All Good Things.

It’s late. Or maybe it’s early. It’s dark, the only light coming from outside, sneaking in through tiny gaps in the curtains. The bed is large and occupied by one person. One person and a cat. The cat is on the chest of her owner, purring loudly as her owner scratches her ear.

He looks at the clock. 3:47. It could be late or it could be early, depending on who’s judging. A few years ago, he probably would have considered it late, and he might be thinking about going to bed soon. But now, now it’s early. He has to get up in a little more than an hour and he should be asleep now, but the empty space next to him in the large bed is distracting him. He should be used to this. He should be, but he’s not.

There’s noise outside, but there’s always noise outside. He’s used to that and he’s learned to just tune it out. He’s been living in New York City for four years now and he’s been in this particularly large apartment for two years. He’s very fond of his apartment. He just wishes that he didn’t have to spend so much time alone in it.

He turns onto his side. His cat meows angrily and trots away, hopping onto the floor and out of the bedroom. He’s never been a cat person in his life, but he really, really loves that cat.

He’s awake when his alarm goes off, but he still doesn’t get up and out of bed right away. The coffee pot in the kitchen is set on a timer and he hears it begin to brew his necessary morning drink, and it’s not until the scent of it reaches him that he finally slides out from under the blankets.

He’s in the kitchen, pouring milk into his coffee when the sound of the front door being unlocked cuts through the silence. He leans backwards, away from the kitchen counter so that he can peer down the hallway towards the door, and he watches as it opens and the person that he’s been waiting for all night comes in. He can tell that he looks exhausted, even thought it’s too dark and he’s still too far away to see the details of his face. But he comes closer, into the kitchen, and he’s holding a brown paper bag that he sets down on the table.

“I figured you’d be awake already. I brought you a bagel from that place you like,” he tells him, voice soft.

“Thanks,” he smiles, taking a sip of his coffee. “I missed you last night.”

“I’m sorry. I got held up.”

“It’s okay. What time do you have to go back?”

“Four.”

“You should sleep.”

“I will. I wanted to see you first, though.”

He smiles, crossing the kitchen to give his boyfriend a kiss, placing a hand on his shoulder and perching up on his toes to reach him. He lingers, twisting a lock of dark hair between his fingers, and then he steps away.

“I need to get ready for work. Sleep.”

“Okay,” he gives in. “Love you.”

“You too.”

He watches as he walks out of the kitchen, turning down the hall towards their bedroom when he remembers something not entirely important at the moment, but with their work schedules reducing their interaction to early-morning run-ins and bagel exchanges and not much more, he figures that now is the best time.

“Hey, Marcus?” he calls out. “Do you know yet if you’ll be able to make it to Nevada this weekend? Jon needs to know for the caterers.”

“Is that this weekend?” he asks, and he’s back in the kitchen, this time without a shirt.

“Yeah. I’ve been reminding you for weeks.”

“Right, right. I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Brendon.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I would if I could.”

“I know,” he nods, hiding his disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and then swoops in to give Brendon a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna sleep. Goodnight. Or, well, morning? Whatever.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you…whenever I see you again.”

Silence falls over the kitchen again and Brendon sits down at the table, pulling the bag with his bagel in it towards him. He can’t remember the last full conversation he had with his boyfriend, but at least he’s thoughtful enough to bring him breakfast when he’s been working all night. He can’t really be upset. He knows that it’s not his fault, and even if it was, he would still feel bad about complaining.

He glances at the clock. He has to leave for work soon. He needs to get ready.

*

“Shakespeare,” Brendon announces, and he looks out at his audience, most of them looking less than captivated, a few heads resting on desks only a few minutes after class has even started. It’s understandable, though, because it’s only second period and it’s way too early to even be awake, let alone up, functioning, and learning about Shakespeare.

“You guys are required to read Romeo and Juliet this year, so we’ll get to that, but not until next week. I’m not that big of a fan of Romeo and Juliet and if it wasn’t required, I probably wouldn’t make you guys read it, but it is, so you will. But first, we’re going to look at another Shakespearean play that I like more than Romeo and Juliet. A Midsummer Night’s Dream starts on page six-forty-two in your textbooks,” he says, taking a moment to jot the page number onto the whiteboard at the front of the classroom.

“Do we have to read this whole thing?” a girl in the second row of desks asks, a bunch of pages from the textbook pinched between her fingers.

