Praying for Love and Paying in Naiivety

One and a half years since they’d texted each other.

One year since they had seen each other.

One year since they had spoken.

Half a year since the last time they tweeted or emailed.

And boy is Brendon nervous. Sat in a plush sofa in the private bar-room, sweating, and hands shaking. At every little noise, Brendon looks round over his shoulders, eyes darting nervously from shadow to shadow. The door opens, but it’s only Spencer.

Only Spencer. Well, not really “only” Spencer. It’s a bit more than that now.

Spencer sighs, seeing Brendon’s nervous state, and paces up to him with a smile on his face. He leans down and places a sweet loving kiss on his lips.

“You okay, Bear?” he asks, sitting down beside him and pulling him in at the waist.

“Spin, you know I love you right?” Brendon asks in return, somewhat at random. Spencer sighs again.

“Course I do babe,” he replies.

“And you love me too? Right, Spin?”

“Of course I do, Brendon,” Spencer repeats. He knows why Brendon is so nervous and it’s hard for him to admit, but Brendon misses Ryan. Badly. He misses him so badly that sometimes he doesn’t speak for moments on end – unusual for the usually lively and immature Brendon – and just stares into space. Sometimes he sighs really deeply and just says “Nothing,” when Spencer asks him what’s wrong. Sometimes he mutters in his sleep, and Spencer is ninety-nine percent sure that it’s Ryan’s name. And worst of all, sometimes when Brendon is alone and Spencer enters the room, Brendon looks up quickly and his face falls in disappointment.

It’s the disappointment that’s the hardest to bear of all.

“And, Spin, will you always love me no matter what?”

“No matter what, Brendon, I will always love you. You make my world go round,” Spencer says, sighing for the third time. Under his breath he adds “If only I made yours and not Ryan.”

“What did you say Spin?”

“You heard, I said you make my world go round, Bear,” Spencer says trying to force a smile. He pulls Brendon onto his lap and buries his nose into his neck, inhaling deeply his warm smell that drives Spencer insane.

“No, Spin, after that what did you say?” Brendon asks, pulling away slightly.

“Brendon, I know that you don’t... feel the same as I do. I’m used to it. Please, at least pretend you love me, just tonight. Just until he gets here. Then you can do whatever you like.”

Spencer pushes Brendon off his lap and gets up, walking over to a bar in the corner and pouring himself a Red Bull. He’s just not in the mood for alcohol. The cold sweet liquid burns his dry throat as he looks back at Brendon. Brendon’s face is buried in his hands and he’s shaking his head.

“Well?” Spencer says at last, breaking the sad silence. “Aren’t you going to spin me some more lies?”

“Spencer you know I love you. I do, I really do. I just...”

“Love him more.” Spencer says coldly, finishing Brendon’s sentence for him. A strangled moan escapes Brendon’s lips as he nods minutely.

“You’re always right, Spin. You know me so well. I love you so much, you’re my rock. I’d die without you Spencer. You are everywhere: the clothes I wear and the sheets I sleep in. I couldn’t be in a world where you don’t exist, because I’d just fade away. But, it’s difficult, and you don’t know what I would give for it not to have to be like this. I would give anything; do anything, just to forget Ryan. I wish you could see that.”

“You’re right too Brendon. I am the clothes you wear and the sheets you sleep in. The problem lies in that Ryan is the air you breathe, the food you eat, the photos and the music, the films and the unfamiliar faces in the street. He’s the one looking out of your eyes when you see me and your face falls. It’s true.”

Brendon gulps and walks over to Spencer. “This is so naive,” Spencer whispers as Brendon pulls them close together. “But if it’s all I’m getting, I might as well resign myself.”

