon doesn't know what it is.
Ryan's lips tenses and his eyebrows knit. "No," he says with a sharp gesture, as if Jon isn't getting it when Ryan thinks he should. "Brent likes you."
For a second, Jon's mind blanks, then it reboots and shoves something at him that Jon didn't even know was there: warmth, gazes and hands touching skin. "Oh," he breathes, and his mind comes to a standstill.
Ryan rolls his eyes and shakes his head, still smiling but with that off edge gone. "Pete says you're not someone to freak out,” he says, holding up a hand as Jon tries to say something. "He also said he thought you weren't a hundred percent straight."
"I'm not," Jon says without thinking and is rewarded with a flash of surprise on Ryan's face. His hands twitches a little - he really wants something to hold on to. He hadn't...he couldn't... "I have a girlfriend," he finally says, his hands empty-handed and open, staring at Ryan. Something inside him is till saying ''oh' in a quiet little voice he doesn't recognize.
Ryan nods and cocks his head, eyes soft, and Jon thinks he knows something Jon doesn't even know himself. "Just be careful," he requests, then changes the subject so fast Jon physically reels. "Brent says you play piano and drums besides bass and guitar."
For a moment, Jon can't speak. "Yeah," he gets out after a few seconds and Ryan nods.
"Good," he says, then smiles and gives a little wave before ambling off, pulling his Sidekick from his pocket.
Jon stares after him.
***
Ryan's little bombshell changes things, much as it was probably meant to. Jon has known since he was a teenager that he occasionally likes guys, but he has loved Cassie for a long time as well. But now... Suddenly he can't keep from seeing. Seeing the way Brent's fingers slide with ease over the strings, the way he smiles at Jon when they talk. The way he pulls his hair back in a ponytail when heading to bed, the way he seems to touch Jon all the time. And with that awareness comes the wondering.
***
That evening, Jon wanders out into the crowd for the first time in a while, one of his smaller cameras in hand and the vague inclination to capture the spirit behind the performance. It feels strange to elbow his way through fans though, not to mention that he feels lousy for taking someone's spot, so by the time he reaches first barrier, clicking a halfhearted shot every now and then, Jon shoves his pass into one of the security people's hand and ducks under the barrier, slinking away to take photos without hands and recording devices in the way.
Somehow though, he finds himself taking pictures of Brent rather than the others. Of the way he rocks into his bass, the way his fingers find the chords, the way his hair grows damp and curly, clinging to his face. Then he comes back to himself and forces himself to turn the camera to Spencer only to find himself staring straight into Spencer's eyes: he has been watching Jon, a strange look on his face. Jon snaps a picture out of pure reflex then lowers the camera and stares back.
What, he mouths at Spencer, narrowing his eyes. Spencer shakes his head, lips thin and something around his eyes tense and drawn. Then he closes his eyes again, too timely to be anything but a dismissal. Jon frowns and makes a mental note to look him up after the performance then returns to taking pictures.
As it turns out, Spencer is the one to get a hold of Jon, showing up while Jon is still working his way backstage through security checks and barriers. His face is tense and his blue eyes are nearly all pupil in the dark of backstage. "Jon," he says, nodding towards one of the empty rooms behind Jon.
There's something going on, Jon thinks, and really, there's been a lot of that going around. So he follows Spencer's direction and finds himself alone in a concrete-walled room with Spencer leaning against the door like a barrier against exiting. Jon frowns, taking a step towards him. "Spence?" he asks, shoving his camera into the thigh-pocket of his jeans.
Spencer shakes his head, fixing his eyes at Jon in a way that is quite frankly unsettling. "What are you doing?" he says, voice wavering in a way that Jon doesn't like.
Jon cocks his head and doesn't make a quip. There's something happening right now, and this is not the moment. "I'm not the one staring," he says, leaning back on his heels and letting his body remain relaxed.
"You are," Spencer snaps, hip cocking sharply along with his voice. "You're staring at Brent." He shoves off the wall, into Jon's face and forcing him to take a step backwards if he don't want to knock foreheads. "I know Ryan talked to you," Spencer continues, "so why aren't you doing something about it."
Jon stares and something inside him rears, throwing up defenses until something twists inside him and Jon glares. "And what am I supposed to do?" he says and his back straightens, his hands clench. "Fall on my knees and sing his praises?"
Spencer's eyes narrow, and his shoulders square. "Don't be stupid," he says through gritted teeth. "Just tell him you like him back and do something. You're driving me crazy."
"I'm not the crazy one," Jon snaps and without thinking his fist comes up and Spencer's staring and... Jon wrenches himself back under control and forces his fist back down, swallowing tight against hot feeling in his chest. Spencer's face is blank and--God--there's actual fear in his eyes. Jon looks down, backs away, slumps down against the wall. He waits for Spencer to walk out, for the door to close and not open again. Instead he hears steps as Spencer walks over to him, sits down beside him close enough his body is a line of warmth against Jon's side.
"Just go talk to him," Spencer says, and he sounds so tired Jon wants to cry. He chances a look and Spencer has buried his face in his arms hooked over his knees, his knuckles white with the strength of his grip on his arms. "You're just making both of you miserable."
Jon shakes his head but doesn't say anything, just exhales and inhales, trying to find something to say and failing. Cassie, one part of his mind is whispering. Brent, the other part of his mind says. He closes his eyes and leans against Spencer. He needs to do something.
***
Jon gives up on denial as he walks out of that room, Spencer behind him and the sick feeling in his stomach a testament of what has been. Somewhere in between teching and fooling around, he has fallen in love with Brent and it's far from a crush that can be quenched and forgotten. So no matter how much it hurts and no matter how much it will hurt her, Jon arranges for a night off and books himself into a hotel room and calls Cassie.
It's a cheap motel room with an ugly bedspread and only a coin-operated TV but Jon doesn't care, pulling the top off the bed and chucking his shoes off before sitting down, pulling his legs under himself and looking down at the phone in his hands. He thumbs the two, almost presses call, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he calls.
The phone connects, ringing once, twice, thrice, then something clicks and Jon can hear Cassie breathing on the other side of the line. "Hello? Jon?" She sounds breathless, as if she had to run for the phone. Jon smiles a little - it's easy to see her flushed face in front of him, the way her hair gets frizzy when she runs, falling around her face like a halo. His fingers unclench a little and he leans back against the wall.
"Cassie," he says and his voice comes out no differently than it usually does. "It's good to hear your voice."
Cassie laughs a throaty chuckle that usually sends chills down Jon's back. "It's great to hear yours too. What's up on that tour of yours?"
"Chaos." Jon closes his eyes, lets himself pretend. "Tom's getting worse, Panic! is overtaking TAI in album sales and everything is tense as hell. I think I'm getting an ulcer."
"Sounds bad," Cassie says, her voice quiet. Jon can hear her moving through the room, sitting down on something that squeaks beneath her.
"Not really." Jon bites down on his lip, thinking. "I mean, yeah, it is, but I'm not really the focus of it. It's harder on the guys."
"Yeah, right," Cassie remembers, her voice going up an octave. "You're hanging with the Panic! guys a lot. How does that work out?"
"A little rough at times," Jon admits, "but I think we worked it out." He takes a deep breath, tensing, then relaxing, his mind blank. He doesn't want to do this and he has to, he knows it. He loves them, he can't do this to either of them. He can't. So he steels himself. "Cassie."
"Jon?" Cassie says, and he can hear the frown on her face, the sudden wariness in her voice.
"There's something I need to tell you." He can't breathe, the air sticking in his throat, but he plows on anyway. "I think I'm falling in love." The silence on the other side nearly makes him take it back, but Jon hurries on. "Nothing has happened yet, but, yeah. I don't want to be unfair to either of you if something happens. So-"
"You're breaking up with me." Cassie's voice is flat, hurt, a thousand things Jon can't name and he can find them all in himself.
"It wouldn't be fair to you," he says and this time he can't hear any emotion in himself at all and he wonders if Cassie does. "Not when I feel like this. And it wouldn't be fair to him either." Jon waits - he has told her he is bisexual, but she has never...
"Him." Something in Cassie's voice has changed and Jon blinks.
"Yes, Brent," he says, the name heavy on his tongue.
Cassie chuckles then, and it's utterly, utterly empty. "I saw this coming, you know?" she says, voice distant in a way that has nothing to do with miles. "When you told me you occasionally liked guys, I thought to myself: it's obvious that he loves me, so if he ever leaves me, it will be for another man. I just didn't think it would be after this long."
Something inside Jon hurts at those words: hurts at hearing that she expected this all along, hurts at making it the truth. "Cassie," he says, struggling for words. "I'm sorry. I wish I could say I'd give him up for you, but..."