“Yes,” Brendon says, and there’s a collective grumble from the class. “Hey, now, don’t get all grumpy on me yet. I’m going out of town on Thursday and I won’t be back until next Tuesday, so you’ll have a substitute for a few days, and while I’m gone, you’ll be watching a movie version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Yes!”

“But if you guys don’t plan on actually reading the play, I strongly suggest that you pay attention to the movie, because there will be a quiz when I get back,” he tells him, and there’s another collective groan.

“Where are you going?” a boy in the back asks. Brendon enjoys being one of the more laid-back teachers in the high school and he’s used to his students speaking without raising their hands or asking questions that might be personal.

“My oldest and dearest friend is getting married, so I’m going to Nevada to be the best man in his wedding,” he shares.

“Nevada? Are you going to be in Las Vegas? Is there going to be a bachelor party with Vegas strippers?” the same boy asks and about half of the class laughs while Brendon raises his eyebrows.

“Well, that’s inappropriate,” he states. “Let’s get back to Shakespeare, shall we?”

*

Brendon eats his lunch in the teacher’s lounge at the same table every day with the same person every day. Nikki teaches history in the classroom across the hall from Brendon’s English classroom. They both started working at the school the same year, so it was only natural that they stuck together. She sits down at their normal table, across from Brendon and tilts her head to one side.

“You look unhappy,” he says.

“I’m not unhappy,” he replies with a shrug, pushing the contents of his salad around with his fork.

“Is it Marcus? Did he do something stupid again?” she asks.

“No. Well, sort of. I mean, it’s whatever. I was just hoping that he would come to Jon’s wedding with me and yeah, I’m just a little disappointed, that’s all,” he explains.

“He’s not going with you? But why? He works so much, I’m sure he could have gotten days off if he’d tried. I swear, my brother can be such an idiot sometimes,” Nikki rolls her eyes. “I’m going to have to talk to him.”

“No, don’t,” Brendon shakes his head.

“Why not? He already knows that you talk to me about him. It’s not your fault that your best friend just so happens to be your boyfriend’s sister,” she laughs.

“No, it’s not that,” he says, smiling. “It’s just that I told him that it was okay. And, I mean, it is okay. It’s fine. I just wanted to spend some time with him.”

“He spends way too much time at that damn hospital.”

“I know,” Brendon agrees with a nod. “But it’s not like I can really complain about it.”

“Sure you can.”

“Not without feeling selfish. I mean, he is literally saving people’s lives. Complaining about him never being home because he’s busy saving lives just makes me an asshole,” Brendon says, and Nikki shrugs.

“Or it just means that you’d like to spend more time with your boyfriend, which just makes you a good boyfriend and not an asshole.”

“Perhaps,” he sighs.

“Besides, it isn’t like this has never happened before. It’s just a rough patch. You guys will be good again before you know it,” she assures him.

“Yeah, I know,” he smiles.

*

He takes the subway home from work. He remembers his first time on a crowded subway the first week he lived in Manhattan, when he couldn’t find a seat or even an available pole or railing to hold onto, and the sudden jolt of the train bursting into motion made him stumble into the person next to him who gave him a dirty look, and he nearly cried from feeling so overwhelmed in a new place. But that was years ago, before he became a New Yorker himself, before crowded subways were a normal occurrence, before he got used to bracing himself against the sudden jolt.

It’s funny, because he never really saw himself ending up in New York City. He had never really even though about living in New York City. It all just sort of happened. But now it feels like home. He can’t imagine himself anywhere else.

His apartment building is in the upper east side of Manhattan. When he first moved to the city, he lived in the lower east side, which was charming and quaint. The upper east side doesn’t have the same charm as the lower east side. It’s a different kind of charm. But he likes it there. He can walk to Central Park, which he does quite often on the weekends when the weather is nice and Marcus is working. He’ll bring papers to grade or a book to read and he’ll sit on a bench or in the grass, listening to whatever music the closest street performer is playing.

Times Square is a just a short subway ride away, or a moderately distanced walk if it isn’t too cold or too hot outside. He still hasn’t gotten tired of the bright lights and crowds of people. No matter how many times he’s seen it, he’s still in awe at the fact that this is the place that he calls home.

