The Young and Lost Club

I was such a fucking cliché, but in all honesty, I could think of nothing else to do but drink until I was belligerent enough to think everything was okay again. So that’s exactly what I was doing. I was at the bar in the venue , beyond caring about how I looked, and running up a huge tab.
I was a fuck up. Really, there were no other words. And what I really wanted to do was run away again. Pick up and leave, change my number yet again, hell, maybe this time I’d change my name. No one deserved this. Not Alex, not my brother, not Taylor, not any of our bands, fuck, not even Brendon deserved this situation. But of everyone, it was Alex I was crying for most. He had given me all the freedom one could possibly need, and the first thing I did was go and sleep with Brendon. He still wouldn’t pick up his phone. I didn’t know what I’d say if he did pick up, I just knew I had to talk to him.
I wanted to leave, but I knew that that was the selfish option. I had to stay, I had to fix all of this, I couldn’t abandon my brother, and I couldn’t abandon my dream. I may have been miserable, but I knew if I left now, I would regret it for the rest of my life.
Quite suddenly, I felt a hand close tightly on my shoulder and I spun around quickly (nearly falling off my chair-having 4 drinks in under 45 minutes would do that to you) to reveal a very angry, very serious Ryan Ross. “We need to talk,” he spat at me. I had never seen Ryan like this, and it scared the shit out of me.
“Ok,” I agreed instantly, knowing disagreeing with him was not a wise option.
He yanked me out of the chair and half dragged me outside the bar and into the street. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snarled when we were an appropriate distance from the venue.
I looked down, chewing my lip hard I could nearly feel the skin breaking. I didn’t know what to say, and if I did find the words, I’d only cry.
Ryan’s grip on my arm tightened and I let out a gasp of pain, but he didn’t loosen his grip. And that’s when I realized Ryan Ross wasn’t just angry, he was livid, and it was because I had finally broken the cardinal rule: don’t fuck with his friends.
I deserved it. I had never deserved Ryan’s generosity or kindness. I had known that sooner or later he would reach the end of his rope with me, that with the situation between Brendon and I would eventually call for everyone to pick a side, that it was a polarizing effect, and I didn’t blame him for picking Brendon’s side. But it didn’t stop me from begging. “Ryan,” I pleaded, my voice shaking and terrified. “Ryan, p-please.”
I must have looked horribly pathetic because his grip loosened on me and he sighed, looking a little less angry. “Look, Clark. I love you, you’re one of my closest friends, you’re like a sister to me, but if you don’t stop fucking with Brendon then…” he trailed off looking exasperated, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he would give me another chance? He sighed again, dropping my arm. “What you did last night was low, I never would have thought you would,” his voice lowered, “you, know…why did you sleep with him, Clark? And then you go and kiss him after telling him to leave you alone? What the fuck were you thinking?”
Suddenly anger flared up in me. I may not have deserved Ryan’s kindness, but Brendon was equal to blame in this situation. Yes, the song was cruel, and I had tried to prevent it, but what happened after was a mutual consent of both Brendon and I. And I certainly hadn’t forced him to kiss me. He could have pushed me away. I wish he had. But this…this was both of us. Brendon and I. And we were both to blame, and Ryan had no right to put it all on my shoulders. “You think I wanted that to happen?” I snapped suddenly and Ryan looked up, alarmed at the venom in my words. “You honestly think I wanted any of this to happen? I just fucked up everything positive in my life! Alex won’t speak to me,” Ryan opened his mouth in surprise. “Yeah,” I snarled, when I realized he probably thought I wouldn’t have told Alex what had happened. “That’s right, I told him, because I couldn’t stand the guilt. I just slept with the guy who fucking destroyed me, alright? And you know what? It wasn’t even me who started it, he followed me, he kissed me, and yeah I didn’t stop him, but it was still pretty fucking mutual. So point fingers all you want Ryan, but at least put the blame on us equally!” I was panting pretty hard at my outburst, but it felt good, in some weird, twisted way. It felt like I was standing up for myself, that I was finally sick of being the kicked dog, and was finally growing some spine. And maybe I would go down, maybe I’d end up alone, but fuck it, I would go down fighting. Ryan still hadn’t said anything, so I jerked my chin up defiantly. “So go ahead Ryan, take his side. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”
“Clark, no,” Ryan groaned, taking me by the shoulders. “No, come on.”
“You come on, Ryan! I’m so…I’m so fucking sick of this!”
“Just…just talk to him, Clark. Please? Please?” He begged. “He’s fucking miserable, you’ve been avoiding him…I just want you both happy, you know that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“I can’t talk to him.” I said quietly, softening at his words.
“Why?”
I sighed, biting on my lip more. “I’m going to try and fix things with Alex.” I admitted quietly.
Ryan suddenly looked horribly sad. “Is…is that really what you want?”
I clenched my jaw. “It’s what makes sense.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I asked.”
