Lights

Ryan and Brendon both sat cross-legged on the mattress the next day, facing each other. The TV was on, but quiet in the background. They'd started watching morning cartoons but soon abandoned the idea as Ryan raised the point that they needed to construct their plan. The volume had gone down, but the pictures were still flashing around on screen, distracting neither of them.

“We can't stay here,” Ryan stated, and Brendon nodded along with him in agreement. “So, we need to get out of here as quick as possible. Where the fuck are we gonna go, though?”

“Youth hostel?” Brendon suggested, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. “They're pretty cheap and stuff. I can't account for the quality of the rooms and stuff though, because I never bothered to stay in there.”

“Do you think they'd guess?” Ryan asked, frowning.

Brendon shrugged. “They might. I don't really know, sorry.”

“I wonder if we have any other options. We wouldn't be able to take much stuff, either way.” Ryan frowned and tapped his chin with his middle finger on his right hand as he pondered some sort of solution. He knew he had to just take his time and consider each option carefully, but it was so hard. Even after a few hours of sleep, his heart still started beating rapidly in his chest, absolutely hammering any surrounding flesh and bones, and he couldn't make himself think carefully for the life of him. It wasn't that he wanted to rush off and do something impulsive – it was more like he didn't want to have to consider all these options. He wished he didn't have to think about it. He wanted things to go down and return to normal, but he knew that normal was something he had left behind when he met Brendon.

“Maybe Spencer,” Brendon suggested in a quiet voice.

“I don't know how happy he'll be about that,” Ryan said, “but we could always try. But it'd be fair that he said no, because of Kayla and all that.”

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed. “But it's worth a shot, right? I mean... it's probably the most convenient place. More private. They like you. It's kinda close to here, isn't it? I have no idea where the youth hostel even is.”

Ryan nodded. “That's true, we could ask him.”

“I think we should. I think he'll help us out. Just until we find some other place.”
“But... what if –?”

“I don't get why that would happen,” Brendon said, carefully. “Let's just, try make it happen, all right?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, then slowly nodded. “So, we'll ask him, and if he says no, then we'll find a youth hostel and force our way in there. This has to be done by tonight?”

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “A day is the longest time I can account for, sorry. It could be a long time after now that they come back, but I really don't know. It's kind of unpredictable, you know?”

Ryan let out a dry laugh that didn't sound much like a laugh at all. “I get you.”

Brendon smiled, though it looked strained against his sallow cheeks. Brendon's face had become less gaunt over the past few months that he had been spending at Ryan's, and Ryan assumed it was because of the security he was given. He knew when he was going to eat next, and he knew that he would have a happy house (or apartment, rather) to come home to and enjoy his time. He knew there was a plethora of Disney movies stacked in a cabinet under the television for him to indulge in whenever he wanted to, and he knew that there was a mattress ready to call his name whenever his eyes were drooping. Or even a couch if he felt like shaking it up. And once Brendon didn't have to spend his life running from what he feared so much, he didn't look so sunken and gaunt. His face had some colour to it now, and his eyes were bright and gleaming like they should be. Bright and chocolate brown, crinkling at the edges when he let himself smile big. And Ryan felt that he had managed to give big smiles a lot over the time he had been there, regardless to the cold winter weather setting in, and despite Ryan's own strange personality that he called his own quite happily. He'd never questioned the way he lived before, but now he had to wonder.

“So, either way, we aren't coming back here tonight,” Ryan said.

He glanced around the apartment and realised that, despite the fact that the apartment was completely tiny and one room seemed to blend seamlessly into the next in a way that people didn't usually like, this was his home. This was where he had belonged for the past four years, ever since he had moved from Las Vegas and grabbed life so enthusiastically. This was where he had spent his peaceful nights reading and watching television, and where he knew he could come after work. Even after the very rare occasions he went somewhere with Spencer, it was still there to come home to.

The walls around him were just so familiar, he didn't particularly want to leave them. This place was full of his mess. He was everywhere. And while he didn't want to leave, he knew it was either that or dying, and that was a pretty easy choice. Sentiment couldn't quite come above being able to live to see tomorrow. Being able to see Spencer and Kayla again and keep completely updated on what was occurring within his incredibly small band of friends. This may have been meagre, but it was what he lived for now, and he couldn't find any complaints that he had.