His mom came to visit him once, about a year after he moved there. He took her to the top of the Rockefeller Center because he insisted that it was better than the top of the Empire State Building. He knew that she didn’t exactly approve of his reasoning for moving to New York City in the first place, but after she came to visit, after she saw how absolutely infatuated he was with the city, she told him that she was proud of him.

He goes home to his cat. Marcus is already gone again, so the apartment is empty, except for Sheila. They got Sheila on accident. Marcus’s niece had a cat that got pregnant and had three kittens. Brendon and Marcus went over to Marcus’s brother’s house for dinner and naturally, Brendon was drawn to the three kittens. They hadn’t planned on coming home from dinner with a kitten, but it just sort of happened. Brendon is thankful for Sheila, though. She’s always there to keep him company on lonely nights.

But just like Nikki said, it’s just a rough patch, and it’s happened before. They go through phases like this, where everything is hectic and busy and they hardly even see each other and there’s distance, but then they’ll be back to normal, comfortable, close, happy. He thinks that it’s like this with most relationships, even though this is the longest one that he’s ever been in.

*

Brendon calls a taxi to take him to the airport early Thursday morning. Marcus is sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake him, so he simply kisses his cheek and lets him sleep. He’ll call him when he lands in Nevada. He hauls his luggage to the elevator. He could have called up the doorman for help, but he only has one bag and it’s not a big deal. When he reaches the lobby of his apartment building and sees which doorman is currently working, though, he realizes that he’s going to get his help whether he wants it or not. And, sure enough, as soon as the boy spots Brendon, he perks up and begins to speak.

“Hi, Mr. Urie!” he says, rushing over to him.

“Hello, Henry,” Brendon returns, having no choice but to allow Henry to grab hold of his suitcase, taking it from him. Truthfully, Brendon is actually quite fond of Henry. He thinks he’s funny, in a goofy sort of way. He’s unbearably awkward, obviously gay, and clearly infatuated with Brendon. He’s also a seventeen-year-old junior that attends the same high school that Brendon teaches at. Brendon has never had him as a student, but he’s seen him around, and he’s also seen how much he gets picked on at school. He’s pretty sure that Henry’s dad owns the apartment building or something along those lines – making Henry’s employment complete nepotism, which makes a lot of sense considering his not-so-great job performance – and it almost doesn’t make sense that he even goes to public school when he could easily afford a private school where he wouldn’t get picked on. Brendon doesn’t question it, though. It’s none of his business. He’ll just be nice to Henry, which will only add to Henry’s crush on him, but it’s not like he would be the first kid in the school to have a crush on Brendon.

“Are you going on a trip?” Henry asks him.

“To a wedding,” he answers, and notices how Henry’s face falls slightly.

“You’re getting married?” he asks. Brendon fights back a laughs and shakes his head.

“Not my wedding, Henry. Considering that I’m going alone…,” he says with a shrug, and then Henry laughs, a little bit too enthusiastically, as if he’s just heard the funniest joke in his entire life.

“Yeah, yeah, that wouldn’t make sense, would it?”

“Don’t you have school in like, an hour?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just covering for Elliot this morning. He had some like, family emergency or something, not important, is that your cab? I’ll put your suitcase in the trunk for you!”

“Oh, alright,” Brendon mumbles, but Henry is already nearly out the door with Brendon’s luggage, so Brendon just follows.

*

Flying used to be fun. It used to be exciting. There was a point about a year ago when it stopped being fun, and since then, it hasn’t been exciting. Brendon is excited to go to Nevada for the first time in a while, but he’s sick of flying, even if it’s been months and months since he’s been on an airplane. And the plane ride from New York to Nevada is long and then there’s a different time zone that will take days to get used to, and by the time he gets used to it, he’ll be on another airplane, flying back to Eastern Standard Time. It’s a small price to pay, though. It’s Jon’s wedding that he’s going back for, after all. A happy event. A fun, exciting event.

*

“How do I look?”

“Honestly? You look awful. You look like absolute shit. Cassie is going to take one look at you a just turn around and leave.”

“Fuck you,” Jon says, looking in the mirror and fixing his tie for the hundredth time.

“You look great, Jon. Seriously,” Brendon assures him.

“It’s weird, because I’m not nervous, but I feel like I should be nervous, and the fact that I’m not nervous is making me nervous.”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” Brendon says. “Besides, I don’t think you have a reason to be nervous. You’re getting married, but you’re marrying Cassie. If a girl can date you for eleven years, you would be stupid to not marry her.”