“Honestly?” I said. “Honestly Ryan? I’m tired. I’m tired of the drama, and the hurt, and the arguing, and the ripping my friends apart, and the selfishness. And most of all, I’m tired of being so fucking sad all the time. All I want is peace in my life, and the only time I’ve had that since my Mom died, is when I was with Brendon. And that scares the shit out of me.” The words were out before I had really thought about them, but as soon as I said them, I knew it was the truth. I was scared. I was scared beyond belief.
Ryan’s face was etched with concern. “Why?” he said quietly. “Why should that scare you?”
I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself protectively. “Because…because I’m afraid it means I’m dependent on him. And I can’t even trust him. And…and…because I still love him. And that is so fucked up. I love him and I can’t trust him and I feel like I’m never going to be happy again.”
Ryan shook his head furiously. “No Clark,” he said gently. “It doesn’t mean you’re dependent on him. It’s not fucked up. He made you happy.”
“How could he do it?” I said, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. “How could he do it if he loved me? He keeps saying he does, and I can’t…I could never do what he did.”
Ryan laughed slightly. “Don’t be hypocritical, C.C. Didn’t you do the exact same thing to Alex?” He pointed out gently. “I know you don’t love Alex like you love Brendon, but you do care about him, and I know you don’t want to hurt him, but you got carried away, and you saw how easy it was.”
I shut up at that. As stupid as it sounds, I never even thought of it that way.
“Do you want my advice?” He asked, softly.
“Yes.”
“Forgive him. Forgive him and try again. Even just as friends. You and Brendon…you belong together. It doesn’t mean you depend on him for happiness, it just means him being in your life makes you happy.”
I laughed dryly, even though it wasn’t funny. “What’s the difference?” I asked shakily.
He gave me a small smile. “Perspective.”

I stayed up all night, thinking things over. Thinking everything over. About how we met, about how we broke up, about how things may have been different if I had stayed and actually talked to Brendon instead of leaving for Chicago. About my mother. About my father. About Oliver, about my past, about Alex. But mostly, I thought about Brendon. I thought about what could have been, and I thought about where we were now.
I wondered if he hated me now for messing with his emotions.
I wondered if I ever actually hated him.
I called Alex, there was no answer. I called Jack, no answer. I called Rian and when he answered I asked, firmly, but politely, to talk to Alex.
“It’s called taking a hint, Clark.” He spat as soon as the phone was in his hand. “What do you want?”
“I want to apologize, Alex. I am so sorry. I am. I never meant to hurt you, and I am so, so, sorry.”
There was a long pause. And then, he sighed. “I could forgive you, I think.” He said quietly.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I…”
“Do you love me?” He demanded suddenly. “Because I’m in love with you Clark, and don’t play stupid because you know I’ve been in love with you since Pete’s birthday party, and you know I was biding my time until there would be a time I could have a chance, and I have to know if you love me at all.”
“I…I do,” I said, and it was honest. “I do love you Alex but…”
“Don’t…don’t say it…” it sounded like he was about to cry and it hurt me more then I could ever have thought it could.
“I’m sorry. I lied. I still love him. And I can’t move on. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“Fuck. Fuck!”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“So…so now you’re going back to him? After what he did to you you’re just going back to him?”
I decided to lie, one last time, because I couldn’t bear to hurt him anymore than I already had. “I don’t know yet.”

|||
The sun was just coming through my blinds in my bunk before I couldn’t handle it anymore. Ryan had said that he and Jon at least were out to breakfast and I slipped out of the bus and ran across the lot.
I knocked hesitantly on the door of Panic’s bus, and then chewed on my lip as I heard someone come to the door. “Hi, Spence,” I said quietly when he opened the door. “Is Brendon here?”
Spencer gave me an odd glance and I nodded slightly, hoping he could understand. “Yeah,” he said just as quietly. “Go ahead, he’s in his bunk. Everyone else is out.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said as I stepped onto the bus.
Spencer smiled slightly at me, gave me a squeeze on the shoulder and slipped outside, closing the door behind him.
I was nervous. Nervous because I didn’t know what to really say, because I knew that today, come hell or high water, a chapter in Brendon and mine’s life would be over. Something today was going to end. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and headed to the back of the bus.
All of the other bunks had the curtains open, except for one, on the bottom. Brendon always preferred a bottom bunk. He had a serious phobia of falling off the top when they were driving late at night (according to Ryan, he had actually done so and nearly got a concussion).
I knocked on the wood post next to the bunk with my knuckles. “I told you Spencer,” Brendon spat furiously from inside, his voice harsh and rough. “I don’t want anything to eat. Leave me alone.”
“I’m not Spencer,” I said.
There was a slight pause and then the curtain was wrenched open and Brendon, seeing me, tried to stand up and instead hit his head hard on the top of the bunk. “Ahhh, fuck!” He groaned, leaning back and rubbing it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to startle you, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, still rubbing the spot. There was a slightly awkward pause.