“You're going to miss it,” Brendon stated, and Ryan realised that he had been leaning in to peer at Ryan's face intently as he had drifted off into his own world, thinking blindly. “Aren't you?”

“I guess I am,” Ryan said, but then brushed it off. “It doesn't matter anyway. It's just an apartment. I can find any old apartment in the city. This one isn't even that nice. One bedroom, one kitchen or living room – I have no idea what's what in this place. One bathroom. A freakishly large closet that doesn't really belong with all the other tiny stuff.”

“You'll have to clean up,” Brendon added with a smirk on his lips. “I'm sure we'll have lots of fun doing that.”

“Oh, you bet we will, because you're going to have to help me.”

“I guess that's fair enough, what with this being my fault and all.”

Ryan shrugged. “It's not your fault your old friends are complete psychopaths with no sympathy or anything. They don't make any sense to me. But that's all right, because I guess they don't have to anyway.”

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed. “So, we're going to do this.”

“We're going to do this.”

Brendon frowned, and glanced up at Ryan with a rather apologetic look on his face.

“What is it?” Ryan sighed.

“Well... maybe just you should go to Spencer's,” Brendon said, his voice sounding hesitant. He knew what reaction he could get from this. Ryan took in a deep breath, but waited patiently for Brendon to finish. “Maybe it'll be better that way. I'll go somewhere else. That way, they won't find you. And if they do, you won't know where I am. And it may actually work out, you know... Reasonable.”

“I don't get why you think I'd willingly let you go running off to get killed,” Ryan said. “Do you have any common sense what-so-ever?”

“Apparently not,” Brendon replied. “But, I think maybe you're the one with no common sense, Ry.”

“Pfft. The one who wants you to stay alive? I don't think so.”

Brendon rolled his eyes and tried to smother away a smile that was coming up at an inopportune moment. He wiped it away and put on a more serious face. “See, I don't quite see it that way. It's more like, if I stay with you long enough, we're both going to die. I think it would be better if only one of us did.”

“Neither of us are going to die.” Ryan's voice was firm, and his eyebrows were climbing up his forehead. “Quit being so damn pessimistic.”

“Well, if we both die, then we'll know who was right,” Brendon snapped.

“Right, if,” Ryan said. “Giving us some sort of option. Meaning there is a perfectly possible chance we won't die. Now, we shouldn't waste much more time. Let's start packing.”

Brendon reluctantly climbed to his feet, cringing slightly at the way his ribs bent as he did so. Even if this time apparently wasn't as bad, Ryan was still concerned – there could be no such thing as a beating that left the person healthy and with nothing to worry about. This can't have been good, but he had no idea how to fix it. Brendon was against the idea of any sort of assistance outside their own circle.

The pair started packing all the things they absolutely needed. Clothes came first, and they carefully folded the articles of clothing to ensure they would fit in the two camping bags that Ryan had managed to dig up from the over-large closet that he had mentioned earlier. Apparently, there was a lot of things in there that they never got to investigate, and Ryan had gazed at it forlornly before closing the door, the piles of who-knows-what lurking on the closet floor, never to be looked at again.

Brendon had less clothes than Ryan, and most of them were just hand-me-downs that Ryan had never thought to throw out again. There were Brendon's original clothes, with noticeable rips and tears in them, but he insisted on packing them as well, claiming he didn't want to run out while at Spencer's and borrow some of Kayla's clothes. Ryan wasn't sure when this would ever happen, but he allowed it regardless. A few items had been bought by Brendon at a cheap store they had managed to find.

Once the clothes were folded nicely, taking up a little more room than Ryan had hoped in his own bag, he glanced up at Brendon with a frown.

“What else do we need?”

“Just... stuff. I guess it depends on whether we're going to Spencer's or the youth hostel.”
Ryan nodded. “I think I'll drop by Lights and ask him.”

“Wait, wait.” Brendon stuck his hand out and shook his head as Ryan paused to stare in confusion. “You obviously don't know what it takes to stay home from work.”

“What?”

“They'll see you, and know you should be working,” Brendon stated. “Does that not sound like an incredibly stupid idea to you?”

“Well, what would you know, you do have common sense after all,” Ryan commented with a smirk.