"He's the male me, I get it." Cassie exhales and when she speaks again, Jon can hear that she's already thinking it over, changing things. "You really haven't done anything yet?"
"No," Jon replies, knowing she deserves the truth. "He doesn't even know."
"Oh, Jon-" Cassie's voice slips back into fondness for a second, then the distance is back. "I...I guess I should thank you for telling me."
Jon's hand clenches around the phone and he has to fight not to fling it across the room. "Don't," he says, speaking through his teeth. "This is my fuck-up and if I had a choice, I wouldn't have entered this situation at all. And I'm even more of a fuck-up for not wanting to lose our friendship like this."
"Jon," Cassie snaps and he flinches. "You're not a fuck-up and you're not losing our friendship. I really don't want to see you right now or even talk to you, but that doesn't mean I'm kicking the bucket on our friendship." She sighs. "Just...don't call me until you're back in Chicago." She laughs and it's breathless enough Jon knows she's close to tears. "I think I need it."
"Yeah." Jon is silent, flopping down on his back and putting an arm over his eyes. "Say hello to Dylan for me?" he asks after a while, not knowing what else to say.
"I will," Cassie says and the subsequent silence where I love you would have gone is a numb ache. "Bye."
The connection terminates and Jon lets the hand with the phone fall. Yeah, he thinks. Definitely a fuck-up.
***
Waking up the next morning is a painful affair; he fell asleep with his clothes still on and plenty of knickknacks in his pockets that have dug into various places of his body overnight. Jon winces as he rolls onto a particularly sore spot and sits up, bracing himself on his knees and studying the bare room. "Fuck," he says, his voice barely audible in the quiet room, then digs out his cell phone from the covers. "Fucking hell," he adds as he sees the time and shoves off the bed, scrambling for the key and stuffing his feet into his flip-flops, slamming the door behind him as he runs for the stairs.
Jon fairly flings the key at the receptionist as he passes him and nearly runs into the door rather than through it. The buses are parked two blocks from the hotel and Jon runs, breathing hard and almost choking on the cold air as he gulps in oxygen. He can't hear the buses moving out or anything really and when he rounds the last corner, there's... Nothing. "Fuck." Jon slides to a stop, nearly falling on his behind as the flip-flops loses their grip on the frosty ground, and stares at the empty parking lot. "Fuck, fuck, motherfucking fuck."
He fishes his cell phone back out of his hoodie and stares at the screen, thumb hovering over the buttons, mind scrambling for someone that's usually awake. Then he pushes three and waits for Tom to pick up.
"Jon?" Tom's voice is loud in the silence of the early morning, scratchy and hoarse like it usually is before his first coffee but with an added edge that makes Jon smile. "Where are you, you little fucker?"
"Overslept," Jon says and exhales the air curling into a white cloud in front of him. He turns around once, peering around him. "Where are you?"
Tom snorts and the edge is gone when he answers. "Well on our way to the next venue." Jon can hear him pour something, probably that coffee, and relate what Jon's saying to the others. "Bill says you could probably catch a Greyhound and make it there in time," he says after a while and Jon sighs, reaching up to scratch the back of his head and turn around again. Starbucks, grocery store, venue, lots of buildings, drycleaner. Might as well take the Starbucks.
"If I knew where to find one, yeah," Jon says and heads off in that direction. It's fucking freezing, and if he has to figure out this thing, he might as well get some coffee while doing it. "Bill didn't happen to mention where to find the bus station?"
Tom slips away again and Jon takes the opportunity to yawn and stretch a little, only to curl in on himself as the hoodie rides up to expose his stomach. "Sorry," Tom says as he returns, the others still mumbling in the background. "The Panic! dudes might know though - Sisky says one of them mentioned being in whatever before."
Edging the door to Starbucks open, nearly losing a flip-flop to the threshold, Jon nods to himself. "Which one?"
"Urie," Tom replies and yawns so that the next words slur. "Want me to call?"
"Nah." Jon walks up to the counter. "I'll do it. See you later hopefully." He motions for a scone - they had always been his favorite when he worked there - and a double shot espresso.
"Yeah," Tom says in the background. "Don't get lost." Then he disconnects and Jon smiles at the barista as he pays before picking up his breakfast. She nods with a smile, yawning behind her hand, and Jon heads off to a corner table, putting down his food before pulling up his cell phone again and sitting down.
It takes a few seconds to find Brendon's number - for some reason, it's saved under Bden and Jon suspects Brent - and when he finally calls, it takes half of his coffee before Brendon answers, slurring a little on the words. No one had told them then. "Jon?" Brendon mumbles, something rustling in the background. "Why're you calling so early?"
Jon finishes chewing his scone and looks out the window. There's silence behind Brendon - they're probably all asleep then. "Need some help," he says and Brendon rustles some more, yawning loudly. "I got left behind at the last stop and Tom says you know where to find the bus station."
"Yeah," Brendon mumbles, the words coming out slower as if he's already falling back asleep. "It's just off of..." He grows silent, and for a moment Jon thinks he's fallen asleep. Then there's a sharp thunk on the other side and the cell phone bangs into something before Brendon's back on the line. "You got left behind?" he says and Jon winces at the volume. Someone says something to him, but Brendon shushes whomever and rustles some more, probably sitting up in bed.
"At the last stop," Jon repeats, leaning back in his chair. "And I need to find the bus station."
"Dude," Brendon says and Jon can hear his raised eyebrows over the phone, "how did you manage that? Zack dragged us up at six."
"Some of us don't have a babysitter," Jon says and takes the opportunity to finish off his scone as Brendon recounts whatever to the others before talking to Jon again. "The bus station is just off the main street, towards the fair we saw," Brendon says. "Remember?"
Jon thinks back - Brendon had been telling Jon he wanted to take some time off to go there if possible, but then had silenced quickly as he spotted the church just behind it, eyes going dark until Jon tickled him into laughter. "Yeah," he says, biting his lip. "There's a church nearby I think."
"That's the one." Brendon hesitates and Jon hears Brent saying something in the background. "Are you going to make it in time for practice?" Brendon asks, parroting something one of the others said. Jon thinks it's probably Ryan.
"I hope so." Jon calculates what he remembers about the distance between this and the next stop. "Probably, as long as I find a bus."
Brendon hums and relates this to the others. "Brent says he'll meet you at the station," he says a bit later. "Zack apparently owes him a favor."
And Zack is also a big woobie, Jon adds mentally, and probably knows everything that had gone on the last few months. He swallows against the sudden lump in his throat and ignores the way his brain suddenly goes Brent! at him, followed by a subdued Cassie!. "Must be some favor," he says, but it doesn't really come out very well.
"Yeah." Brendon sounds subdued as well, probably picking up on Jon's mood. He's good at that, Jon has noticed. "Anyway, I guess I have to let you get going."
Jon looks down - his scone is reduced to a pile of crumbles and the only thing left in his cup is dredges. He lifts it to his mouth anyway, pouring the bitter remains into his mouth. "Probably," he says when he has swallowed and this time it doesn't come out as anything in particular. "See you when I arrive."
Brendon mumbles something vaguely luck-wishing and Jon disconnects the call, staring into the air. He'd broken up with Cassie last night, and in the rush of the morning he'd almost forgotten. And what that means, Jon doesn’t have a clue, but he thinks he will when he meets up with Brent again. He gets to his feet. It might be a good idea to get going.
***
Jon ends up reaching the next stop with an hour to spare, stumbling off the bus with his iPod stuffed haphazardly in a hoodie pocket and cell phone in hand. The sudden change in volume is shocking - the bus was full of school kids for some reason or another and Jon had wanted to kill someone about five minutes into the ride, head throbbing and seat shaking as the kid behind him kicked it. Considering that it wouldn't have gone over well with the rest of the world, Jon had put in his earphones and turned the music up high, letting the mix Tom had given him for his birthday last year take him away.
It's just as cold outside here as it was at the last place and Jon finds himself wishing for a pair of shoes instead of his flip-flops. He isn't dressed for doing anything but walking between bus and motel and his body protests by shivering violently, his toes curling in on themselves as he hides his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie and looks around the station. Jon isn't sure he will actually find Brent waiting so when he finds Zack instead, his large figure standing out among the people huddled under the roof across the lot, Jon only smiles and heads off in that direction, shoulders hunched.
He can see the moment Zack catches sight of him, because that's the moment Zack straightens up, grasping after someone and failing as Brent suddenly appears and half-jogs over to Jon, grinning wildly and looking warm and cozy in a padded jacket and a cap pulled down over unruly hair that sticks out in loose curls. Jon's stomach drops and he thinks oh, reaching out to touch Brent's arm thoughtlessly.
