Winter Passing (s/a)
Title: Winter Passing
Author: xnovacine_rushx
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Summary: Finally, he saw the three people he hadn't seen in two years.
Disclaimer: I don't own nada.
Beta: Mimi
Author Notes: Had to write something kinda happy after my emo s/a. And look what I found! Adorafuckable.
Snow was drifting gently down, coating everything in a white powder. Even the snow reminded Ryan of stuff it shouldn't. But, out here, standing in the bright, clear sunshine, Ryan felt clean. Not pure, never pure, but clean. Like maybe he could start over. He leaned against the brick pillar, tuning out the noise of everyone else, but still watching them. Two little boys ran by, wide grins adorning his face. They fell to the snowy ground, laughing, and Ryan found himself smiling. He was reminded of the first time he had met Spencer.
Ryan took a particularly hard swing at a golf ball, and it went soaring into the adjacent field. Not exactly where he wanted it to go, but oh well.
"What are you doing?"
Ryan turned to see a boy with ice-blue eyes staring at him. He was standing next to his mother, who was chattering on her cell phone, as they waited in front of Ryan's neighbors house.
"What are you doing?" shot back Ryan defensively.
Spencer turned to look at his mom, who was ignoring him.
"Waiting to see this house." He pointed to it.
"Why?"
"My mommy wants to have us move there."
Ryan nodded.
"How old are you?"
"Four," Spencer replied, stepping into Ryan's yard.
"I'm five," Ryan boasted.
Spencer just watched him, as he took another swing at a golf ball.
"You wanna try?" asked Ryan, looking up at Spencer.
"Sure," Spencer replied, shrugging.
He walked over to stand next to Ryan, who handed him the club. He eyed the ball, glanced at his mom again, and hit the ball clear over Ryan's fence, and into the empty house across the streets window.
"Spencer!" Spencer's mother exclaimed.
Spencer turned wide eyes on Ryan.
"Bye. Thanks for letting me try!" he whispered, and slunk over to his mother.
Ryan watched them hurry inside, Spencer turning back to wave. Ryan waved back, leaning on the golf club. Spencer. Ryan wondered if he'd ever see him again.
Ryan was drawn out of his reminiscing by the arrival of the train. He looked anxiously to see if it was the right one, and sighed when it wasn't. Curling his hand tighter around his steaming cup of coffee, he wished he wasn't so used to the heat of Nevada. He should have spent more time with Jon in Chicago. Jon. Ryan was brought back to the first time he met that boy.
It was the spring of 2006, and the band was slowly going to hell. Ryan was in a state of constant stress, and he could feel the long-dreaded depression creeping upon him. With the formation of the band, and with leaving home, the feeling of emptiness had been pushed away, the box it was stuffed in locked tight. But Ryan could feel the lock cracking. The first time Ryan saw Jon, he was lounging next to William Beckett, drinking beer. Ryan felt in irrational rush of jealousy, not only because Jon could drink legally, but at the fact he looked so damn cool doing it.
"Hey, Ry," called William, "Whatsup?"
"Um, n-not much," stuttered Ryan, avoiding the stare of Jon. Truth be told, The Academy Is...--mostly William--kinda intimidated him. They were all perfectly nice, but they were so close.
"You want a beer?" questioned Jon, pointing to a few more bottles. Ryan shook his head. He was too lightweight to drink before a show.
"No, thanks. I actually had a favor to ask, William."
"Anything at all, young Ross," giggled Ryan, and he could tell William was already slightly toasted.
"Well, Brent is no show," Ryan grimaced. "No surprise. So, I was wondering if maybe Sisky was up to playing this one show. . ." he trailed off at the distraught look on William's face.
"Shit, Ry," he breathed, "I know he would, but Sisky is with his girlfriend, at dinner, like seriously, a state away. I'm so sorry, Ryan. Maybe Pete is in the area--"
"I can play bass if that's what you need."
Ryan's head snapped over to whoever had spoken those angelic words. It was Jon.
"What? No, like seriously?"
Jon smirked, amused.