“Yeah. I don't know where yours went, olden-timer,” Brendon shot back. “Gone with your memory, I suppose?”

“You're an absolute riot,” Ryan said, dryly. “So, what are we going to do if I can't go and ask Spencer? He won't be home until later, we'll run out of time before it's dark.”

“I'll go ask Spencer,” Brendon suggested. “I don't work there, after all.”

Ryan's face dropped. “You absolutely cannot be serious.”

Brendon raised an eyebrow. “And why exactly can't I be?”

“There is a gang of people out on the streets of New York right this very second who want you dead,” Ryan pointed out. “They just came in here and threatened you last night, remember? You had one of the luckiest escapes in the world?”

“And?”

“And you want to go out on your own into the place where we pretty much know they are?”

“New York's a big place. They won't stay by your apartment, they'll live it for a little while,” Brendon said.

“How can I tell you're serious?”

Brendon raised an eyebrow. “Why would I not be? You're very questioning of my level of seriousness all of a sudden, it's kind of strange.”

“What if you're pulling one of your fucked up 'you don't deserve this' things? Where you go and act all suicidal and try to leave me?”

“Thanks for putting the idea in my head,” Brendon said with a smirk, “but that wasn't the plan. I don't go behind backs.”

“What, they taught you that there or something?”

“Yes, they're not complete animals, Ry,” Brendon snapped. “So just shut up. I'll go talk to Spencer. I'll be back later. You keep packing. Pack whatever you think you'll need. Look around and see what you can't live without.”

Ryan followed Brendon as he quickly crossed the bedroom and living room. Ryan's mouth fell open as he tried to think of some sort of argument to get Brendon to stay, but nothing appeared in his mind. Brendon was already opening the door and walking through the doorway.

Brendon turned to peek back inside. “And for God's sake, Ry,” he added. “Don't forget your tooth brush.”

And then he was gone.

*

Ryan tried to rid himself of worry by resuming his packing. He grabbed his tooth brush and tooth paste first, just because his mind was whirring and he couldn't think of anything else. Then he started doing a raid of the bathroom. He searched through the medicine cabinet, realising he didn't take any medicine. He grabbed his hairspray, then looked blankly around the little white room, down at the small, wrinkled red rug, then hesitantly stepped out of it again into the living room.

He started picking up his cds and organising them into piles on the kitchen counter. He made a small pile of ones he really wanted. It was just The Beatles. He didn't really listen to CDs at all anyway, but he felt like he needed to bring something at least a little useless.

He also packed the analogue clock that usually sat against the wall on his kitchen counter. He wasn't sure why.

He decided his Disney videos probably weren't needed in his new house, so he resigned to never seeing them again. They were moving out. He was giving up the apartment. He had no idea where all this shit was going to go after he was gone. Maybe they'd let him just give it to the next people for free.

That was stupid.

He had no clue how this worked.

Brendon returned a little while later, and Ryan breathed out an audible sigh of relief and tried to resist running up and hugging the younger man.

“What'd he say?” Ryan asked in a stilted tone.

“We're free to stay,” Brendon replied. “Kayla's at home, she knows. We can go over there as soon as we like, or as late as we like. He doesn't mind.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Guess you're good at making generous friends, too,” Brendon said with a smirk. “I hit some sort of twisted jackpot here. Fuck me, wish I didn't.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“That came out wrong.”

“Only a little bit,” Ryan responded, grinning. “I get you, don't worry.”

“How's packing going?” Brendon questioned, peering over Ryan's shoulder at the duffel bag on the bed.

Ryan shrugged, also glancing at the bag. “It's okay. You want to bring anything else?”

“What else would I need?” Brendon asked, before approaching the bed and starting to rifle through Ryan's bag, trying not to disrupt the order that rarely occurred in this apartment too much. “Hey, wait a second. There's no Alice in Wonderland in here. And dude – I totally saw loads of book still on the floor of the apartment. Don't you want any of them?”

“Do you want any of them? I may as well leave them here.”

“You must really like at least one of those books.” Brendon bent down and picked one up off a messy stack by Ryan's bedside table. “Hey, Harry Potter. You can't forget these, can you?”

Ryan arched an eyebrow, looking at Brendon oddly.