"Overslept?" Brent says, looking at Jon through his lashes and leaning into his touch, smiling.
Jon rubs the back of his neck and can't help but sneak glance after glance at Brent as they walk towards Zack. "Happens the best of us?" he offers and tries not to sound choked with the way he wants to touch Brent, pull him into his arms and not let go. "I fell asleep after calling Cassie and forgot to activate the alarm."
Brent's face falls a little and Jon can't help but throw an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for a quick hug that returns the smile to Brent's face if not his eyes. "Must have been some phone call," Brent says, his voice even.
Jon's stomach knots a little at that and for a second he feel nauseated by the thought of what Brent must think, by the thought of what actually happened; but then Zack catches up to them and nods, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Walker," he says and eyes the crowd again; shifting so he walks in between them and the crowd. "Mind if we make this quick? I think the girls recognize you."
Jon glances involuntarily into the crowd's direction and, more specifically, the gaggle of girls to the left. They are whispering among themselves, giggling and looking in their direction. "Yeah," he says, speeding up a little. "Did they recognize Brent...?"
Zack doesn't answer, busy looking at the girls, but Brent tugs at his cap. "The wonders of hats," he says with a little smile and for a moment Jon loses his breath. Then Brent smirks and the moment is gone. "I think it's you they recognize actually."
Jon blinks and falters, his back suddenly itching. "Me...?"
Zack puts a hand on his back, shoving him back up to speed before he slows down too much. "You're starting get famous on the net," Zack says and suddenly the looks he's been giving Jon lately is much more clear. "Everyone on tour knows JWalk and with your pictures getting popular on Flickr, there are rumors about the mysterious photographer hanging with Panic! and TAI." He is silent for a second and Jon looks back at Zack, immediately wishing he hadn't. "Last I heard," Zack says and looks Jon straight in the eye, "they were putting together the shots you do, the shots you're in and your name."
Jon's stomach vaults and he nearly stumbles again, jerking upright when Zack gets a hand under his arm. He has been putting pictures on net ever since Christmas, never really thinking twice of posting candids of the bands even when they started to get noticeably famous. Jon had noticed the increasing hits and comments of course, but he hadn't really read them. But still, he can see being interesting in the candids, but him?
"Why would they be interested in me?" Jon blurts out and he wobbles as if his body tries to mirror his mind.
Brent grabs him by the hand and for a second Jon's thankful for the support, then the girls' squeal behind him and Jon speeds up until he's fairly dragging Brent behind him before Brent lengthens his steps in response, falling in beside him. "You're in a bunch of pictures with us," Brent says, panting a little, and nudges Jon towards the parking lot. "They were bound to get curious. Not to mention that fans have a tendency to pick up on everything, especially the stuff you don't really want them to know." He glances at Jon and there's something hot in his eyes that makes Jon stumble just a little. "It doesn't hurt you're good-looking either."
Jon flushes and doesn't reply, even though he can see Brent smirking beside him. Instead he looks ahead to see if he can spot the car, deciding that the tiny thing with the rusty exterior and yellow dice in the front window seems likely. Zack proves him right when he strides past them and unlocks the car, shoving them into the backseat before folding himself into the driver's seat. Jon and Brent fit themselves to a side each of the car, resting their legs parallel to each other on the space between, leaning against the windows. It's really a tiny car.
Zack pulls out and Jon takes a last look out the window, looking away hastily as he catches a pair of girls aiming at the car with their cell phones. Taking photos is fine, being in one? Not so much. Brent is looking at him as Jon turns back, corners of his mouth downturned and his face thoughtful.
"It really bothers you, doesn't it," Brent says, drawing out on the words as if tasting them.
Jon shrugs a little and fidgets. "A bit," he says. "It just feels like I have nothing to do with it. I'm a photographer and a tech; I'm not supposed to be famous."
Brent's lips twitch into a grin and he hastily ducks to cover it, hand covering his mouth. Jon can't help but fish out his cell phone and snap a picture of him like that, happy and bathing in sunshine.
"That's not really going to help with the issue," Brent points out, having looked up as Jon's camera clicked. He's still smiling as Jon uploads the picture. "The famous photographer JWalk in a car with his feet in the bassist Brent Wilson's lap. I can hear the squeals of slashiness from all the way over here."
Jon is watching the upload indicator, but looks up at that, blinking. "Slashiness?"
Zack makes a choked sound and Jon looks over, catching his eyes in the mirror. He's bright red in the face and Jon isn't sure if he's blushing or holding back laughter. "Don't ask," Zack advises and, well, now Jon's curious. His thumb twitches to the Wikipedia search almost all by itself.
Brent leans forwards, catching his wrist and halting the movement. "Listen to Zack," he says and bites his lip. "I thought Ryan was going to have an aneurysm the first time he found out about it."
And Ryan doesn't panic that easily in Jon's experience. He eyes the Wikipedia search bar. "That doesn't sound good."
Brent leans back again and shrugs, slumping against the window and still smiling at Jon. "Depends on who you are, I guess," he says. "I'm not too bothered, but I'm not that involved either." That hot thing flashes through his eyes again and Jon's breathe hitches. "I bet it will change now though," he adds and nudges Jon in the side with his foot, smirking.
Zack clears his throat in the driver's seat and Jon looks that way. Zack's staring at the road in front of him with singular attention and there's something strange with that Jon can't quite pinpoint. "Walker," Zack says, voice holding that same strange quality. "Brent's right about things changing - it's very possible that some of the girls will recognize you and connect you to the band. You might want to think about not walking around alone so much; while I don't think the girls will do anything but ask you to have things signed, there's always exceptions."
Jon flinches and remembers the crowds that are always around Panic!, the screaming and shoving. All of which he embraced and loved when he was in a band, but as a tech? "It's that bad?" he asks.
Zack shakes his head and Jon can feel Brent watching him. "Not really," Zack says. "But it would still be better if you keep to the bands so I can keep an eye on you along with the boys."
And doesn't that leave a sour feeling in his stomach. Jon looks down, fiddling with his phone without really doing something. Brent edges his legs closer to Jon's, as if trying to offer what comfort he can. Everything seems to be coming at once, he thinks to himself and he isn't sure what to do about it or even if there's any meaning to even doing something. But one thing is clear: he'll have to start paying more attention.
They arrive to the venue soon after that and Zack brings them to a backdoor and further to the practice room without any stops. Ryan, Brendon and Spencer are already there, talking amongst themselves and watching the door. Jon smiles at them as they greet him and the heavy feeling in his chest slowly dissipates. Friends and music; the things that makes Jon's world go round.
***
Panic's show is awesome that night - or at least that is what people tell Jon afterwards. When Panic! is playing, Jon is being reamed out by Bill and Tom about the stupidity of letting himself be left behind. They still had the time Sisky missed the bus in the middle of nowhere fresh in mind, no cell phone and no memory of any phone numbers. By the time they'd managed to figure out where Sisky was, they had played telephone tag throughout half the tour and Sisky's family, and when Sisky finally got back on the bus, he was shivering and red-eyed and a whole lot of ashamed. After that, Butcher had sat down with him and forced him to memorize everyone's numbers. Jon had his cell phone with him, but that still didn't mean the band hadn't been worried.
"And if you ever do that again..." Bill says and glares with his hands on his sharp hips. He actually looks threatening and with Tom standing behind him with thin lips and eyes that promise a hell of a lot of screaming later, Jon takes him at his word.
"I won't," he promises and sighs, making sad puppy-eyes at Bill. "It wasn't that fun from my side either."
"I'll bet," Bill says, but he can't really hold on to his anger and Tom snags Jon away to the back lounge for some screaming of his own.
All in all, Jon is surprised by how many seem to have been worried when he didn't show up in time. But towards the end of the evening, he is also getting tired of the threats and scolding and feeling more and more like people think he's five and not twenty. But eventually people forget and the tour gets back to business.
Jon takes a morning to check up on his Flickr and realizes that Brent had been right and very possibly understating the situation. When Jon sees the amount of followers he has and starts reading the comments, quickly realizes that, yeah, this really wasn't what he intended when he set up the account. But he don't really want to take down the pictures either, so in the end, Jon decides to leave them public and settle for making new ones private or friends only. A pity, as he likes sharing, but some things were meant to be kept among friends. When people on tour or in his family approach him about being added so they can see the pictures, Jon agrees of course, but he finds that he prefers to know who they are.
***
The weekend for Brent's trip home comes soon after that and Jon can't help but feel sad as he and the others drop him off at the airport. Brent hugs him before leaving and Jon takes the opportunity to hold him back, for once letting himself lean in to him and just be. He hasn't really done anything since he talked to Cassie and isn't really intending to. If something happens, he wants it to be natural and not because of a forced situation.
