The Steps He Counted Towards Him

Jon heard the knock at the door. He knew it was time. Actually, it was past the time since the knock came seven minutes and forty three seconds after the knock said it would come. But he couldn’t be mad because the knock had come, despite Jon’s fixation that the knock wouldn’t care to show.

He got up swiftly to answer it. He crossed from carpet to tile, tile to wood, wood to rug. He felt the changes under his bare feet. He counted his steps. 27, 28 29, 30, 31. He stopped at the door, staring grimly at his feet. He took another step to the side. 32.

He opened the door. He saw Spencer with his straw fedora, his bright red sunglasses, and his bags in tow. Spencer looked up into Jon’s face and his lips curled into an open, sincere smile. “Hey, man,” his voice was bright and content even though his flight plus his overlay in Houston had to be at least 10 hours. That was still nothing to the all-nighters Jon had pulled two nights in a row in preparation for this event.

Jon opened the door wider, inviting him in. “Hey,” he said softly.

Spencer walked into the apartment, looking around. “Where should I put all this stuff?” Spencer said indicating his leather backpack and his three stick bags that he brought.

“Um… you can put them in the guest bedroom, over here,” Jon walked down the hall, making a left turn at the first opportunity. 17, 18, 19, he counted. damn it, 20. He took another unnecessary step.

“Nice little place you got going here. Feel good to be home?” Spencer put the bags in the corner by closet. He took a seat on the bed. The sheets were light blue and soft to the touch. Jon had made sure they were.

“Yeah, it’s great. I’m in the epicenter of all my favorite restaurants,” he laughed.

“Awesome,” Spencer nodded he took off his hat and then his glasses. Jon was at a safe distance to watch him do this. This is what he drove him over the edge. The unveiling of those eyes. Those eyes that changed their shade like a mood ring. If’s Jon’s record were organized correctly, they could be anywhere from powder blue to aquamarine to navy, depending on certain factors like amount of time slept the previous night, amount of happiness or sadness in life, and even sex drive. Not that it was ever directed toward Jon. Right now, they were a dusty Carolina blue. He was happy, hungry, and on the edge of tired.

“Are you hungry? We could go eat somewhere before you have to go to the interview?” Jon said trying not to gawk.

The reason Spencer had come to Jon’s Chicago apartment was not for Jon. He had recently got a call to do a piece in a drum magazine about the equipment he had used for their past tour. The magazine’s headquarters were in Chicago. Jon was saving Spencer some money and giving him someone to hang out with for the weekend.

“Oh, I’m starving,” Spencer said running his nails over his bangs. “I got to be there in about an hour. Think we can make it?”

Jon rolled his eyes, “Oh, course we can. Gosh, don’t worry about the time so much.” His comment was so secretly hypocritical. He only kept his OCD ways around Spencer. Around others and when alone, Jon was normal and kind of lackadaisical. Meeting Spencer changed these habits though and replaced them with new ones.

Spencer got up and followed Jon out the door and down the staircase. 43, 44, 45, 46. 1, 2, 3, 4. Every time he crossed into a new room, he started his counting over.

The streets of Chicago were bright in the summer sun. Spencer slipped his glasses on again. Damn. “So what do you want to eat?” Jon asked him after they had walked 64 steps.

“Just something fast. I really don’t want to be late to anything today,” Spencer said. They indulged in some street vendor goodies before Spencer had to catch a cab to his interview.

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Jon was back at the apartment. He lay on his couch with his head propped up on the armrest. The position was beginning to give him a headache, but he was too busy to care. He was thinking over every step, every movement that Spencer had made. He was deep inside his mind, trying to find a hidden meaning in any words, in any utterances that he made. The thing about Spencer is that he was so honest and so blunt about everything. It made it hard for Jon to find any hope that… someday he wouldn’t have to hide his Spencer-induced tendencies. Instead of having problems when he was close-proximity of those bright blue eyes, he’d have a problem when they weren’t on him.

Jon got up from the couch and went into Spencer’s room. He straightened the wrinkle on his light blue sheets and opened the blinds of the window to let the sunny day shine in. He tried to find something in the room that would make it better. He opened the closet door and walked inside. There was nothing in there except some boxes that Jon had never unpacked.