“Come on, Ry. Everyone knows this is pretty much the best series in the world.”

“Which is why Spencer will probably have his own set of Harry Potter books if we ever feel like reading them.” Ryan delicately grabbed the book from between Brendon's fingers, and bent down to place it back on the pile.

“I'm sure you have some mighty fine classics in this place,” Brendon went on. “You know. Like... Shakespeare or something. Or that Dick dude!”

“– Dick dude?” Ryan repeated in confusion.

“You know. Everyone talks about him. I think he wrote like... I dunno. Did he write that book with the homeless kid? The one who's all 'Can I have some more?'” Brendon stuck out his hands and made his eyes sad as he fake-begged.

“What – Oliver Twist? You mean Charles Dickens?”

“That's the one!” Brendon cheered, brandishing his finger as if a light bulb had just gone off above his head. “See, you even know him by name. Don't you have some of his books? Classic ones? Special ones? Ones that make you seem all totally intelligent when other people see you read them?”

“I-I have no clue,” Ryan replied, blinking rapidly. “I don't generally go sit by other people and read books obviously so I look smart.”

“Guess it was a high school thing,” Brendon said, shrugging. “I know loads of chicks who used to do it.”

“Did you now?”

“Yep, they tried to look like one of those smart, hot nerdy girls that the guys always end up going out with in chick flicks,” Brendon said, knowingly.

“Because you've seen so many,” Ryan mocked.

“I was pulled into those things a lot as a teenager,” Brendon sighed, shaking his head. “Be glad that your odd, anti-social behaviour would have ensured that no girl forced you to watch Ten Things I Hate About You with them.”

“Watch it,” Ryan warned.

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot you were so sensitive about blatantly obvious facts like that.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Anyway, back to you and the chick flicks?”

Brendon wandered out into the living room as he started speaking again, and Ryan followed him, looking slightly suspicious.

“Well, yeah. They'd sit with their Jane What's-Her-Face books up to their noses so that everyone else could read the cover and go, shit, that girl is smart.”

“Jane Austen?”

“That's the one, I think. Or maybe it was Aniston...”

“Jennifer Aniston is an actor, Brendon.”

“Then yeah,” Brendon said, pausing as he stood over the mattress he had been sleeping on over the past two or so months. “It was Jane Austen.”

“Did it work?” Ryan asked.

“I guess it did on the people who actually knew who the authors were. This one chick tried it on me, though. She sat next to me and pushed her glasses up her nose and everything. You know those glasses everyone's wearing these days? Dorky-but-cute?”

Ryan shook his head.

“Well... yeah, those ones. And then she, like, pulled up the book she was reading, and of course I didn't particularly care. Then she turns to me and goes, 'Do you like Homer?'”

Ryan snorted.

“Exactly,” Brendon said, with a grin. “So I was like, 'Homer Simpson? Fuck, love to hate that guy.' And she just sort of stared at me, and I could tell her glasses didn't even have that magnifying shit in them. Hell, I bet I could see through them.”

Ryan couldn't resist smiling.

“And she was all, 'No, Homer. He wrote this. He was like, this totally awesome Roman or Greek or whatever the fuck happened in the old days guy who wrote stuff.' Well, that wasn't really what she said, but fucked if I'm going to remember who Homer was.”

“He wrote the Iliad,” Ryan offered.

“Oh yeah, that's what she was reading!” Brendon said. “So anyway, I just stared at her, because that is a really weird word. And it was really fucking awkward. Then she walked off saying something about not wanting to date a dumb shit anyway.”

“Woah, ouch,” Ryan said, cringing.

Brendon merely shrugged in response. “Like I'd want some chick who has to wear fake glasses anyway. She was pretty hot though.”

Brendon kneeled down and opened up the cabinet under the TV, then started sorting through the videos, sticking his tongue out as he did so. “We're going to need The Lion King, I reckon,” he said, pulling the video out and placing it beside his foot. “Alice in Wonderland, of course. Not Aladdin, I reckon, or Dumbo. I can't watch a video that insults an elephant every time his name is mentioned, it's just rude.”

Ryan chuckled and sat down beside Brendon, assisting in scanning through the videos.

“No Snow White,” Ryan added.

“Eh, why not? She's so colourful. White as snow and red as whatever's red and all that.”