Hanging his bass over his neck that evening and stepping out on the stage with the others, feels like coming home. It feels natural, enough to keep the butterflies in Jon's stomach away, even when a sizable number of fans already know his name and relish in screaming it as Brendon introduces him. There's nothing strange about standing on the stage with Ryan and Brendon, feeling Spencer's beat at his back. The only strange part is Brent's absence and Jon can feel the lack of him as a dull pain throughout the performance.
But everything ends and when they walk off the stage, Jon feels disgusting, covered in sweat and panting like he has run a marathon. He also can't stop smiling, beaming at his fellow techs, waving at the public and patting Zack on the shoulder as he passes him by; and when Brendon flings himself into Jon's arms as he comes off the stage, Jon catches him and spins him around before putting him down.
"Jon Walker!" Brendon exclaims belatedly and his grin is so large it nearly swallows his face. "You're awesome!"
"I'm always awesome," Jon replies and laughs, accepting Ryan's quick hug and Spencer's nod, all his usual curtness with Jon gone to be replaced with the brightest of grins.
"You are," Brendon agrees and flails off towards the green room, speeding up as he goes. "First shower," he calls and the sound bounces back at them as he turns a corner.
Jon chuckles and takes off after him after a glance at Ryan and Spencer. "Second!" he calls back and runs, letting the air slapping against him cool him down and settle his mind until he's beaming but no longer tired.
It feels even better though, as Brent returns the next day, loose-limbed and smiling and actually laughing when Brendon hugs him, looking at Jon with something soft in his eyes over Brendon's shoulder.
"Saw you on YouTube," Brent says and ambles over to Jon, touching Jon's arm lightly and smiling. "The fans love you."
Jon laughs and tugs him into a hug, nearly lifting him off the ground. "They love you more," he tells Brent and lets himself hold him for another second before letting go. Brent seems as unwilling to let go as Jon, his hands trailing off of Jon's shoulders as if wanting to stay forever. "But thanks for giving me a try."
They're still smiling stupidly at each other when Ryan nudges Jon in the side, smiling one of his small, patented Ryan-smiles. "Don't think this lets you out of practice," he says with a little smirk. "I'm just beginning to make something decent out of you."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Jon promises and hooks one arm around each of their shoulders, stretching a little to reach their height and watching the setting sun through the windows as they walk towards the exit. This really is life.
index | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | Art | Fanmix
Brent hangs back after practice and Ryan claps him on the shoulder passing him as the last man out, leaving Brent and Jon alone. Jon returns his bass to the case while Brent watches, leaning it against the door before turning around, fingers hooked in his belt and heart beating double-time. Brent is fidgeting, lips stuck between his teeth and Jon winces as he sees the blood smeared over his lip, disappearing and reappearing as Brent worries at it.
"Dude," Jon says, walking over and knocking Brent in the shoulder. It looks even worse close up and Jon's stomach makes a nauseous flip. "Stop that before you make it worse."
Brent looks at him, but let his lip pop out, bruised and swollen. "Happy?" he says and tugs at the hem of his shirt. It says something about the level of stress Brent's under that he can't stop moving and Jon can't help but empathize with the way his stomach can't seem to decide on butterflies or full upheaval.
"Not really," Jon tells him, then sighs and looks around for something to sit on, ending up with the drum chair. He really doesn’t want to do this standing. Maybe this way, his stomach will calm down as well.
Brent eyes him, remaining standing. "Won't the others need the room?"
"No," Jon says, flashing back on the expression on Mike's face this morning. Jon doubts there will be any practice for TAI anytime soon. But he can't think about that right now. "We should be left alone."
Brent nods and walks over to the piano, flopping down on the seat, legs dangling and shoulders hunched as he looks at Jon. Apparently, he isn't going to be the one to begin. Maybe Ryan was right in that they were all part of making this whole mess.
"So," Jon says slowly, setting his feet firmly on the ground and leaning forwards, hands settled between his thighs as prop-ups. "What is that I'm too stupid to notice?"
Brent doesn't say anything for a little while, worrying at his lips again. It isn't exactly calming Jon's mind about this whole fucked up affair, but there isn't really anything he can do but what he's already doing: be open and wait. Then: "It's not as bad as Ryan made it seems." The words exit Brent on an exhale, blurring together to the point Jon can barely understand him. "He's just a worrywart."
"He is," Jon agrees, because Ryan really is. But it doesn't mean he's wrong. "But he's a worrywart that knows you. There's something you're not saying."
Brent makes a frustrated sound, frowns a little as he searches for words that he doesn't seem to have in him. It seems familiar, feels familiar to Jon, but he can't quite put his finger on it. "It's just," Brent finally says. "I thought the homesickness would be over by now. That I would be swept up by tour and not feel like I'd rather be somewhere else."
"And that worries you," Jon concludes, exhaling as he looks at Brent. He should have guessed. He really should have. "Fuck. Brent, that's pretty normal you know."
Brent shakes his head almost before Jon finishes. "Not like this." He looks at Jon and his eyes are darker than Jon has ever seen them. "You should know - didn't 5o4Plan break up because some of you were tired of touring?"
And sometimes Jon really wants to strangle the one who put up that damn notice. "Yes," Jon says, gritting his teeth, hard. "But really. It was more about chemistry in the end - some of us got along better than others, and ..." He shrugs, and it might be forced but it doesn't matter right now. That isn't what this is about. "You can probably figure it out. But you... You've got the rest of the band. You've got me. There's a catching net."
Brent looks down and Jon hopes he hasn't said anything wrong, wishes he could just go over there and hug him or something and make everything be all right. "But it isn't the same," Brent says in a quiet voice. And there's nothing you can do about it.
And yeah, Jon thinks with a lump in his throat and the itch to touch in his hands that pretty much says everything. He jumps off the chair and walks over to Brent, putting his hands on his shoulders. "Well, I can at least distract you," Jon says and tries for a happy tone that doesn't really make it. Brent seems to appreciate it though, looking up. "What do you say? Want to help me prep for the next TAI TV before sound check?"
Brent leans his head back and looks at Jon. The angle seems painful, so Jon takes a step backwards. "I wouldn't be in the way?" Brent asks.
"Nah." Jon grins and suddenly everything feels like it's back to normal, issues swept under carpet and vulnerability hidden behind clear eyes. "I'll use you as my own private pack mule."
That startles a chuckle out of Brent and Jon grins, relieved in return that he can at least do this. "Should have guessed," Brent says with a quirky grin and bright eyes that makes Jon want to tickle him until he begs for mercy. "You only want me for my strong shoulders."
"Who wouldn't?" Jon retorts and it's the truth. Brent's always been more heavyset than the rest of Panic! and Jon still remembers the ease with which he carried equipment with Jon back in the UK. He walks over to his bass, picking it up and waiting for Brent to come on over. "We'll drop this off and head out," Jon tells him as he falls in beside him. "Bill had this insane idea for this week."
Brent nods and glances at him, pushing his hair back from his face until it's tucked firmly behind his ears. "What kind of idea?" he asks, and Jon actually thinks he wants to know.
Jon briefs him as they walk to the buses and when they have dropped off the bass, they head out to film some background footage, Brent carrying the equipment as promised. Not that he protests - he is rather engaged in the process, asking questions and pointing out things to catch on film. He laughs and he poses and Jon laughs with him until the light starts to fade and they have to head back to the venue.
"I had fun," Brent tells him as they turn into the parking lot. His face is flushed and his hair has fallen out from behind his ears, framing his face in brown tangles. "I should have followed you out before."
"You're always welcome," Jon tells him as they linger by the venue door - Brent having to meet up with his band and Jon needing to return the camera. Brent flashes him another smile, then disappears inside. Jon looks after him and knows that at least for now, he's managed to cheer him up, and that makes him feel warm inside.
***
All in all, Jon ends up spending more time with Panic! the rest of the week than he has for quite a while now. He rides with them on their bus, fools around with Brendon as they wait for Panic! to go on, teaches Brent the basics of shooting and lets Ryan quiz him about the Chicago scene. Spencer is still silent in his presence though, eyeing Jon like he suspects him of running off with the silver, but Jon learns not to take it to heart and smile at him until Spencer smiles back in spite of himself.