“I…I, um, thought we should talk,” I said eventually, rubbing my wrists in anxiety. They hurt from so much continuous play on tour.
“Probably,” he said. He wouldn’t looking at me. He was sitting with his feet flat on the floor, his hands clasped, head hung.
“Can I sit?” I asked quietly. He motioned to the spot next to him and I sat. “I guess I should start by saying that I’m sorry.” I began. “And I am, Brendon. I am so sorry for any pain, for anything that I’ve done to you. I was selfish. I’ve been selfish. At the time, I didn’t think leaving would really have any consequences. To be honest, I wasn’t thinking of you. I just had to escape. And I’m sorry if it hurt you.
“The thing is Brendon, we need to fix this. Because, look at us. Neither of us our happy, we’re both miserable. And what we did the other day…that was wrong. That was really, really, wrong.”
“I know,” Brendon said, his voice still sounded thick and rough. “I know it was, and I agree. We need to fix it.” He looked up at me, finally, looking me in the eye, and we both smiled at each other sadly.
I bit down on my lip for a second before asking, “What do you want Bren? How do you want to fix this?”
He sighed. “Honestly?”
I nodded.
He glanced up for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, and my heart plummeted. “All I want…all I want is for you to be happy,” he said in a rush, looking at me dead in the eyes. “Clark,” he said, now speaking quickly, and grabbing my hand. “Clark, I told you the other day that I love you, and I do. I really, and truly do, and I know that I do not just because ever since I cheated on you that I’ve hated myself, I know because more than anything, I want you to be happy. You deserve happiness, Clark, more than anyone I know. And I know you are with Alex now, and I swear to God, if he makes you happy, then I’ll leave you alone, I will…”
“I’m not with Alex anymore,” I said cutting him off. “We broke it off…I told him what happened. With us. And…it wasn’t fair to him.”
“I’ll call him,” he said, his hand clutching mine tighter. “I’ll tell him that it wasn’t your fault, that I took advantage of the situ…”
“No, Bren,” I said, quietly. “You aren’t listening. Alex and I…we had a very odd relationship. We had agreed before I left for tour to try an open relationship: that we could sleep with anyone if we wanted to, as long as at the end of the day we would say we were together.”
“Then why…”
“Because when I told him, he asked me if it meant something, or if it was just a casual, meaningless thing.”
Brendon stiffened. “And?” He whispered.
“And I told him that of course it meant something.” I looked at him, and I could see hope start to bloom in his eyes. “It’s you, Bren, how could it not mean something?”
“Clark, I…I said, I just want you to be happy…” he said slowly.
“I’ve been up all night thinking about this,” I said, cutting him off. “The truth is Brendon, the only time I’ve been truly happy since my Mom died, was when I was with you.”
“But I hurt you.” He said miserably, looking into his lap, and I saw a couple tears fall onto his jeans. “What I did was unforgivable.”
“No,” I corrected him, putting my hand under his chin and lifting his face up so I could see him properly. “No, Brendon. How many second chances did you give me? From the very beginning, when I was bitch, you still gave me another chance, when I freaked out, when I treated you horribly, when I was childish, when I kept things from you, time, after time, after time, you gave me chance after chance.
“And what you did was awful. It was. But…god, if you can give me so many chances and still want to be with me, then the least I can do is forgive you. The least I can do is give you another chance too. The last thing I never told you about myself is that I don’t forgive easily. I can’t forgive my own father for godssake…but…you…Brendon, I need you. I need you more than anyone else.”
“C-Clark,” he stuttered breathlessly. “But…”
“No, buts.” I said. “I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. And…and I want to be with you…because you’re my other half, Bren. And I love you so much that’s why I was so angry, I realize that now.”
“I love you.” He said simply. “The only thing I want is you.”
I smiled and moved my hand up to his face, pulling him to me. The kiss started off gentle, much more hesitant this time, not fueled by lust, but rather by love. It was like rediscovering him, savoring the fact that we could both see happiness in the future. And this time it wasn’t painful, because this time, I could still feel that irresistible spark between us, and this time, I didn’t feel guilty about it, or confused about it, or hurt by it. I just felt a small but undeniable bubble of happiness from it.
We were starting to get carried away, it always had been a danger with us, when we both seemed to realize this and pulled away, both of us slightly out of breath. He took my hand that was resting on his neck and pressed his lips to the palm, then held it in his own. “We should take this slow,” he said quietly, but his eyes looked alive for the first time since that night. “I don’t want to mess this up, not again.”
I smiled. “I know. I don’t want to mess it up either. So…slow.”
He smiled, and it was a true smile, not the one he put on for public, it was the smile I loved, and lay down on his bed, pulling me with him, so we were on our sides, facing each other, not touching except for our hands. I had a flash of déjà-vu, back when we laid out on my fire escape in New York, spending all night talking.
And that’s what we did, again. After all, we had missed several months of each others’ lives. We needed to get caught up.