“The dwarves freak me out,” Ryan admitted. “I haven't watched it in years.”

Brendon just nodded and kept running his finger across the spines. They made a collection of a few videos.

“I think we have enough space to bring these,” Brendon said, picking them up.

“I guess so.”

“Cheer up, Ry. We can have a movie night there if we really want to.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Glad you're looking on the bright side of things.”

“No other side to look on that doesn't make you want to slam yourself into the street and wait to get run over by a car.” Brendon's tone was surprisingly cheery for the dark theme, and Ryan just decided to shrug it off without a word.

“So, we're allowed over there whenever we want?” Ryan asked, instead.

“That's what he said. He text Kayla while I was there and everything, and we even waited for her reply before I left. She said cool, apparently. I think she said more, but he wouldn't show me and practically attacked me when I tried to take his phone.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Sometimes you can be a little forward, Bren.”

“Sometimes you can be a little behind, Ryan.”

“Shut up.”

“Don't dish it if you can't take it. Now, do we need anything else?”

They racked their brains and glanced around the apartment, before deciding they had everything they needed. So they put the mattress back on the bed, and Brendon almost got squished beneath it as they tried to push it back through Ryan's bedroom doorway. Ryan hadn't been quite that amused in a while.

“So... now we go?” Ryan asked.

“I guess so.”

“I guess you've left a lot of places like this,” Ryan pointed out.

“Not really,” Brendon said, shrugging. “Just home – you left home too. And then the warehouse. And I guess, technically, that bus bench I slept on for a night or two. And now this.”

“Did it hurt leaving the warehouse?”

“Yeah. Even though I knew I had to or I'd die, it's weird leaving a place you've called home for so long. I know it wasn't a very homely place or anything.” Brendon frowned. “It was all concrete and grey and stuff.”

“Oh.” Ryan nodded slowly.

“Guess we both have to leave places we loved now, and both because of me.”

“Don't do that, Bren. Come on. Let's go.” Ryan bent down and picked up the large bag. Brendon followed suit, and they both crossed the linoleum floor, their shoes clacking against it in a way that almost caused Ryan physical pain.

This was the last time they were ever going to do this – or, maybe more importantly, the last time he was going to do this. The last time he was going to walk out of his home of four years. He just hung his head and followed Brendon out of the doorway. He closed it and locked it behind him.

And that was that.

*

Brendon started thumping his fist against the apartment's green door. “Kayla!” he shouted, so his mouth was just inches from the door's surface. “We've come to take you hostage! Let us in, or we'll go and find Spencer instead!”

The door slowly swung open, and Kayla stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and her thin eyebrows arched. Her face seemed to represent a combination of amusement and annoyance.

“'Atta girl,” Brendon said with a grin, picking up his camping bag again. “We come bearing hostage gifts. Lots of Disney movies, eh, Ryan?”

Ryan quickly nodded in agreement.

“I suppose I can let you through, then,” Kayla said, stepping away from the entrance. “We have a spare room, lucky for you two kids.”

“Not a kid,” Brendon mumbled through clenched teeth before sticking his chest out and marching inside the apartment. Ryan skittered in behind him, glancing at Kayla with a clueless shrug. She just rolled her eyes, closed the door, and walked behind the both of them with what seemed to be some reluctance.

“Isn't this perfect?” Brendon sighed, looking around the living room they had just walked into. It was slightly larger than Ryan's apartment, and had an extra room, instantly making it more expensive. “Now I finally get everything I want. A little more room, to carry all my shit in a duffel bag, and to see if Kayla really is the annoying princess worthy of Spencer that she has lead us to believe in the past.”

“Watch it, Brendon,” Kayla threatened, a wolfish smile on her lips. “I can convince Spencer to kick you out at any time.”

“I hate girls sometimes,” Brendon sighed. “They can get everything with sex.”

Ryan's eyes widened slightly, but he stayed quiet, on the fringes of the conversation.

Kayla glanced at him. “Ryan, you look like you're about to explode.”

“He's just socially awkward, don't mind him,” Brendon said with a shrug. “You get used to it.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. He didn't usually talk to Kayla when they met up, he was still getting used to her. He mostly talked to Brendon and Spencer, with the occasional shy word in her direction. Brendon barely knew her, but didn't mind tossing around insults with her. He felt they were both in some sort of not-socially-awkward club that he wasn't a part of. At least when he was only with Brendon, the younger boy knew how to handle him.