The tortured look in Spencer’s eyes wrenches Brendon’s heart in two as the two of them crash their lips together. At first a chaste kiss; it quickly becomes more passionate as Spencer forces Brendon’s lips apart. He fights for dominance but it’s an easy battle, as Brendon caves in straight away and lets the sin, the guilt and the shame wash away. But Spencer is struggling with love, and desperately pushing for every moment of pleasure that he can steal from Brendon. He needs Brendon like he need shots of a drug, and he is going to get it no matter what. It doesn’t matter anymore - because sure, it used to matter – that Brendon wasn’t really kissing back with half as much passion, it just matters that Spencer can taste him and smell him and feel the heat of his body and the softness of his lips and skin and run his hands through his soft hair, pulling him in harder.

Spencer pushes Brendon down onto the sofa and rips Brendon’s shirt off. Brendon lies there submissively, knowing how much he owes Spencer for all of the months of half-hearted affection, savouring the look in Spencer’s startling blue eyes as he feathers his tongue down Brendon’s chest and places a soft light row of kisses along his naval, interspersing the kisses with nibbles and scraping his nails down Brendon’s back and sides.

Just as Brendon starts responding, arching his back into Spencer’s mouth, moaning and panting in a sort of twisted despair, pleading with Spencer stop and then begging him to go further down; trying to release a roaring conflict in his chest between the sweet, deserving, lovely boy that wants to make love to him right now and the dark, damaged boy who he’d loved all of his life that is due any second, there is a knock at the door.

Spencer pulls back quickly and turns away from the door, running his hands through his hair and taking deep breaths in. Brendon pulls on his shirt, fumbling clumsily, hands shaking and palms sweating again. He clears his throat and calls, “Come in.”

Jon opens the door and peaks round, a tentative smile on his face. He knows how Brendon and Ryan are and that they haven’t spoken in a year but he’s different because he knows how Ryan feels as well. Brendon sits down then stands up then sits down and stands up again, suddenly bouncy as a yo-yo with the adrenalin coursing through his veins. Jon laughs, nervous too.

“Alright, Brendon?” he says, going up to him and shaking his hand, slapping him on the back almost as if for luck. “You...haven’t changed.” Brendon laughs and nods, too nervous to speak. Just then Spencer’s tense form catches Jon’s eye; silhouetted against the huge wall of glass at the end of the room that faces out onto the Vegas lights. Jon walks over to exchange niceties as the door reopens.

Brendon stops moving and breathing, and it’s as if the sweat on his skin has just frozen up. Colour rises to his cheeks in a wave of burning from the suddenly intensified heat. Ryan walks into the room slowly, catching Brendon’s eyes the second he’s past the door and holding that gaze until they’re both stood less than a metre apart in absolute silence. Silence so loud, it drowns out the noises outside and the low chattering from the other end of the room.

Ryan looks the same as he always did, to Brendon. His hair is perfect and glittering in the light, his pale skin flawless, tight fitting clothes highlighting his slender figure and making Brendon’s breath come faster. His eyes are perfect orbs of chocolate and his lips pursed delicately over pearly white teeth. His fingers are curling up and loosening, showing a hint of nervousness that his facial expression completely conceals.

In unison, as if Ryan had never left Brendon’s side, they both take in a shaky breath. A look infused with sadness, longing and underlying desire thrills between them, holding and swelling the silence like a body of still, choking water. Suddenly it’s broken by a loud eruption of laughter from Jon and Spencer, and Jon’s on the floor clutching his sides, tears streaming down his face, shouting and laughing loud enough to wake the dead.

“What. The. Fuck,” both Ryan and Brendon say in unison, turning their heads to look at their slightly odd seeming friends. Then they turn back to look at each other, and Brendon giggles nervously. A smile slowly spreads over Ryan’s lips and he steps forward again, just a little. Brendon’s heart picks up another beat but all he can think about is Spencer. He tries to tear his thoughts from his boyfriend and to think about the fact that maybe he should say or do something, like open his mouth and initiate a conversation, but it’s so hard when all he wants to do is apologise to Spencer. He can tell that Spencer’s laughter isn’t genuine: he knows Spencer well enough to know that it’s just a facade so that Jon won’t see how he feels, and, above all, Brendon knows he’s being given another chance with Ryan. And he couldn’t be more grateful for it towards Spencer, which is what is making it all the harder.