The tension within TAI grows though, ebbing and flooding with the favor of the crowd until Bill stops smiling as he waits to go on stage and Mike and Tom stop talking to each other to the point of using Butcher as a mediator. Jon can't stop feeling like he should do something about it, but he can't figure out what and can only watch as Mike and Tom go at each other and break up the fights that inevitably break out. Tom begins to glare at him after the fifth time Jon stops him from hitting something and Jon wants to shout at him until he remembers that Jon is his best friend and he's just trying to help, dammit. But he doesn't and Tom begins to avoid him until his absence is a constant nag in Jon's mind, painful and so undeniably there that Jon ends up punching a wall and skinning his knuckles bad enough he has to visit a medic. So when Brent gives him a look as he enters the green room with bandages around his right hand and invites him to an evening of movies and popcorn, Jon doesn't even consider saying no.
When Jon arrives that night though, the bus is empty and dark and he remembers that Brent said they had an interview after the show. Jon lets himself in with the code Brent gave him weeks ago and flops down in front of the TV. He knows there's a marathon of The O.C. on one of the channels and if no one's there to complain, Jon thinks he might as well take advantage of it and snuggles down under a blanket, watching as Summer reams someone out on the screen.
He wakes up later to a moving bus and his feet in someone's lap. Jon squints at them, the bus dark enough that he has to make an effort to make out Brent reading a book with one of those attachable reading lights. "What time is it?" Jon mumbles, yawning and burrowing deeper into the cushions.
"Nine or so," Brent replies, putting down the book and looking at Jon with a strange look in his eyes that makes Jon's heart go thump. "You looked tired."
"Long day," Jon says and yawns again, snuffling a little and burrowing his toes into Brent's side. He's warm. "I guess I'm staying here tonight."
Brent shrugs and glances down for a few seconds. "The couch is all yours." He sounds kind of choked and Jon peers at him. "Or you could share a bunk with me. Your choice."
Jon blinks, not quite computing for a second, then remembers. "Right, Zack sleeps with you now." And with the rest of the techs, it means a full bus and if Jon sleeps on the couch, it meant a destroyed back and a hellish tomorrow. He looks at Brent, who's looking down and chewing on his lip again. "If you don't mind," Jon says, watching him carefully.
Brent had been tense, Jon realizes as he slumps at Jon's words and his hand squeezes Jon's foot through the blanket. "It's fine," Brent says, and his voice is so level Jon frowns. "I don't mind sharing. The couch will probably kill you if you try to sleep on it."
Jon winces, remembering the last time he fell asleep on this couch. It hadn't been pleasant. "Yeah." He slowly heaves himself upright, body seeming twice as heavy from usual. "Mind if I go early? I'm absolutely beat."
"You go," Brent says, waving his hand and letting go of Jon. He is smiling at Jon and there's something warm in the smile that causes butterflies in Jon's stomach. "I think Ryan already went to bed anyway. Something about a call in the morning."
Jon nods and shuffles off, removing his shirt as he goes. From there, it's easy to tumble into sheets that smell of Brent and fall into dreamless sleep.
***
The next morning, Jon wakes up warm, cozy and sprawled all over Brent, face tucked into the side of his neck and Brent's hipbone digging uncomfortably into his side. Brent isn't awake, but Jon can hear the others moving around the bus even though the lack of sheer noise says the techs are already up and out. He shifts carefully off of Brent, who slits an eye open and glares at him.
Jon grins a little and eases himself the rest of the way out, shivering without Brent's warmth against his skin. "Go back to sleep," he whispers and drops to the floor, wincing as he hits someone's shoes and nearly falls.
Brent grumbles at him and pulls the sheets up to his nose, closing his eyes and falling asleep two seconds later. Jon watches him for a few seconds, and then rummages through the duffle in the storage compartment for his things and, more importantly, his watch. Eventually, he finds it in one of Spencer's shoes and winces as he sees the time. He pulls on his clothes and hurries towards the front of the bus, stuffing his feet into his flip-flops as he passes them.
Spencer looks up as he enters, raising an eyebrow as he finishes chewing his sandwich. He has a newspaper spread in front of him and his Sidekick resting on his thigh, coffee standing at his elbow. "Slept well?" he asks.
Jon eyes the food, the scents tickling his nose and his stomach rumbling a response. He checks the watch again and ignores it. "Just fine," he says and continues to the door. Ryan appears from somewhere, tucking a bagel into his hand as he reaches the door and Jon thanks him with a nod, tearing a piece off and stuffing it into his mouth as he slips outside. He hisses at the cold, toes curling as they hit the grass, then power walks towards the TAI bus while eating the rest of the bagel. Breakfast might have to wait, but if he doesn't get socks he will freeze his toes off, and Jon thinks that even his employers won’t accept that excuse for not showing up for work.
***
Curiously enough, it's Ryan that approaches him first about Brent. While Jon is far past thinking that Ryan is withdrawn or prone to brooding, he has learned that when Ryan speaks, there are usually well-articulated thoughts behind it. So to say it is a surprise when Ryan waits for him outside the bus one morning, bundled into a pea coat with a brilliant violet scarf, is to understate a lot.
"Jon," Ryan says with a small smile as Jon hesitates on the way down the bus steps. "You have some time?"
Jon blinks, but checks the time on his watch, mind spinning with questions as to why Ryan is suddenly seeking him out. He woke up intending to take pictures for an hour or two before Panic! usually wakes up.
"Sure," he says, drawing out the vowel. "Something you need help with?"
Ryan shakes his head, still smiling in a way that's making something in Jon's mind wake up and take notice. "Just talk."
"Ah." Jon stares at him, hands fiddling with the camera around his neck. The familiarity of it draws him back to the now and he lifts it slightly, cocking his head. "Mind if I take some photos?"
"No." Ryan shuffles towards him, close enough that Jon can feel his breath as he exhales. Jon tries not to stare and edges away slightly. If Ryan had been anyone else, he would have thought he was flirting but there's something off about Ryan and it's making Jon's mind scream. "Come on. There's a park a little bit away."
They end up walking in that direction, Jon fiddling with his camera and glancing at Ryan, while Ryan takes in the world around him with a small smile that gives Jon the chills and makes him drop the camera twice. He never says anything, just watches as Jon tries to take at least some worthwhile pictures and smiles when Jon raises an eyebrow at him. Only when they start shuffling back towards the venue does he begin to speak.
"Brent likes you," Ryan says, stopping between one step and the next and watching as Jon scrambles to keep his balance and stop his momentum all at once with quiet eyes. He seems almost frozen; not from the weather, but from some inner choice.
"I like him too," Jon says when he's caught his balance, weighing his words before saying them. There's something there, in the air between them, in the subject they're broaching and Jon doesn't know what it is.
Ryan's lips tenses and his eyebrows knit. "No," he says with a sharp gesture, as if Jon isn't getting it when Ryan thinks he should. "Brent likes you."
For a second, Jon's mind blanks, then it reboots and shoves something at him that Jon didn't even know was there: warmth, gazes and hands touching skin. "Oh," he breathes, and his mind comes to a standstill.
Ryan rolls his eyes and shakes his head, still smiling but with that off edge gone. "Pete says you're not someone to freak out,” he says, holding up a hand as Jon tries to say something. "He also said he thought you weren't a hundred percent straight."
"I'm not," Jon says without thinking and is rewarded with a flash of surprise on Ryan's face. His hands twitches a little - he really wants something to hold on to. He hadn't...he couldn't... "I have a girlfriend," he finally says, his hands empty-handed and open, staring at Ryan. Something inside him is till saying ''oh' in a quiet little voice he doesn't recognize.
Ryan nods and cocks his head, eyes soft, and Jon thinks he knows something Jon doesn't even know himself. "Just be careful," he requests, then changes the subject so fast Jon physically reels. "Brent says you play piano and drums besides bass and guitar."
For a moment, Jon can't speak. "Yeah," he gets out after a few seconds and Ryan nods.
"Good," he says, then smiles and gives a little wave before ambling off, pulling his Sidekick from his pocket.
Jon stares after him.
***
Ryan's little bombshell changes things, much as it was probably meant to. Jon has known since he was a teenager that he occasionally likes guys, but he has loved Cassie for a long time as well. But now... Suddenly he can't keep from seeing. Seeing the way Brent's fingers slide with ease over the strings, the way he smiles at Jon when they talk. The way he pulls his hair back in a ponytail when heading to bed, the way he seems to touch Jon all the time. And with that awareness comes the wondering.
***
That evening, Jon wanders out into the crowd for the first time in a while, one of his smaller cameras in hand and the vague inclination to capture the spirit behind the performance. It feels strange to elbow his way through fans though, not to mention that he feels lousy for taking someone's spot, so by the time he reaches first barrier, clicking a halfhearted shot every now and then, Jon shoves his pass into one of the security people's hand and ducks under the barrier, slinking away to take photos without hands and recording devices in the way.