He came back out and shut the closet door. He turned and tripped over
Spencer’s leather backpack. He was face down on the carpet. He could feel the burn on his arms from his landing. Graceful. Jon thought. He turned and sat up on the ground. He looked back to see if Spencer’s bag was out of place. It was. His over the weekend goods were all over the floor in random alignment. Jon sighed and began putting the stuff in the bag. Clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, journal. Jon stopped. Journal.

He starred at the bound book. He knew what he should’ve done. He should’ve put it in the bag and gone on his merry way. But he didn’t. He opened it and turned to the most current entry, marked with a red ribbon going down the middle of the page.

On a plane from Houston to Chicago. I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep. I’m so nervous about the interview. It will be nice to see Jon, though. I went from seeing him every day, to not seeing him at all. I’m sure he’ll calm me down a bit. He always has that effect on people.

Jon knew he shouldn’t have read it. He knew it. He closed the book, defeated and gulled. Shameful and sad. He threw it back in the bag and stood up. He went farther down the hall into his own bedroom. 15, 16, 17. He stood there a second, wondering if he should make it even. He didn’t care. He threw his shirt to the ground before throwing himself into his bed, hiding under the sheets and forcing his eyes shut. He really needed to sleep right now. He was tired, wistful, and down on himself and there was no real cure anymore.

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“Jon. Jon!” he rolled awake. He saw deep sapphire eyes staring down at him. Satisfied, restless, and half-asleep.

“What time is it?” Jon rubbed his mahogany eyes and yawned.

“Almost 11,” Spencer said sitting on the edge of his bed.

“How did the interview go?” Jon sat up against the headboard before realizing he had thrown his shirt aside before falling asleep.

“Really well, actually,” his eyes shined like the Crown Jewels.

“Good. I’m so happy for you,” Jon said smiling up at him.

They sat there in silence a moment. “Well,” Spencer said, ”I guess I’ll head off to bed, long day.”

“Sleep well,” Jon said. Tucking himself back into his sheets.

“You, too,” Spencer said before closing the door of the bedroom. Jon suddenly felt a rush of courage.

“Wait,” Jon said as the door was only a crack open.

Spencer opened it again. “Yes?”

Jon got up from the bed and crossed to where Spencer was standing in the threshold. 4, 5, 6. “What would you do if I just did something really spontaneous and stupid right now?”

“Well… it wouldn’t be spontaneous cause you just told me you were gonna do it.”

“Spencer,” Jon sighed.

“Okay. Okay. Like what?”

“Like… I… kissed you… or something.” Jon blushed, suddenly feeling much less brave.

Spencer starred at him. His eyes flooded with midnight blue. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He sighed. “Don’t do it, Jon. Please.”

Jon felt his heart pull into two. The threads that connected them snapped at the pressure. His face fell and mind went blank. “Okay. It was just a question.” Jon turned and took six more steps before crawling into his bed.

Spencer sighed again. “I’m sorry, Jon. Sleep well.” He shut the door gently behind him.

But Jon didn’t sleep well. He barely slept. He was wide awake after seeing Spencer, standing over his bed with his blue eyes.

He lay there in his bed, thinking how he got so deep into this state of affairs. It was probably his inability to accept reality. His continuous suspicion that something was gonna happen that never did. He could always picture Spencer, standing behind him, even when he was miles away. He always thought he’d run into him while out, though he never did.

Now the real visual of Spencer over his bed was starting to set in and Jon was imaging what would branch from that. Would Spencer then lay down, next to Jon, and put his hand on the nape of Jon’s neck? Jon could feel the roughness of the drummer’s hands against his neck as he pondered the situation endlessly. Excavated it till it was dust.

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Jon watched the sun rise from his bed. He thought about how odd it was that the sun rose so fast, like it was excited to see people’s shining faces, though it took what seemed hours to set, like it was reclusive to go away. He guesses that’s how he felt right now. Excited to see Spencer’s shining eyes, yet he was sad to see them go last night. Sad to see them deny him last night.

He went to the kitchen, counting his steps till they were even. 22, 23, 24.He started the coffeemaker on the counter and listened to it bubble nosily. He poured himself a cup and went outside to the veranda, sitting down in a cozy wicker chair. He watched the city wake up slowly, like an urban yawn. He saw the working class people racing around into their various office buildings and the bums come out from hiding to begin their begging. He saw the young singles jogging around with their dogs and the children lugging their too-big backpacks on the route to school.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spencer sit down in the chair next to him. He turned to him and his, now, bright aqua eyes. Content, refreshed, and calm.