“Brendon?” Ryan whispers. His voice is croaky. “Brendon, are you alright?” Brendon looks down the room and catches Spencer’s eye. Spencer gives him a small nod and smile before turning back to Jon. He resigns himself to knowing that Brendon is given over to Ryan: heart, body, mind and soul, and that the two of them will never be the same again. But the last kiss was the best, and it almost – almost – makes it all okay for him. Except that he can almost taste the fact that Brendon is holding himself back from Ryan, and that it’s for him.

There’s just that lingering, poisonous feeling that Brendon’s knees should go to jelly and his palms should sweat because of him, Spencer, but he tries to ignore it, and goes back to playing pretend with Jon. Because it doesn’t matter how many long nights he stayed up with Brendon to help him get over Ryan; it doesn’t matter how many days he pretended not to notice that Brendon was just pining when he said he was sick and nursed over him all day instead; it doesn’t matter how long he devoted himself wholly to that boy and gave him everything – everything – that he possibly could in a vain attempt to win his already captured heart.

Spencer knows what he wants most will never be.

“Ryan,” Brendon gasps. Then suddenly he drops everything: the pretence, the hostility, the weird atmosphere, and throws himself at Ryan, wrapping his arms tightly around him as if he’ll never let go. In the same second Ryan lunges forward and leaps up, wrapping his legs around Brendon’s waist and pressing his face into his hair. He breathes Brendon in deeply, and is overwhelmed almost to tears, realising just how much he missed him.

“Brendon, I love you!” Ryan cries, losing complete control over his words. He hadn’t meant to say that. Brendon pulls back slightly but doesn’t let go of the beautiful boy in his arms. He smiles.

“It’s been so long Ry,” he says softly. “I, have... something to tell you.” He looks over at Spencer and then walks over to the sofa, dropping Ryan down somewhat awkwardly as Ryan now looks hurt and upset. Then he sits on the sofa facing him, and is joined by Spencer, while Jon sits down next to Ryan.

“Spencer and I...” Brendon begins before receiving a sharp and extremely painful nudge in the side from Spencer. He turns to look at him in confusion. “...Spencer?” he asks.

“What Brendon was going to say, was,” Spencer says, stepping in, “That he and I are really sorry but on the night you left the band I caught Brendon getting himself off while moaning your name and I sort of helped him...finish.”

Brendon’s face instantly fills with a hot flush as if what Spencer had said was true, and he turns to look at him so fast he almost gets whiplash. The shock is only evident in his eyes for a second before he nods slowly and turns to face Ryan again, but only after bestowing a grateful smile on Spencer. “Yeah... so we were just hoping that wouldn’t make things... awkward at all, y’know.” Brendon says, playing along, praying it’ll work. And at that, Ryan and Jon both burst into laughter.

“That’s it?” Ryan says, struggling to get words out through his laugher, pealing beautifully in Brendon’s ears like the welcome pattering of rain after a drought. “I thought you were at least going to say you’d murdered someone!”

Brendon laughs too, but only for a second. Then he leaps up and pounces on Ryan. The two of them roll off of the sofa, Brendon pinning Ryan to the floor, and exchange a long-overdue, lust-filled kiss, fingers intertwining in each other’s hair and moaning loudly, sweaty limbs wound about each other and hot bodies moulded together so it is hard to tell where one begins and the other ends.

“I love you, Ryan Ross,” Brendon moans between kisses.

“I love you too, Bear,” Ryan whispers in response, his voice breathy with passion.

Spencer rolls his eyes with Jon, then sighs again and looks up at the ceiling.
He knows he’ll just have to pretend, for Brendon’s sake, but he can do that. Because when you love someone, you’ll do anything to make them happy.

Anything.