“Well, okay. We'll see if you can survive in this house then, eh, Ry?” Kayla said with a smirk on her lips. “A house full of people. Sound like enough of a challenge for you.”

“I-I guess,” Ryan stammered back at her, unsure of how to respond to this.

“Don't scare him,” Brendon sighed. “He's not that bad once you get used to him.”

“Wait – that bad?” Ryan snapped as he turned to Brendon.

“See?” Brendon said. “He functions totally normally once you annoy him long enough. And, my dear, I'm sure you'll manage to get on his nerves mighty quickly, I bet you're a pro at that.”

“Don't forget my earlier threat,” Kayla said, pointing a finger at Brendon accusingly. “I will kick you out, I swear.”

“Fine, fine. Note to self: no condescending comments, got it.” Brendon saluted her with an eye roll. “I'm sure I could convince Spencer to let us move back in, anyway.”

“I'm his girlfriend, he has to listen to me or else he isn't getting any,” Kayla said with a grin, walking past Brendon to collapse down in an armchair. She crossed her legs and smirked back up at the both of them.

She always seemed to have a grin on her face, and her eyebrows were usually quirked in a way that seemed to show that she knew something you didn't. It could be rather intimidating, like she was looking into Ryan's brain and seeing just how nervous he really was and using it to her absolute advantage. He was positive that she was perfectly capable of this. She had already been doing it for the two minutes he had been lingering, unsurely, in her apartment.

“Oh, please,” Brendon snorted. “I know of a thousand strip clubs in this place.”

“I can't be replaced by a strip club.”

“You can if they give lap-dances,” Brendon shot back.

“Fuck no.”

“I'm sure I know some prostitutes as well.”

“Shut up, you sick fucker,” Kayla snapped. She was still grinning. She was enjoying it, and Ryan had to look at them both confusedly before sighing in a resigned sort of way and walking over to the couch between the both of them and sitting down. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his feet up onto the seat, and proceeded to watch the both of them.

“You know it's true,” Brendon said in a mocking tone. “That's why you're swearing – you know you're losing.”

“Not losing,” she replied. “I just know where to stop. And trust me, you should have stopped way back before strip clubs. That's just not classy any more. I win.”

“You can't just announce you win. That makes you automatically lose,” Brendon said. “So there. Loser.”

“You're the loser.”

“I'm obviously not,” Brendon said with a grin, striking a model-like pose with his hand on his hip, and his elbow bent so that the other hand was behind his air. “I'm obviously a winner.”

“Maybe you should quit while you're behind.”

“Now, what's the point in that?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I think that I'm hungry and I want some food.” She clicked twice, her hand extended as she looked at Brendon. “Go, slave, fetch me some chips.”

“I'm not a slave,” Brendon gasped, offended.

“Then get out of my apartment.”

“Spencer's apartment,” Brendon corrected. “Haw haw, you can't even kick us out until he gets home. How do you like that?”

Ryan just kept watching the exchange, still quite confused. But at least the couch was extremely comfy, and while the television wasn't on, he could see it from where he was sitting. It was bigger than the one he had at home, and he could guarantee that it would get better reception. Hell, maybe it even had cable? That would be pretty amazing.

“Man, you're a smart guy, Ryan,” Brendon said with a grin, suddenly turning to the couch and throwing himself down beside him.

Ryan just stared at him, blinking. “I am?”

“Yeah. I should have faked some sort of social awkwardness too, then I could get out of talking to her.”

“Maybe you shouldn't have started in the first place,” Ryan pointed out.

Brendon immediately broke into laughter that he hurriedly hid behind his fingers.

“Oh man,” Kayla sighed. “Two guys in my apartment out to get me.”

“Spencer's apartment.”

“Oh, shut up, would you? It's an equal ownership thing now.”

“You're not married, don't give me that bullshit,” Brendon laughed. “Nice try, though.”

Kayla just shrugged. “Well, it was worth a shot, I suppose. I thought you'd be stupid enough to fall for that one.”

Brendon frowned. “I'm smarter than I look.”