"Seriously. You've got a few hours before you go on, and I learn music pretty quick. Just gimme it, and you're all set."
Ryan couldn't stop the ridiculous grin that spread across his face.
"You're a lifesaver, Johnny Walker," chuckled William, pushing him up.
"You have no clue," agreed Ryan.
Jon followed Ryan back to their bus, gaining confused looks from Spencer, and Brendon.
"Guys, Jon is gonna play for Brent."
Brendon beamed, bouncing over to hug Jon. Spencer just grinned at him. And Ryan? Ryan just fell a little in love. Who knew that one day, TAI would no longer intimidate them with their closeness, when Ryan could finally relate?
A woman tapped Ryan on the shoulder, and he jumped.
"Sorry," she apologized, looking sheepish.
"No, no, it's fine," Ryan assured her.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but my daughter is a big fan, and wondered if she could get an autograph, but she's kinda shy."
Ryan looked over to where a little girl was watching them with wide eyes. Man, she was young. Couldn't be older than eleven.
"Of course."
Her mother motioned to her, and she slunk over, not able to meet Ryan's eyes. Ryan smiled.
"I'm Ryan."
"I know." She looked up. "I'm Maria."
"Well, hi, Maria. Your mom said you wanted an autograph?"
"Please?" she whispered, looking up nervously.
"Sure thing."
Ryan searched for something, but came up empty. He pondered for a second, before tugging off his silk scarf. He pulled out a sharpie, and before he could stop himself, scribbled his name on the pale scarf. He handed it to her, loving the way her huge eyes lit up.
"Thank you," she murmured reverently.
"You're welcome."
Ryan smiled at her, as her mother pulled her away. She smiled back. Ryan felt a rush of shame. She shouldn't want his autograph; shouldn't look up to him. He was a horrible influence. First, he breaks up a band that meant everything to four people. Then, he ruins their friendship, taking Jon away from them. And then, he starts using cocaine. It started with one line a friend gave him. One line, went to one line an hour. One line led to near-death. It was Brendon that people should be looking up to. Brendon would give anyone the clothes off his back, if they wanted an autograph. Would sacrifice himself for a stranger. Brendon was love reinvented.
Ryan was leaning into Spencer, going over some music, when the door slammed open. He looked up, to see Brent leading someone in. Must be Brandon.
"Hey, guys. Here he is. Our savior!"
Ryan raised an eyebrow at Brent, before turning to the boy. He wasn't exactly rockstar material. He had oddly well-cut, dark hair that was a sharp contrast to Ryan's messily, self-cut hair. His big, brown eyes were staring out behind red-rimmed glasses, he had pouty, full lips, and was dressed in a white, button down, and black slacks.
"Hi. . .Brandon," Ryan said slowly.
"Brendon," he corrected cheerily.
"My bad, Brendon. It's, uh, nice to meet you. Let's get started."
Ryan nervously handed him the music, and watched him as he scanned it. Spencer squeezed his waist, knowing how nerve-wracking it was for other people to read his lyrics.
"Sounds good!" he finally exclaimed.
Ryan let out a breath, and relaxed. They got in their positions, and Ryan began to sing. He wasn't stupid; he knew he wasn't great. But, if it meant the band got somewhere, it didn't matter.
"I think Brendon should sing some backup vocals. He's really good," Brent piped in.
Ryan stopped, and stared at him.
"Okay," he conceded slowly, "That cool with you, Brendon?"
"Yeah! What do you want me to sing?"
Ryan went over, and leaned over his shoulder, scanning the sheet music. He shifted, and was now pressed to Brendon, breathing in the scent of him; fresh laundry, coffee, and orange. Ryan shivered a little, and Brendon tilted his head a little, so Ryan was staring into his eyes.
"Um," mumbled Ryan, not able to tear his eyes away. "Just, um, the chorus, is fine. . ."
"Okay," Brendon said quietly.
Ryan nodded his head at the mic.
"Come stand next to me."