“Good morning, Mr. Smith,” he said taking another sip of coffee. “Sleep alright?”

“Yeah, I slept great,” Spencer said with his own cup of coffee in hand, “you got a great view right here.”

“Yeah, I sure do,” Jon said staring at Spencer, watching him take another sip from his cup and his nose crinkle at the bitter taste.

“What are we gonna do today?” Spencer asked him, still looking out over the city skyline that showed smidges of Lake Michigan in the distance. The water was rough today and dark blue, just like Spencer’s current eye color.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?” Jon said quietly. He hadn’t really taken the question seriously, he just shot out a cookie cutter answer.

“Come on, man. This is your city. Show it to me,” Spencer smiled at him. That was one thing Jon loved about Spencer. He was always the nice guy. He was never mean spirited or negative. He always came with a good attitude and open arms.

“Well, I think some of the Chicago guys are in town. We can meet up with them at Angel and Kings later. Would you like that?”

“That’s would be awesome,” Spencer beamed sincerely.

Jon went inside to make the calls. Pete, Patrick, Travis, Bob, Beckett, and more were to meet at Angel and Kings that night. He poked his head out the sliding glass doors. “Hey, get ready. We’re going to lunch.”

“Okay,” Spencer got up and went to his bedroom to get ready. He came out with his jeans and t-shirt with a vest draped over his lovely torso.

“You’re gonna need to change,” Jon said looking him up and down. “The place I’m taking you is on the beach.”

Spencer went back for another try. When he came back, Jon saw he had forsaken the denim for Butcher-like mesh shorts in a shade of maroon. American Apparel, no doubt. He had also taken off the leather boots at decided on flip-flops instead.

Jon went into his room and pulled on his swim shorts and a grey v-neck. He slipped on his signature flip-flops and him and Spencer were out the door.

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The sun was shining bright of the waters of Lake Michigan. The sand like white fairy dust. With the winds off the lake, it was at a perfect temperature.

“So where are we eating?” Spencer said as they walked the wooden bridge that led to the beach.

“Over here,” Jon said tuning left. They followed in the footprints others had left previous to them. Vendor’s were aligned on the edge of the sand, trying to sell their goods and services. They had anything you wanted from massages to knock off designer sunglasses to Chinese parasols. Jon walked towards the end of the line, where the amount of people on the beach was thinning out. A rickety table sat with a group of Hispanic women, fanning themselves in the sun. “Hola, Silvia,” he waved to the oldest woman.

“Oh, hola Jon. How are you today?” she had a thick accent and a crinkly worn face.

“I’m great, thank you. Can I have the usual?” Jon said over the counter, getting out his wallet.

“Of course, of course. Who is your friend?” she said pointing Spencer, who was standing off to the side awkwardly.

“This is Spencer. He’s a friend whose visiting for the weekend,” Jon said handing over five twenty’s to Silvia.

“Aw. So nice to see you have some company, instead of being alone,” Silvia propped a large basket on the table. “Well, have a nice day. Nice to meet you, Spencer.” She smiled and the other girls behind her waved.

“Thank you,” Jon said walking down the beach some more. Spencer walked beside him, kicking up sand with every step. Jon strolled until he came to a vacant spot on beach. “This place looks good.” Jon put the basket down on the ground and opened it On top, lay a beautiful Mexican “Zarape” Blanket that was striped with colors of pink, green, and black. Jon sat down and looked up at Spencer. “Sit, sit.”

“What is this?” Spencer asked confused, but cooperating and sitting down on the blanket.

“Silvia is my life saver. Her whole family owns a Mexican place in town, but on Sundays, they close and sell these picnic baskets on the beach.” Jon opened the top again and pulled out two plastic cups that were made to look like glass. He then pulled out a bottle and poured them each a glass.

“What is that?” Spencer asked.

“Homemade sangria. The best I’ve ever tasted,” Jon smiled, cushioning the bottle in the sand.

“Can’t you not drink on the beach?” Spencer asked grabbing the glass off the blanket. He smelled the concoction before sipping it.

“Not really but the alcohol content is fairly low in this version so they usually get by without trouble. Good isn’t it?” Jon said pointing to Spencer’s glass.

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Spencer smiled taking another sip. “What else you got in there?”

Jon opened the top and pulled out a white paper bag that was damp in some parts and a 12 oz Styrofoam bowl with a plastic lid. The red contents were already visible through the transparent lid. “We got some chips and salsa.” He set them on the blanket before diving back. He pulled out four tubes of aluminum foil. “And four fish tacos.”