Somehow though, he finds himself taking pictures of Brent rather than the others. Of the way he rocks into his bass, the way his fingers find the chords, the way his hair grows damp and curly, clinging to his face. Then he comes back to himself and forces himself to turn the camera to Spencer only to find himself staring straight into Spencer's eyes: he has been watching Jon, a strange look on his face. Jon snaps a picture out of pure reflex then lowers the camera and stares back.
What, he mouths at Spencer, narrowing his eyes. Spencer shakes his head, lips thin and something around his eyes tense and drawn. Then he closes his eyes again, too timely to be anything but a dismissal. Jon frowns and makes a mental note to look him up after the performance then returns to taking pictures.
As it turns out, Spencer is the one to get a hold of Jon, showing up while Jon is still working his way backstage through security checks and barriers. His face is tense and his blue eyes are nearly all pupil in the dark of backstage. "Jon," he says, nodding towards one of the empty rooms behind Jon.
There's something going on, Jon thinks, and really, there's been a lot of that going around. So he follows Spencer's direction and finds himself alone in a concrete-walled room with Spencer leaning against the door like a barrier against exiting. Jon frowns, taking a step towards him. "Spence?" he asks, shoving his camera into the thigh-pocket of his jeans.
Spencer shakes his head, fixing his eyes at Jon in a way that is quite frankly unsettling. "What are you doing?" he says, voice wavering in a way that Jon doesn't like.
Jon cocks his head and doesn't make a quip. There's something happening right now, and this is not the moment. "I'm not the one staring," he says, leaning back on his heels and letting his body remain relaxed.
"You are," Spencer snaps, hip cocking sharply along with his voice. "You're staring at Brent." He shoves off the wall, into Jon's face and forcing him to take a step backwards if he don't want to knock foreheads. "I know Ryan talked to you," Spencer continues, "so why aren't you doing something about it."
Jon stares and something inside him rears, throwing up defenses until something twists inside him and Jon glares. "And what am I supposed to do?" he says and his back straightens, his hands clench. "Fall on my knees and sing his praises?"
Spencer's eyes narrow, and his shoulders square. "Don't be stupid," he says through gritted teeth. "Just tell him you like him back and do something. You're driving me crazy."
"I'm not the crazy one," Jon snaps and without thinking his fist comes up and Spencer's staring and... Jon wrenches himself back under control and forces his fist back down, swallowing tight against hot feeling in his chest. Spencer's face is blank and--God--there's actual fear in his eyes. Jon looks down, backs away, slumps down against the wall. He waits for Spencer to walk out, for the door to close and not open again. Instead he hears steps as Spencer walks over to him, sits down beside him close enough his body is a line of warmth against Jon's side.
"Just go talk to him," Spencer says, and he sounds so tired Jon wants to cry. He chances a look and Spencer has buried his face in his arms hooked over his knees, his knuckles white with the strength of his grip on his arms. "You're just making both of you miserable."
Jon shakes his head but doesn't say anything, just exhales and inhales, trying to find something to say and failing. Cassie, one part of his mind is whispering. Brent, the other part of his mind says. He closes his eyes and leans against Spencer. He needs to do something.
***
Jon gives up on denial as he walks out of that room, Spencer behind him and the sick feeling in his stomach a testament of what has been. Somewhere in between teching and fooling around, he has fallen in love with Brent and it's far from a crush that can be quenched and forgotten. So no matter how much it hurts and no matter how much it will hurt her, Jon arranges for a night off and books himself into a hotel room and calls Cassie.
It's a cheap motel room with an ugly bedspread and only a coin-operated TV but Jon doesn't care, pulling the top off the bed and chucking his shoes off before sitting down, pulling his legs under himself and looking down at the phone in his hands. He thumbs the two, almost presses call, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he calls.
The phone connects, ringing once, twice, thrice, then something clicks and Jon can hear Cassie breathing on the other side of the line. "Hello? Jon?" She sounds breathless, as if she had to run for the phone. Jon smiles a little - it's easy to see her flushed face in front of him, the way her hair gets frizzy when she runs, falling around her face like a halo. His fingers unclench a little and he leans back against the wall.
"Cassie," he says and his voice comes out no differently than it usually does. "It's good to hear your voice."
Cassie laughs a throaty chuckle that usually sends chills down Jon's back. "It's great to hear yours too. What's up on that tour of yours?"
"Chaos." Jon closes his eyes, lets himself pretend. "Tom's getting worse, Panic! is overtaking TAI in album sales and everything is tense as hell. I think I'm getting an ulcer."
"Sounds bad," Cassie says, her voice quiet. Jon can hear her moving through the room, sitting down on something that squeaks beneath her.
"Not really." Jon bites down on his lip, thinking. "I mean, yeah, it is, but I'm not really the focus of it. It's harder on the guys."
"Yeah, right," Cassie remembers, her voice going up an octave. "You're hanging with the Panic! guys a lot. How does that work out?"
"A little rough at times," Jon admits, "but I think we worked it out." He takes a deep breath, tensing, then relaxing, his mind blank. He doesn't want to do this and he has to, he knows it. He loves them, he can't do this to either of them. He can't. So he steels himself. "Cassie."
"Jon?" Cassie says, and he can hear the frown on her face, the sudden wariness in her voice.
"There's something I need to tell you." He can't breathe, the air sticking in his throat, but he plows on anyway. "I think I'm falling in love." The silence on the other side nearly makes him take it back, but Jon hurries on. "Nothing has happened yet, but, yeah. I don't want to be unfair to either of you if something happens. So-"
"You're breaking up with me." Cassie's voice is flat, hurt, a thousand things Jon can't name and he can find them all in himself.
"It wouldn't be fair to you," he says and this time he can't hear any emotion in himself at all and he wonders if Cassie does. "Not when I feel like this. And it wouldn't be fair to him either." Jon waits - he has told her he is bisexual, but she has never...
"Him." Something in Cassie's voice has changed and Jon blinks.
"Yes, Brent," he says, the name heavy on his tongue.
Cassie chuckles then, and it's utterly, utterly empty. "I saw this coming, you know?" she says, voice distant in a way that has nothing to do with miles. "When you told me you occasionally liked guys, I thought to myself: it's obvious that he loves me, so if he ever leaves me, it will be for another man. I just didn't think it would be after this long."
Something inside Jon hurts at those words: hurts at hearing that she expected this all along, hurts at making it the truth. "Cassie," he says, struggling for words. "I'm sorry. I wish I could say I'd give him up for you, but..."
"He's the male me, I get it." Cassie exhales and when she speaks again, Jon can hear that she's already thinking it over, changing things. "You really haven't done anything yet?"
"No," Jon replies, knowing she deserves the truth. "He doesn't even know."
"Oh, Jon-" Cassie's voice slips back into fondness for a second, then the distance is back. "I...I guess I should thank you for telling me."
Jon's hand clenches around the phone and he has to fight not to fling it across the room. "Don't," he says, speaking through his teeth. "This is my fuck-up and if I had a choice, I wouldn't have entered this situation at all. And I'm even more of a fuck-up for not wanting to lose our friendship like this."
"Jon," Cassie snaps and he flinches. "You're not a fuck-up and you're not losing our friendship. I really don't want to see you right now or even talk to you, but that doesn't mean I'm kicking the bucket on our friendship." She sighs. "Just...don't call me until you're back in Chicago." She laughs and it's breathless enough Jon knows she's close to tears. "I think I need it."
"Yeah." Jon is silent, flopping down on his back and putting an arm over his eyes. "Say hello to Dylan for me?" he asks after a while, not knowing what else to say.
"I will," Cassie says and the subsequent silence where I love you would have gone is a numb ache. "Bye."
The connection terminates and Jon lets the hand with the phone fall. Yeah, he thinks. Definitely a fuck-up.
***
Waking up the next morning is a painful affair; he fell asleep with his clothes still on and plenty of knickknacks in his pockets that have dug into various places of his body overnight. Jon winces as he rolls onto a particularly sore spot and sits up, bracing himself on his knees and studying the bare room. "Fuck," he says, his voice barely audible in the quiet room, then digs out his cell phone from the covers. "Fucking hell," he adds as he sees the time and shoves off the bed, scrambling for the key and stuffing his feet into his flip-flops, slamming the door behind him as he runs for the stairs.
Jon fairly flings the key at the receptionist as he passes him and nearly runs into the door rather than through it. The buses are parked two blocks from the hotel and Jon runs, breathing hard and almost choking on the cold air as he gulps in oxygen. He can't hear the buses moving out or anything really and when he rounds the last corner, there's... Nothing. "Fuck." Jon slides to a stop, nearly falling on his behind as the flip-flops loses their grip on the frosty ground, and stares at the empty parking lot. "Fuck, fuck, motherfucking fuck."