Brendon nodded, trailing after Ryan. They started up again, and Ryan met Spencer's eyes. Spencer conveyed a sense of knowing in his look. Ryan rolled his eyes, but his head snapped around to look at Brendon the second the younger boy started singing. The music came to a grinding halt, and Brendon looked around terrified.
"Brendon," they all said at once, "You're fucking amazing." Ryan finished, and the others nodded vigorously.
"T-thanks," Brendon said, blushing.
They started up again, giving each other amazed glances. The set went great, and Brent even hugged Brendon on his way out. Spencer hugged Ryan before he left, promising to call.
"Your place?"
Ryan jumped, and saw Brendon still standing there, watching him.
"Y-yeah."
Brendon nodded. "Sweet." He walked over to Ryan, and now they were inches away.
"So, am I in?"
"Definitely."
"Thanks," Brendon whispered, and tilted his face up.
Ryan closed his eyes, and met Brendon's lips. That was first time they kissed; holding each other in Ryan's garage, lips pliable against each others. It took only those few seconds for Ryan to know he would never be the same.
Ryan still felt butterflies in his stomach when he thought of that night. The large clock above his head, tolled the hour. Nine-thirty. A train skidded to a halt, and Ryan couldn't breathe. People began to file off. Finally, he saw the three people he hadn't seen in two years. Two years of rehab, to get to this point. Two years of rehab to see Him again. They were talking amongst themselves, not looking any different. And then they spotted him, and Ryan could really see them again. Spencer had a thicker beard, Jon didn't have one, and Brendon's hair was maybe a little longer. They reached him, solemn expressions. Ryan hesitated, looking at his feet silently. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up, Spencer smiling at him. Ryan launched himself into that familiar, missed embrace. Then, they were all surrounding him, hugging, and touching, and being with him again. At one point, he looked up, and like all those years ago, met Brendon's eyes. This time, there was no wait, as he pulled Brendon's lips to meet his. Looking around at them, he could still see that four year old boy in Spencer. He could still see that beer-guzzling, guitar tech in Jon. And he could still see that geeky, adorable, amazing, beautiful boy in Brendon, that he fell in love with.
Author: xnovacine_rushx
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Summary: Finally, he saw the three people he hadn't seen in two years.
Disclaimer: I don't own nada.
Beta: Mimi
Author Notes: Had to write something kinda happy after my emo s/a. And look what I found! Adorafuckable.
Snow was drifting gently down, coating everything in a white powder. Even the snow reminded Ryan of stuff it shouldn't. But, out here, standing in the bright, clear sunshine, Ryan felt clean. Not pure, never pure, but clean. Like maybe he could start over. He leaned against the brick pillar, tuning out the noise of everyone else, but still watching them. Two little boys ran by, wide grins adorning his face. They fell to the snowy ground, laughing, and Ryan found himself smiling. He was reminded of the first time he had met Spencer.
Ryan took a particularly hard swing at a golf ball, and it went soaring into the adjacent field. Not exactly where he wanted it to go, but oh well.
"What are you doing?"
Ryan turned to see a boy with ice-blue eyes staring at him. He was standing next to his mother, who was chattering on her cell phone, as they waited in front of Ryan's neighbors house.
"What are you doing?" shot back Ryan defensively.
Spencer turned to look at his mom, who was ignoring him.
"Waiting to see this house." He pointed to it.
"Why?"
"My mommy wants to have us move there."
Ryan nodded.
"How old are you?"
"Four," Spencer replied, stepping into Ryan's yard.
"I'm five," Ryan boasted.
Spencer just watched him, as he took another swing at a golf ball.
"You wanna try?" asked Ryan, looking up at Spencer.
"Sure," Spencer replied, shrugging.
He walked over to stand next to Ryan, who handed him the club. He eyed the ball, glanced at his mom again, and hit the ball clear over Ryan's fence, and into the empty house across the streets window.
"Spencer!" Spencer's mother exclaimed.
Spencer turned wide eyes on Ryan.
"Bye. Thanks for letting me try!" he whispered, and slunk over to his mother.