“That is so cool. They need these in LA,” Spencer said taking another sip. “So you come here a lot?”

“Yeah. It’s really gorgeous here during the summer, so I come just about every Sunday,” Jon unwrapped himself a taco and took a bite. “I have a closet full of blankets and baskets.”

“I don’t blame you. Thanks for bringing me here. It’s really… special,” Spencer smiled at Jon.

Jon blushed under his sunglasses. He wished he could see what color Spencer’s eyes were but they were covered by his bright red plastic frames. “Anytime.”

They sat and ate in the sun. Between the lunch, the waves, the sand, and Spencer, it was a beautiful set up. It was so close to perfect for Jon, though. He on the edge of something wonderful, but the non-reciprocated feelings were holding him back.

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They returned home a couple hours later and had to get ready to go to Angels and Kings. They both decided on taking showers. Jon got out of his first. He walked into the kitchen messing with his wet hair. As soon as his feet hit the tile, the idea was alive inside of him. He hated himself. He tried to keep himself from doing it.

He gave in.

He walked to the guest bedroom. 19, 20, 21, 22. The shower was still running. Spencer had been known to take long showers on the bus. Jon bent down to the leather backpack on the floor. He winced in guilt. He flipped open the top of it and smiled. The journal was lying conveniently on top. He opened the book, flipping until the saw the red ribbon.

Jon asked me if he could kiss me last night. I stopped him because he must have been drinking or something cause he would have never done that. Got up today and sipped coffee on the terrace with him. Everything seemed forgotten luckily. He really must of knocked a few back while I was at the interview. The view from his place is amazing. Went to the beach for one of the best lunches I’ve ever had. Lake Michigan and the Gomez’ family sangria recipe is forever etched in my heart and liver. Speaking of my liver, going to A&K’s tonight to do it more than a little harm. Jon’s been a great host this weekend, despite last night.

Jon sighed. Again, he regretted doing it. He heard the shower shut off and he shoved the journal back in the bag. He went to sit on the couch, ready to go, and wait for Spencer.

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Spencer came out fifteen minutes later. He wore one of those black button down shirts that always wore. The way he tucked it behind the belt of his jeans without looking overdone amazed Jon. Jon got up off the couch and they exited the building. They flagged down and cab and drove to A&K’s. By the time they got there, the party had already started. Pete had a tendency to invite everyone and their brother at the mere mention of a ‘get-together.’ The music was pumping out the speakers as Gabe was on turntables.

“Hey, Hey, Hey!” Patrick dove upon them as they walked in. “How are you doing?”

“Great,” Spencer said giving him a hug, “How are you?”

“Good, good,” Patrick nodded, “Do you guys want something to drink? Consider it on the house.”

“Yeah, sure. Jon, you want anything?” Spencer turned to him.

“No, I’m okay. Thanks,” he waved it away, sheepishly.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you after last night,” Spencer said jokingly.

Jon just smiled and nodded.

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The night went on. Familiar faces flooded in along with the hugs and liquor. Jon stayed away from it, which was so unlike him. He watched every drink that went down Spencer’s throat. He began to get a little bit tired of being surrounded by drunks. He looked at Spencer. He was laughing at William about something, but it could not have been as funny as Spencer made it seem. He was laughing a little too hard. As soon as he calmed down, he stumbled over to Jon.

“Jon! What’s up, man?” he hugged him like he hadn’t seen him in ages. “Dude, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you drinking a little something something?” His eyes were powder blue and glazed over. He was totally smashed.

Jon did not want this to escaladed. “Ah, Spencer you didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” Spencer was immediately confused and enthralled by Jon’s question. He sat down next to him.

“They are gonna lock all the doors to my apartment in five minutes. We have to get back or else we’ll have to sleep outside,” Jon couldn’t help but giggling a little at this.

“What? That’s horrible. Well, we got to get back, then! I can’t sleep on the street!” Spencer put his drink down on the table and got up.

Jon couldn’t help but thinking how smart he was for thinking of tricking Spencer home. They got home after Spencer had to be basically carried up the stairs while he shouted, “We made it! We won!”

Jon sat Spencer down on the couch and gave him a bottle of water. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”

“Why do I need to feel better? I feel great!” Spencer chugged down half the bottle. Dehydration much?