“Good God, I hope so.”

Brendon's face fell even further. “Why did we want to stay here again, Ryan?”

“You insisted,” Ryan said, grinning.

This time Kayla started laughing. “Fuck, that's right! You wanted to come here and do this, eh, Bren? I knew you loved me.”

“Aw, I really do.”

Ryan continued to stare at them.

He really should have gotten more adjusted to Kayla before choosing to live with her.

“Hey, Ry,” she said, leaning over in her seat slightly to catch his eye. “Your eyes are just about popping out of your head. Do you ever not look amazed?”

“I – yes.”

“It's just because you're in a room with me, isn't it?”

“It is,” Brendon agreed, with a curt nod. “He can't stop staring at how odd you look. I mean, fuck, what is up with your hair? Like, actually. Did you comb it backwards today or something?”

“That's exactly what I did,” Kayla replied, grinning. “It's called back combing. Pretty aptly named, don't you think? And wow. Thanks for noticing.”

“Shit, are you serious?” Brendon leaned forward to peer intently at Kayla's hair with his eyebrows climbing up his forehead suspiciously as he did so. “So, you like, meant to do that?”

“It's the style these days,” she commented, running her fingers through the strands hanging around her shoulders and then pushing the hair on the top of her head up a bit. “It' just how it's done. Please don't tell me you don't care about the style, look at your hair.”

“Look at my hair?” Brendon repeated, blankly. “I haven't done anything to my hair. Fuck, look at Ryan's hair!”

“What'd I do?” Ryan asked, clamping his hands over his hair protectively.

“He uses gel or hairspray, or some shit,” Brendon replied, nodding his head as if he was about to follow this sentence with the words, “True facts.”

“It doesn't look like it.”

“Well, he hasn't today,” Brendon said, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Dude, he just moved out of his own house and abandoned a really nice, rather comfy couch. You wouldn't have done your little back combing shit either if you'd been through that.”

“Oh yeah, what do you do, Ryan?” Kayla asked.

“He puts it into a faux-hawk,” Brendon replied, knowingly.

“Oh, right.” Kayla leaned back to inspect him. “Is that all you wear?”

“What –?”

“Your clothes,” Brendon sighed. “She's insulting your clothes.”

“What's wrong with my clothes?” Ryan asked.

“Nothing,” Kayla said, quickly. “They're just a little bland. You should shake it up, you'd be able to pull off something a lot bolder than that really well.”

“Bold?” Brendon laughed. “Did you miss the explanation I gave you earlier?”

Ryan quickly interrupted the pair of them to ask, “When is Spencer getting home?”

“Ten minutes.”

Brendon let out a loud groan and shoved himself down even further into the cushions of the couch. “Why does that man have to work so damn much?”

“We work similar hours at Lights,” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but when you're gone, I'm not stuck at home with her.” Brendon motioned to Kayla with his head.

“Well, you'd better hope she works often then,” Ryan said, “because you're staying here for a while too.”

“Ryan, you are so not fair,” Brendon sighed.

“He's right,” Kayla said with a shrug. “You look mighty fucked up. What even happened to you?”

Brendon didn't reply, but instead stared moodily across the room. “I don't want to stay home.”

“Too bad,” Ryan replied, breezily. “You've managed it before. Come on, you even brought lots of Disney movies to watch.”

Kayla quickly tried to stifle a giggle.

“Anyone can watch Disney movies,” Brendon shot at her. “They're for all ages.”

“I know,” Kayla replied. “It's just you're trying to pretend you're all manly, but you're going to spend your time off watching Disney movies. That's just... it's funny, all right?”

“It's not funny,” Brendon snapped. “I bet you'd watch them too if you had a day off!”

“Unluckily, I had to spend my day off here with you.”

Brendon stuck his nose in the air. “See, Ryan? She's abusive. We may have to rethink whether or not she really suits Spencer. He may be better off without her.”

Kayla rolled her eyes once again and pulled her feet up over the side of the arm chair so she was almost lying in it. “Well, I think Ryan would be better off without you. He could probably find some nice girl and settle down – if he tried that now, you'd probably scare her off.”

“I'd be very inviting, thank you very much,” Brendon said.