Ryan watched them hurry inside, Spencer turning back to wave. Ryan waved back, leaning on the golf club. Spencer. Ryan wondered if he'd ever see him again.
Ryan was drawn out of his reminiscing by the arrival of the train. He looked anxiously to see if it was the right one, and sighed when it wasn't. Curling his hand tighter around his steaming cup of coffee, he wished he wasn't so used to the heat of Nevada. He should have spent more time with Jon in Chicago. Jon. Ryan was brought back to the first time he met that boy.
It was the spring of 2006, and the band was slowly going to hell. Ryan was in a state of constant stress, and he could feel the long-dreaded depression creeping upon him. With the formation of the band, and with leaving home, the feeling of emptiness had been pushed away, the box it was stuffed in locked tight. But Ryan could feel the lock cracking. The first time Ryan saw Jon, he was lounging next to William Beckett, drinking beer. Ryan felt in irrational rush of jealousy, not only because Jon could drink legally, but at the fact he looked so damn cool doing it.
"Hey, Ry," called William, "Whatsup?"
"Um, n-not much," stuttered Ryan, avoiding the stare of Jon. Truth be told, The Academy Is...--mostly William--kinda intimidated him. They were all perfectly nice, but they were so close.
"You want a beer?" questioned Jon, pointing to a few more bottles. Ryan shook his head. He was too lightweight to drink before a show.
"No, thanks. I actually had a favor to ask, William."
"Anything at all, young Ross," giggled Ryan, and he could tell William was already slightly toasted.
"Well, Brent is no show," Ryan grimaced. "No surprise. So, I was wondering if maybe Sisky was up to playing this one show. . ." he trailed off at the distraught look on William's face.
"Shit, Ry," he breathed, "I know he would, but Sisky is with his girlfriend, at dinner, like seriously, a state away. I'm so sorry, Ryan. Maybe Pete is in the area--"
"I can play bass if that's what you need."
Ryan's head snapped over to whoever had spoken those angelic words. It was Jon.
"What? No, like seriously?"
Jon smirked, amused.
"Seriously. You've got a few hours before you go on, and I learn music pretty quick. Just gimme it, and you're all set."
Ryan couldn't stop the ridiculous grin that spread across his face.
"You're a lifesaver, Johnny Walker," chuckled William, pushing him up.
"You have no clue," agreed Ryan.
Jon followed Ryan back to their bus, gaining confused looks from Spencer, and Brendon.
"Guys, Jon is gonna play for Brent."
Brendon beamed, bouncing over to hug Jon. Spencer just grinned at him. And Ryan? Ryan just fell a little in love. Who knew that one day, TAI would no longer intimidate them with their closeness, when Ryan could finally relate?
A woman tapped Ryan on the shoulder, and he jumped.
"Sorry," she apologized, looking sheepish.
"No, no, it's fine," Ryan assured her.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but my daughter is a big fan, and wondered if she could get an autograph, but she's kinda shy."
Ryan looked over to where a little girl was watching them with wide eyes. Man, she was young. Couldn't be older than eleven.
"Of course."
Her mother motioned to her, and she slunk over, not able to meet Ryan's eyes. Ryan smiled.
"I'm Ryan."
"I know." She looked up. "I'm Maria."
"Well, hi, Maria. Your mom said you wanted an autograph?"
"Please?" she whispered, looking up nervously.
"Sure thing."
Ryan searched for something, but came up empty. He pondered for a second, before tugging off his silk scarf. He pulled out a sharpie, and before he could stop himself, scribbled his name on the pale scarf. He handed it to her, loving the way her huge eyes lit up.
"Thank you," she murmured reverently.
"You're welcome."
Ryan smiled at her, as her mother pulled her away. She smiled back. Ryan felt a rush of shame. She shouldn't want his autograph; shouldn't look up to him. He was a horrible influence. First, he breaks up a band that meant everything to four people. Then, he ruins their friendship, taking Jon away from them. And then, he starts using cocaine. It started with one line a friend gave him. One line, went to one line an hour. One line led to near-death. It was Brendon that people should be looking up to. Brendon would give anyone the clothes off his back, if they wanted an autograph. Would sacrifice himself for a stranger. Brendon was love reinvented.