He fishes his cell phone back out of his hoodie and stares at the screen, thumb hovering over the buttons, mind scrambling for someone that's usually awake. Then he pushes three and waits for Tom to pick up.
"Jon?" Tom's voice is loud in the silence of the early morning, scratchy and hoarse like it usually is before his first coffee but with an added edge that makes Jon smile. "Where are you, you little fucker?"
"Overslept," Jon says and exhales the air curling into a white cloud in front of him. He turns around once, peering around him. "Where are you?"
Tom snorts and the edge is gone when he answers. "Well on our way to the next venue." Jon can hear him pour something, probably that coffee, and relate what Jon's saying to the others. "Bill says you could probably catch a Greyhound and make it there in time," he says after a while and Jon sighs, reaching up to scratch the back of his head and turn around again. Starbucks, grocery store, venue, lots of buildings, drycleaner. Might as well take the Starbucks.
"If I knew where to find one, yeah," Jon says and heads off in that direction. It's fucking freezing, and if he has to figure out this thing, he might as well get some coffee while doing it. "Bill didn't happen to mention where to find the bus station?"
Tom slips away again and Jon takes the opportunity to yawn and stretch a little, only to curl in on himself as the hoodie rides up to expose his stomach. "Sorry," Tom says as he returns, the others still mumbling in the background. "The Panic! dudes might know though - Sisky says one of them mentioned being in whatever before."
Edging the door to Starbucks open, nearly losing a flip-flop to the threshold, Jon nods to himself. "Which one?"
"Urie," Tom replies and yawns so that the next words slur. "Want me to call?"
"Nah." Jon walks up to the counter. "I'll do it. See you later hopefully." He motions for a scone - they had always been his favorite when he worked there - and a double shot espresso.
"Yeah," Tom says in the background. "Don't get lost." Then he disconnects and Jon smiles at the barista as he pays before picking up his breakfast. She nods with a smile, yawning behind her hand, and Jon heads off to a corner table, putting down his food before pulling up his cell phone again and sitting down.
It takes a few seconds to find Brendon's number - for some reason, it's saved under Bden and Jon suspects Brent - and when he finally calls, it takes half of his coffee before Brendon answers, slurring a little on the words. No one had told them then. "Jon?" Brendon mumbles, something rustling in the background. "Why're you calling so early?"
Jon finishes chewing his scone and looks out the window. There's silence behind Brendon - they're probably all asleep then. "Need some help," he says and Brendon rustles some more, yawning loudly. "I got left behind at the last stop and Tom says you know where to find the bus station."
"Yeah," Brendon mumbles, the words coming out slower as if he's already falling back asleep. "It's just off of..." He grows silent, and for a moment Jon thinks he's fallen asleep. Then there's a sharp thunk on the other side and the cell phone bangs into something before Brendon's back on the line. "You got left behind?" he says and Jon winces at the volume. Someone says something to him, but Brendon shushes whomever and rustles some more, probably sitting up in bed.
"At the last stop," Jon repeats, leaning back in his chair. "And I need to find the bus station."
"Dude," Brendon says and Jon can hear his raised eyebrows over the phone, "how did you manage that? Zack dragged us up at six."
"Some of us don't have a babysitter," Jon says and takes the opportunity to finish off his scone as Brendon recounts whatever to the others before talking to Jon again. "The bus station is just off the main street, towards the fair we saw," Brendon says. "Remember?"
Jon thinks back - Brendon had been telling Jon he wanted to take some time off to go there if possible, but then had silenced quickly as he spotted the church just behind it, eyes going dark until Jon tickled him into laughter. "Yeah," he says, biting his lip. "There's a church nearby I think."
"That's the one." Brendon hesitates and Jon hears Brent saying something in the background. "Are you going to make it in time for practice?" Brendon asks, parroting something one of the others said. Jon thinks it's probably Ryan.
"I hope so." Jon calculates what he remembers about the distance between this and the next stop. "Probably, as long as I find a bus."
Brendon hums and relates this to the others. "Brent says he'll meet you at the station," he says a bit later. "Zack apparently owes him a favor."
And Zack is also a big woobie, Jon adds mentally, and probably knows everything that had gone on the last few months. He swallows against the sudden lump in his throat and ignores the way his brain suddenly goes Brent! at him, followed by a subdued Cassie!. "Must be some favor," he says, but it doesn't really come out very well.
"Yeah." Brendon sounds subdued as well, probably picking up on Jon's mood. He's good at that, Jon has noticed. "Anyway, I guess I have to let you get going."
Jon looks down - his scone is reduced to a pile of crumbles and the only thing left in his cup is dredges. He lifts it to his mouth anyway, pouring the bitter remains into his mouth. "Probably," he says when he has swallowed and this time it doesn't come out as anything in particular. "See you when I arrive."
Brendon mumbles something vaguely luck-wishing and Jon disconnects the call, staring into the air. He'd broken up with Cassie last night, and in the rush of the morning he'd almost forgotten. And what that means, Jon doesn’t have a clue, but he thinks he will when he meets up with Brent again. He gets to his feet. It might be a good idea to get going.
***
Jon ends up reaching the next stop with an hour to spare, stumbling off the bus with his iPod stuffed haphazardly in a hoodie pocket and cell phone in hand. The sudden change in volume is shocking - the bus was full of school kids for some reason or another and Jon had wanted to kill someone about five minutes into the ride, head throbbing and seat shaking as the kid behind him kicked it. Considering that it wouldn't have gone over well with the rest of the world, Jon had put in his earphones and turned the music up high, letting the mix Tom had given him for his birthday last year take him away.
It's just as cold outside here as it was at the last place and Jon finds himself wishing for a pair of shoes instead of his flip-flops. He isn't dressed for doing anything but walking between bus and motel and his body protests by shivering violently, his toes curling in on themselves as he hides his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie and looks around the station. Jon isn't sure he will actually find Brent waiting so when he finds Zack instead, his large figure standing out among the people huddled under the roof across the lot, Jon only smiles and heads off in that direction, shoulders hunched.
He can see the moment Zack catches sight of him, because that's the moment Zack straightens up, grasping after someone and failing as Brent suddenly appears and half-jogs over to Jon, grinning wildly and looking warm and cozy in a padded jacket and a cap pulled down over unruly hair that sticks out in loose curls. Jon's stomach drops and he thinks oh, reaching out to touch Brent's arm thoughtlessly.
"Overslept?" Brent says, looking at Jon through his lashes and leaning into his touch, smiling.
Jon rubs the back of his neck and can't help but sneak glance after glance at Brent as they walk towards Zack. "Happens the best of us?" he offers and tries not to sound choked with the way he wants to touch Brent, pull him into his arms and not let go. "I fell asleep after calling Cassie and forgot to activate the alarm."
Brent's face falls a little and Jon can't help but throw an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for a quick hug that returns the smile to Brent's face if not his eyes. "Must have been some phone call," Brent says, his voice even.
Jon's stomach knots a little at that and for a second he feel nauseated by the thought of what Brent must think, by the thought of what actually happened; but then Zack catches up to them and nods, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Walker," he says and eyes the crowd again; shifting so he walks in between them and the crowd. "Mind if we make this quick? I think the girls recognize you."
Jon glances involuntarily into the crowd's direction and, more specifically, the gaggle of girls to the left. They are whispering among themselves, giggling and looking in their direction. "Yeah," he says, speeding up a little. "Did they recognize Brent...?"
Zack doesn't answer, busy looking at the girls, but Brent tugs at his cap. "The wonders of hats," he says with a little smile and for a moment Jon loses his breath. Then Brent smirks and the moment is gone. "I think it's you they recognize actually."
Jon blinks and falters, his back suddenly itching. "Me...?"
Zack puts a hand on his back, shoving him back up to speed before he slows down too much. "You're starting get famous on the net," Zack says and suddenly the looks he's been giving Jon lately is much more clear. "Everyone on tour knows JWalk and with your pictures getting popular on Flickr, there are rumors about the mysterious photographer hanging with Panic! and TAI." He is silent for a second and Jon looks back at Zack, immediately wishing he hadn't. "Last I heard," Zack says and looks Jon straight in the eye, "they were putting together the shots you do, the shots you're in and your name."
Jon's stomach vaults and he nearly stumbles again, jerking upright when Zack gets a hand under his arm. He has been putting pictures on net ever since Christmas, never really thinking twice of posting candids of the bands even when they started to get noticeably famous. Jon had noticed the increasing hits and comments of course, but he hadn't really read them. But still, he can see being interesting in the candids, but him?
"Why would they be interested in me?" Jon blurts out and he wobbles as if his body tries to mirror his mind.