“You are completely trashed, Spence. We need to make it all better,” Jon said sat down next to him.

“You know who got totally wasted last night? You did. You even asked me if you could kiss me! Do you remember any of that?” Spencer got louder when he got drunk. He was practically shouting at Jon.

“No, I don’t remember a thing, dude,” Jon played along.

“You know, I probably would have done it if I you weren’t just doing it cause you were drunk. I mean, I even wrote in my journal that it was something you would never ask me. Just my luck that the one time you do, it’s cause you’ve been partying without me!” Spencer through his hand up in the air. “Do have another one of these?” he asked holding up an empty water bottle.

“Yeah, sure,” Jon went into the kitchen to get him another water and two Advil. He knew the sobering would start anytime now. “So let me get this straight?,” Jon said sitting back down on the couch and handing Spencer the water. “You would have kissed if me if you thoughi I was being serious, but you didn’t cause you thought I was drunk?”

Spencer nodded while gulping down another half a bottle. When he came up for air, he groaned. “Ah, my head hurts, Jon,” he put his hands on his head.

“That’s what happens when you party hard. Here, take these,” he handed him the pain-relievers. Spencer took them and drained the rest of the water. His eyes began fluttering and his body became limp. “Alright, buddy. Time to go to sleep. Do you need help getting there?” Jon used his best baby voice.

Spencer nodded and smiled. Jon grabbed under his legs and behind his head and hoisted him up. Not easy, considering that Spencer weighted only a little less than he did. He placed him in his blue bed, tucking him under the covers. “Good night, Spencer,” he whispered in his ear.

He heard a muffled groan and took that as his ‘good night.’ He went to his bedroom and clicked the lights off before falling into a deep, pensive sleep.

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Spencer stumbled out onto the veranda the next morning with a cup of coffee in hand. “Good morning,” Jon said as he came in.

“Hello” Spencer rubbed his tired eyes. This morning they were a dull, pasty greyish blue. It was almost noon and the sun was shining high above the city. People were hustling around to go to lunch.

“What happened last night?” Spencer said sitting down in the same seat as the day before.

“You got completely out of your mind drunk. You don’t remember a thing do you?” Jon laughed and took another sip of coffee.

“If I do it’s very very vague,” Spencer said.

Jon laughed. “You said some pretty odd shit last night?” He rubbed his rugged face.

“Like what?” Spencer asked. He seemed… scared.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon looked away.

“Jon,” Spencer almost whined.

Jon loved having this… control over him. Probably since he always lost all of his around Spencer. “You told me,” he began with an uncontrollable smile, “that you didn’t kiss me the other night, because you though I was drunk. You said, if you hadn’t suspected I was under the influence than you would have done it.”

“You remembered the other night?” Spencer tilted his head to the left. Obviously trying to put pieces together.

“Yeah, I do. You know why?” he asked.

“Why?” Spencer said on the edge of his seat.

“Because I wasn’t drunk. I hadn’t had even one drink that night.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Yeah right, Walker.”

“No, I’m serious. I was totally clean,” Jon giggled.

“Then why did you ask me if you could kiss me?” Spencer was so confused, yet the answer was so simple.

“Because I wanted to kiss you,” Jon smiled wide.

“You’re lying to me!” Spencer voice got a little higher than normal.

Jon stood up and walked over to Spencer, 1, 2.

“What would you do if I just did something really spontaneous and not so stupid
right now?” Jon asked looking into his eyes. Before Jon, they were turning from foggy and grey to electric blue.

“Well… it wouldn’t be spontaneous cause you just told me you were gonna do it,” Spencer laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

“If I like kissed you or something?” Jon said, acting he was improv-ing.

“I guess... I’d kiss you back,” Spencer shrugged and fiddled with his messy bed hair.

Jon didn’t blush or count or even think. He just stooped his head down and gingerly placed his lips on Spencer’s. The kiss was slow, sweet, and too long-overdue.

Jon pulled away. “When do you have to be at the airport?”

“I have to leave in a half-an-hour,” Spencer smiled.

“Well, then I guess we don’t have much time,” Jon said in his most sultry voice.

“Well, that’s more than enough time for me, but I’m not sure if that’s enough time for you,” Spencer shrugged.

“Oh, shut up and take you shirt off,” Jon laughed.

No more counting, no more concentrating on floor surfaces, no more fear, no more sadness. Only pure passion. Only true love.