Ryan was leaning into Spencer, going over some music, when the door slammed open. He looked up, to see Brent leading someone in. Must be Brandon.
"Hey, guys. Here he is. Our savior!"
Ryan raised an eyebrow at Brent, before turning to the boy. He wasn't exactly rockstar material. He had oddly well-cut, dark hair that was a sharp contrast to Ryan's messily, self-cut hair. His big, brown eyes were staring out behind red-rimmed glasses, he had pouty, full lips, and was dressed in a white, button down, and black slacks.
"Hi. . .Brandon," Ryan said slowly.
"Brendon," he corrected cheerily.
"My bad, Brendon. It's, uh, nice to meet you. Let's get started."
Ryan nervously handed him the music, and watched him as he scanned it. Spencer squeezed his waist, knowing how nerve-wracking it was for other people to read his lyrics.
"Sounds good!" he finally exclaimed.
Ryan let out a breath, and relaxed. They got in their positions, and Ryan began to sing. He wasn't stupid; he knew he wasn't great. But, if it meant the band got somewhere, it didn't matter.
"I think Brendon should sing some backup vocals. He's really good," Brent piped in.
Ryan stopped, and stared at him.
"Okay," he conceded slowly, "That cool with you, Brendon?"
"Yeah! What do you want me to sing?"
Ryan went over, and leaned over his shoulder, scanning the sheet music. He shifted, and was now pressed to Brendon, breathing in the scent of him; fresh laundry, coffee, and orange. Ryan shivered a little, and Brendon tilted his head a little, so Ryan was staring into his eyes.
"Um," mumbled Ryan, not able to tear his eyes away. "Just, um, the chorus, is fine. . ."
"Okay," Brendon said quietly.
Ryan nodded his head at the mic.
"Come stand next to me."
Brendon nodded, trailing after Ryan. They started up again, and Ryan met Spencer's eyes. Spencer conveyed a sense of knowing in his look. Ryan rolled his eyes, but his head snapped around to look at Brendon the second the younger boy started singing. The music came to a grinding halt, and Brendon looked around terrified.
"Brendon," they all said at once, "You're fucking amazing." Ryan finished, and the others nodded vigorously.
"T-thanks," Brendon said, blushing.
They started up again, giving each other amazed glances. The set went great, and Brent even hugged Brendon on his way out. Spencer hugged Ryan before he left, promising to call.
"Your place?"
Ryan jumped, and saw Brendon still standing there, watching him.
"Y-yeah."
Brendon nodded. "Sweet." He walked over to Ryan, and now they were inches away.
"So, am I in?"
"Definitely."
"Thanks," Brendon whispered, and tilted his face up.
Ryan closed his eyes, and met Brendon's lips. That was first time they kissed; holding each other in Ryan's garage, lips pliable against each others. It took only those few seconds for Ryan to know he would never be the same.
Ryan still felt butterflies in his stomach when he thought of that night. The large clock above his head, tolled the hour. Nine-thirty. A train skidded to a halt, and Ryan couldn't breathe. People began to file off. Finally, he saw the three people he hadn't seen in two years. Two years of rehab, to get to this point. Two years of rehab to see Him again. They were talking amongst themselves, not looking any different. And then they spotted him, and Ryan could really see them again. Spencer had a thicker beard, Jon didn't have one, and Brendon's hair was maybe a little longer. They reached him, solemn expressions. Ryan hesitated, looking at his feet silently. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up, Spencer smiling at him. Ryan launched himself into that familiar, missed embrace. Then, they were all surrounding him, hugging, and touching, and being with him again. At one point, he looked up, and like all those years ago, met Brendon's eyes. This time, there was no wait, as he pulled Brendon's lips to meet his. Looking around at them, he could still see that four year old boy in Spencer. He could still see that beer-guzzling, guitar tech in Jon. And he could still see that geeky, adorable, amazing, beautiful boy in Brendon, that he fell in love with.