Brent grabs him by the hand and for a second Jon's thankful for the support, then the girls' squeal behind him and Jon speeds up until he's fairly dragging Brent behind him before Brent lengthens his steps in response, falling in beside him. "You're in a bunch of pictures with us," Brent says, panting a little, and nudges Jon towards the parking lot. "They were bound to get curious. Not to mention that fans have a tendency to pick up on everything, especially the stuff you don't really want them to know." He glances at Jon and there's something hot in his eyes that makes Jon stumble just a little. "It doesn't hurt you're good-looking either."
Jon flushes and doesn't reply, even though he can see Brent smirking beside him. Instead he looks ahead to see if he can spot the car, deciding that the tiny thing with the rusty exterior and yellow dice in the front window seems likely. Zack proves him right when he strides past them and unlocks the car, shoving them into the backseat before folding himself into the driver's seat. Jon and Brent fit themselves to a side each of the car, resting their legs parallel to each other on the space between, leaning against the windows. It's really a tiny car.
Zack pulls out and Jon takes a last look out the window, looking away hastily as he catches a pair of girls aiming at the car with their cell phones. Taking photos is fine, being in one? Not so much. Brent is looking at him as Jon turns back, corners of his mouth downturned and his face thoughtful.
"It really bothers you, doesn't it," Brent says, drawing out on the words as if tasting them.
Jon shrugs a little and fidgets. "A bit," he says. "It just feels like I have nothing to do with it. I'm a photographer and a tech; I'm not supposed to be famous."
Brent's lips twitch into a grin and he hastily ducks to cover it, hand covering his mouth. Jon can't help but fish out his cell phone and snap a picture of him like that, happy and bathing in sunshine.
"That's not really going to help with the issue," Brent points out, having looked up as Jon's camera clicked. He's still smiling as Jon uploads the picture. "The famous photographer JWalk in a car with his feet in the bassist Brent Wilson's lap. I can hear the squeals of slashiness from all the way over here."
Jon is watching the upload indicator, but looks up at that, blinking. "Slashiness?"
Zack makes a choked sound and Jon looks over, catching his eyes in the mirror. He's bright red in the face and Jon isn't sure if he's blushing or holding back laughter. "Don't ask," Zack advises and, well, now Jon's curious. His thumb twitches to the Wikipedia search almost all by itself.
Brent leans forwards, catching his wrist and halting the movement. "Listen to Zack," he says and bites his lip. "I thought Ryan was going to have an aneurysm the first time he found out about it."
And Ryan doesn't panic that easily in Jon's experience. He eyes the Wikipedia search bar. "That doesn't sound good."
Brent leans back again and shrugs, slumping against the window and still smiling at Jon. "Depends on who you are, I guess," he says. "I'm not too bothered, but I'm not that involved either." That hot thing flashes through his eyes again and Jon's breathe hitches. "I bet it will change now though," he adds and nudges Jon in the side with his foot, smirking.
Zack clears his throat in the driver's seat and Jon looks that way. Zack's staring at the road in front of him with singular attention and there's something strange with that Jon can't quite pinpoint. "Walker," Zack says, voice holding that same strange quality. "Brent's right about things changing - it's very possible that some of the girls will recognize you and connect you to the band. You might want to think about not walking around alone so much; while I don't think the girls will do anything but ask you to have things signed, there's always exceptions."
Jon flinches and remembers the crowds that are always around Panic!, the screaming and shoving. All of which he embraced and loved when he was in a band, but as a tech? "It's that bad?" he asks.
Zack shakes his head and Jon can feel Brent watching him. "Not really," Zack says. "But it would still be better if you keep to the bands so I can keep an eye on you along with the boys."
And doesn't that leave a sour feeling in his stomach. Jon looks down, fiddling with his phone without really doing something. Brent edges his legs closer to Jon's, as if trying to offer what comfort he can. Everything seems to be coming at once, he thinks to himself and he isn't sure what to do about it or even if there's any meaning to even doing something. But one thing is clear: he'll have to start paying more attention.
They arrive to the venue soon after that and Zack brings them to a backdoor and further to the practice room without any stops. Ryan, Brendon and Spencer are already there, talking amongst themselves and watching the door. Jon smiles at them as they greet him and the heavy feeling in his chest slowly dissipates. Friends and music; the things that makes Jon's world go round.
***
Panic's show is awesome that night - or at least that is what people tell Jon afterwards. When Panic! is playing, Jon is being reamed out by Bill and Tom about the stupidity of letting himself be left behind. They still had the time Sisky missed the bus in the middle of nowhere fresh in mind, no cell phone and no memory of any phone numbers. By the time they'd managed to figure out where Sisky was, they had played telephone tag throughout half the tour and Sisky's family, and when Sisky finally got back on the bus, he was shivering and red-eyed and a whole lot of ashamed. After that, Butcher had sat down with him and forced him to memorize everyone's numbers. Jon had his cell phone with him, but that still didn't mean the band hadn't been worried.
"And if you ever do that again..." Bill says and glares with his hands on his sharp hips. He actually looks threatening and with Tom standing behind him with thin lips and eyes that promise a hell of a lot of screaming later, Jon takes him at his word.
"I won't," he promises and sighs, making sad puppy-eyes at Bill. "It wasn't that fun from my side either."
"I'll bet," Bill says, but he can't really hold on to his anger and Tom snags Jon away to the back lounge for some screaming of his own.
All in all, Jon is surprised by how many seem to have been worried when he didn't show up in time. But towards the end of the evening, he is also getting tired of the threats and scolding and feeling more and more like people think he's five and not twenty. But eventually people forget and the tour gets back to business.
Jon takes a morning to check up on his Flickr and realizes that Brent had been right and very possibly understating the situation. When Jon sees the amount of followers he has and starts reading the comments, quickly realizes that, yeah, this really wasn't what he intended when he set up the account. But he don't really want to take down the pictures either, so in the end, Jon decides to leave them public and settle for making new ones private or friends only. A pity, as he likes sharing, but some things were meant to be kept among friends. When people on tour or in his family approach him about being added so they can see the pictures, Jon agrees of course, but he finds that he prefers to know who they are.
***
The weekend for Brent's trip home comes soon after that and Jon can't help but feel sad as he and the others drop him off at the airport. Brent hugs him before leaving and Jon takes the opportunity to hold him back, for once letting himself lean in to him and just be. He hasn't really done anything since he talked to Cassie and isn't really intending to. If something happens, he wants it to be natural and not because of a forced situation.
Hanging his bass over his neck that evening and stepping out on the stage with the others, feels like coming home. It feels natural, enough to keep the butterflies in Jon's stomach away, even when a sizable number of fans already know his name and relish in screaming it as Brendon introduces him. There's nothing strange about standing on the stage with Ryan and Brendon, feeling Spencer's beat at his back. The only strange part is Brent's absence and Jon can feel the lack of him as a dull pain throughout the performance.
But everything ends and when they walk off the stage, Jon feels disgusting, covered in sweat and panting like he has run a marathon. He also can't stop smiling, beaming at his fellow techs, waving at the public and patting Zack on the shoulder as he passes him by; and when Brendon flings himself into Jon's arms as he comes off the stage, Jon catches him and spins him around before putting him down.
"Jon Walker!" Brendon exclaims belatedly and his grin is so large it nearly swallows his face. "You're awesome!"
"I'm always awesome," Jon replies and laughs, accepting Ryan's quick hug and Spencer's nod, all his usual curtness with Jon gone to be replaced with the brightest of grins.
"You are," Brendon agrees and flails off towards the green room, speeding up as he goes. "First shower," he calls and the sound bounces back at them as he turns a corner.
Jon chuckles and takes off after him after a glance at Ryan and Spencer. "Second!" he calls back and runs, letting the air slapping against him cool him down and settle his mind until he's beaming but no longer tired.
It feels even better though, as Brent returns the next day, loose-limbed and smiling and actually laughing when Brendon hugs him, looking at Jon with something soft in his eyes over Brendon's shoulder.
"Saw you on YouTube," Brent says and ambles over to Jon, touching Jon's arm lightly and smiling. "The fans love you."
Jon laughs and tugs him into a hug, nearly lifting him off the ground. "They love you more," he tells Brent and lets himself hold him for another second before letting go. Brent seems as unwilling to let go as Jon, his hands trailing off of Jon's shoulders as if wanting to stay forever. "But thanks for giving me a try."
They're still smiling stupidly at each other when Ryan nudges Jon in the side, smiling one of his small, patented Ryan-smiles. "Don't think this lets you out of practice," he says with a little smirk. "I'm just beginning to make something decent out of you."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Jon promises and hooks one arm around each of their shoulders, stretching a little to reach their height and watching the setting sun through the windows as they walk towards the exit. This really is life.
index | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | Art | Fanmix