“I know,” Jon nods.

“And everything is running smoothly so far. It’s going to be fine,” he says. Jon sighs, turning away from the mirror and looking at Brendon. They’re in the men’s bathroom at the country club where both the ceremony and reception for Jon’s wedding are taking place. It’s not a particularly fancy place, and the only spot to get ready is the restrooms. Last Brendon checked, Cassie was having her hair done by her sister in the ladies room across the hall.

“I wish I had some pot to make me calm down,” Jon says.

“Jonathan! We are responsible adults who have never smoked pot in our entire lives,” Brendon says.

“Is that what you tell your students?”

“Luckily, nobody has ever asked. But if they ever do, yes. Besides, I can’t even remember the last time I smoked.”

“Me either,” Jon laughs. “Years ago.”

“I’m pretty sure I was still living in San Francisco when I smoked last.”

“I…think for me, it was right before me and Cassie got the house together. That was quite a while ago.”

“I kind of miss it.”

“Me too,” Jon nods with a laugh. “Being a responsible adult can get so boring.”

“But you’re getting married! That’s a responsible adult activity and it’s exciting!”

“It is exciting,” he agrees. “I am going to be somebody’s husband. That’s so weird.”

“It is weird. You’re going to be a husband!”

“And a father,” Jon says, and Brendon stops looking at himself in the mirror and turns to Jon with widened eyes.

“What?” he asks.

“Yeah. Cassie’s pregnant,” he reveals, his mouth curving into a grin. And Brendon is nearly speechless. He wants to yell out in excitement for his best friend, he wants to jump on him in a hug, he wants to ask questions, like how long has he knows and why hasn’t he told him sooner, but before he can do any of that, Jon begins to speak again.

“You can’t tell anyone though, okay? The only other people that know are my parents and Cassie’s sister. We’re waiting until after the wedding to tell everybody else.”

“Oh my god, is this a shotgun wedding?” Brendon asks. “Is this why you’re getting married?”

“What? Brendon, no. We’ve been engaged for like, a year. We set the date for the wedding like, five months ago. She’s only two months pregnant.”

“Oh, right,” he laughs. “Oh my god, Jon! You’re gonna be a dad!”

“I know,” he nods.

“Jon Walker, husband and father. That has a nice ring to it. It almost rhymes. I like it.”

“I’m scared,” Jon admits. “I mean, I’m thrilled, but I’m scared. I don’t know anything about raising a kid. And are we even financially stable? I work at a bar, for crying out loud. I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.”

“Jon, relax,” Brendon says, placing a hand on his arm comfortingly. “You’re gonna be an awesome dad. Nobody knows what they’re doing when they have kids. They just figure it out. And you’ll figure it out. And you don’t just work at a bar. You manage a bar. Big difference. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“It’s still terrifying,” Jon says.

“Yeah, well, you have what, seven months? You have plenty of time to get less scared. But right now, we should focus on getting you married, because your wedding is starting soon.”

“Right. Wedding.”

“Wedding.”

“Wedding.”

*

Brendon remembers hearing once that when a certain age is reached, the wedding invitations start pouring in and friends start getting married left and right. He always thought that it was a bit of an exaggeration. But the first wedding invitation came when he was twenty-three, living in San Francisco, from a college friend, and since then, every few months, he receives an invitation or hears about another old friend that has tied the knot.

He doesn’t go to many of the weddings that he gets invited to, most of them taking place in or around California and him living all the way in New York, but it still feels strange to know that so many people his age have settled down with husbands and wives and sometimes children.

And now it’s his best friend that he has known since he was fifteen years old, and he’s getting married and has a baby on the way.

He tries not to cry during the ceremony, but he really can’t help it.

*

Mr. and Mrs. Walker dance. They dance alone on the floor until the best man and the maid of honor join them. Brendon only met Cassie’s sister for the first time the previous night at the rehearsal dinner, but she’s nice enough, so he doesn’t mind dancing with her.

Other wedding guests begin to make their way onto the dance floor and Brendon is laughing at something amusing that Cassie’s sister just said when somebody beside him speaks.

“Excuse me, can I cut in?”