“Yeah. While you peer at her and try to decide whether she's 'worthy',” Kayla laughed. “You're like his mother or something. Or maybe he's like your mother, I can't tell yet.”

“Neither of us are girls,” Ryan pointed out.

“Not the point,” Kayla replied, shrugging her shoulders and flopping down further in her seat. “Spencer better pick up the pace.”

“What's going to change once he gets home?” Ryan asked.

“We won't have to put up with her,” Brendon said. “Hopefully Spencer will lock her in a closet and we'll be able to enjoy a nice night at home.”

Kayla poked her tongue out. “What will happen is we will have dinner,” she corrected. “Spencer's a good cook, but I'm not so much.”

“Dinner?” Brendon perked up a bit and glanced at her. “What's for dinner?”

“Dunno, really. Um, I think there's some left over lasagne in the fridge, actually. Okay, so, it's not a gourmet meal, but still.”

“Wait, wait – so we're not having noodles? Or like... toast or something? We're having a nice, wholesome family meal?”

“If that's what you'd call lasagne,” Kayla said, “then yes. We're having a nice, wholesome family meal, and there is so many things wrong with that considering none of us are actually family.”

Brendon shrugged, and a smile appeared on his face. “Did you hear that, Ry?” he asked, turning to Ryan with that grin. “They have like, non-snack food here. We'll be able to co-exist pretty well, I reckon. Spencer will make us food that has like, meat and vegetables and stuff in it, and you can treat everyone to your famous hot chocolate.”

“Famous hot chocolate?” Kayla asked.

“Oh yeah,” Brendon said. “Ryan is like, a hot chocolate pro. It's pretty amazing. Like... chocolatey heaven.”

“But what, you guys never used to make any actual... food?”

“Money was tight,” Ryan said in an almost apologetic tone. “So, we didn't exactly get to feast on delicacies or anything.”

“Noodles are fine,” Brendon said with a shrug. “But, I'm still quite looking forward to this lasagne. Surely it can't be that hard to just heat it up?” He looked at Kayla with his eyebrows raised and his lips forming a hopeful smile.

“Oh, God no,” she said, shaking her head. “Trust me, I think Spencer may dump me some time for my total lack of cooking skills, it's horrible. I'm glad I'm not going to be some domestic house-wife or something. I can burn anything and everything. I can't even pull toast off right.”

“Wow, you have got it bad,” Brendon said, almost sympathetically. “But look at that, our Spence is the woman of the house.” Brendon elbowed Ryan in the ribs with a smirk.

“Ow,” Ryan mumbled, rubbing his side. “Watch it, your elbows are kind of pointy.”

“That's the idea. Aren't you looking forward to the food?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”

Brendon grinned and started peering intently at the door. “Come on!” he begged. “Open! Spencer, come on home, we need some food up in here.”

“God,” Kayla said, her eyes widening. “You guys really must have been eating crap before if you're this exciting for freaking lasagne that's been in the fridge all day.”

“One day old, two day old, fresh, what's the difference?” Brendon said with a shrug. “Point is, it's food, and I want some.” Brendon's stomach rumbled right on cue, and he patted it with the flat of his palm. “Spencer will be home soon,” he told it. “You'll just have to wait a little while.”

Kayla stared at him, edging away from him as much as she possibly could in her chair.

Brendon returned to looking at the door so intently, it was as if he was trying to perform some sort of magic trick to get it to open.

Eventually, it worked.

The door was pushed open and Spencer appeared in the doorway, looking rather surprised when he realised that Brendon was staring at him, now looking extremely excited.

“Spencer!” Brendon yelled, leaping up and rushing toward the door with a huge grin on his face.

“I – hi, Brendon,” Spencer greeted in confusion. “I didn't quite expect that welcome.”

“I hear you make dinner in this place,” Brendon said, raising his eyebrows and pointing at the fridge. “Can I ask when that's going to happen?”

“Oh, right.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “So it's not like you're happy to see me or anything. I'll get making it in a minute, all right?”

“All right!” Brendon replied, bopping up and down on the spot. “Did I mention you're awesome lately?”

“No. And I expect to hear it more.”

Spencer crossed the living room to greet Kayla with a light kiss before disappearing into one of the bedrooms that lead off the room.

“This is going to be the best stay ever,” Brendon sighed, dreamily.