Brendon recognizes the voice right away, before he even turns to look at the still-familiar face, even though it’s been years since he’s last seen it. Cassie’s sister steps back, allowing her dance partner to be taken from her, and Brendon grins, practically jumping on his old friend, wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Ryan!” he exclaims, and Ryan laughs softly as he returns Brendon’s hug. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“I know. It’s been a really long time,” Ryan agrees, breaking the hug and taking a small step away, and Brendon allows his eyes to roam over Ryan. He hasn’t seen him in…four years? Five years? He can’t even remember. But he looks nearly the same. He looks more mature, definitely, but he’s still the same old Ryan that he remembers.

“I heard you’re living in New York now!” Ryan says, sounding somewhat impressed, and Brendon smiles, nodding.

“Yeah.”

“That’s crazy! I mean, it’s awesome, but it’s crazy. How did you end up there? Last I knew, you were in San Francisco.”

“Has it really been that long since we’ve talked?” Brendon asks incredulously. He feels like he’s been in New York for ages now. San Francisco feels like centuries ago. How has he gone this long without staying in touch with Ryan?

“How long have you been there?”

“Like, four years!”

“You’ve been living in New York for four years and I only just found out like, last week? That’s messed up,” Ryan laughs. “Wait, so, how long were you in San Francisco? You had pretty much only just moved there, last time we talked… whenever that was.”

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t stay there very long.”

“Why not?”

“Oh,” Brendon shrugs somewhat sheepishly, not really feeling like explaining the whole thing, because what seemed like a good idea at twenty-three is now, at twenty-seven, just an embarrassing story about a foolish decision. “It’s a long story.”

“I see,” Ryan says, and then he takes a quick glance at all of the people dancing around them. “You know, I feel kind of dumb, just standing in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Okay, then let’s dance,” Brendon says, reaching up to place his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, and Ryan’s hands move to Brendon’s waist and they begin to sway in time to the music while they continue their conversation. “So, what about you? Where are you living? What are you doing? What is your life like?”

“What? We’re already moving on to my life? We’ve barely even started with yours.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll take turns. So, I live in New York City and you live where?”

“Here. Still. Not very impressive,” Ryan answers.

“Nothing wrong with that,” he says.

“I guess,” he shrugs. “So, what do you do in New York City?”

“I’m a high school English teacher,” Brendon responds.

“Really? That’s awesome!” Ryan exclaims.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, man. You’re a teacher. That’s so cool. And weird.”

“Why is it weird?” he asks with a laugh.

“I don’t know. I’m just picturing you as a teacher and it’s just funny in my head. I mean, it’s not funny, it’s just… I don’t know.”

“Right. Whatever. What do you do?”

“I work a nine-to-five office job at an architecture firm, which sounds really boring, but it’s actually pretty cool.”

“Are you like, an architect?” Brendon asks.

“No,” Ryan shakes his head. “I just work for architects. It’s kind of hard to explain, I guess.”

“Sounds interesting, though.”

“Yeah, I mean, I like it and it pays the bills.”

“That’s all that matters!”

“Exactly,” Ryan smiles. “Okay, so we’re through with cities of residency and jobs, so what’s next?”

“Hm.”

“Is it time for relationships yet?”

“Already?”

“I think so,” Ryan nods. “Anybody special in your life, Brendon?”

“Yes,” he says with a shy sort of smile. “His name is Marcus. We’ve been together for three years. And, um, yeah. Okay. Your turn. You seeing anyone?”

“Just recently out of a two-and-a-half-year relationship,” Ryan shares. “By ‘just recently’, I mean that the breakup was like, four months ago, but, well, you know how those things go.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh, hey, I just remembered! How is your mom? Jon told me a little bit about what happened.”

“Oh, well, you know, she’s strong,” Brendon says. “And they caught it early enough so, I mean, it was a pretty awful time when it was all going on last year, but she is cancer-free now.”

“That’s good. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that, though. That’s awful.”

“Yeah. She definitely put us through quite a scare. But it’s all okay now.”

“Good,” Ryan says, just as the slow-paced song that was playing ends and a more upbeat one comes on. Their mindless swaying no longer fits, so they both take a step back from each other, and almost as if on cue, Jon appears beside them, grinning widely as he throws his arms over both of their shoulders.

“Reunited!” he exclaims, and Brendon and Ryan both laugh. “It’s like prom all over again!”

“Oh my god, it kind of is,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, but we’re missing Spencer,” Ryan points out.

“Well, go get him!” Jon demands.

“Is Spencer here too?” Brendon asks.

“Of course Spencer is here!”

“I haven’t seen Spencer in forever!”

“Well, let’s go find Spencer!”

*

Brendon isn’t sure whose idea it was to steal the champagne. He’s also not sure if it really even counts as stealing. It’s the same champagne that would have been poured into glasses and served and drank, so really, they’re just saving the caterers from the chore of pouring it and serving it.

Food has been eaten, toasts have been made, and on his way back from the restrooms to his seat at the wedding party table, Brendon just so happened to pass the kitchens where several bottles of unopened champagne were just sitting there. He mentioned it to Ryan. Ryan joked about swiping a couple bottles. Brendon took the joke seriously. Maybe Ryan was a little bit serious and not fully joking, anyways. Maybe Brendon had already had enough champagne to make him feel a little silly. Maybe sneaking into the kitchen and casually grabbing two unopened bottles of champagne was way too easy. Either way, two bottles of champagne had been stolen and one is nearly finished already.

They’re sitting just outside the reception area, on a bench in the hallway, one bottle of champagne opened between them, another unopened bottle on the floor beside them.

“You never told me why you actually moved to New York City,” Ryan says. Brendon grimaces, shaking his head almost violently.

“It’s so embarrassing!” he says.

“How can it be embarrassing? What happened?”

“Oh, god,” Brendon laughs, covering part of his face with his hand. “A guy that I had been dating for a few months asked me to move there with him.”

“And you did?”

“Yeah. I moved to the other side of the country with a guy that I had known for a grand total of five months,” he admits, shaking his head in shame.

“No you didn’t,” Ryan laughs, and maybe he’s drunk, or maybe it really is just that ridiculous. Or maybe both. Because it is really ridiculous, especially when it’s put into context with Brendon’s dating history before that, which they’re both painfully familiar with.

“Oh, but I did,” Brendon nods.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously! Why would I make this up?”

“I don’t know! It just doesn’t sound like something you would do!”

“I know! That’s why it was so weird!”

“But why?”

“At the time, it was more of a ‘why not?’ sort of thing. It wasn’t really even about the guy, because I liked him, but that was it. But I had been living in San Francisco, I couldn’t find a teaching job, I was just working at this grocery store, and when he asked if I wanted to move with him, I was like ‘yeah, sure, why not?’ I didn’t have anything keeping me there,” he explains with a shrug, followed by a long sip straight from the champagne bottle.

“Why was he moving to New York?”

“Oh, he was an actor. Well, still is. Not that I talk to him anymore, but I see his name on signs all the time. But uh, yeah, he got offered a job off-Broadway, so yeah. It worked out well for him. I think he was nominated for a Tony last year. He didn’t win, though. Which is good. He doesn’t deserve it. He was an asshole.”

“So, I take it the relationship didn’t work out, then.”

“We broke up two months after we moved to New York together,” Brendon says. “Apparently, some actors think that the best way to thank their fans for supporting them is by having sex with them.”

“Oh. Wow. Ouch.”

“Yeah. But! It worked out. Turns out, I love New York!”

“I’ve never been to New York!” Ryan says.

“You’ve never been to New York?”

“No! Never!”

“Oh my god, you have to come to New York! It’s so awesome there, and I live there, and I work there,” Brendon says, and he’s not even aware of how stupid he’s sounding because the bubbles from all of the champagne have gone right to his brain.

“As a teacher!” Ryan exclaims.

“Yeah! As a teacher!”

“You’re a teacher!”

“I am a teacher!”

“Are you like, the hot teacher? Like, the one that everyone has a crush on?” Ryan asks.

“Oh my god, I am,” he nods in reply and Ryan laughs loudly.

“You are?”

“I totally am! My friend, Nikki, who is a history teacher, she tells me all the time about the conversations she overhears in her class about me, usually between like, fifteen-year-old girls.”

“That is great.”

“And oh my gosh, there’s this kid, he’s like, seventeen, and he goes to my school, and he also works at my apartment building as a doorman and he has such an obvious crush on me and he’s so awkward. It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

“You have a doorman at your apartment?” Ryan asks, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Brendon nods.

“That’s fancy.”

“I know. It’s a fancy place.”

“Where do you live?”

“Upper East Side,” Brendon tells him.

“I have no idea what that even means,” Ryan laughs.

“It’s like, by the Met and Central Park and it’s close to Times Square and Fifth Avenue and it’s full of expensive-as-fuck apartments that all have doormen,” he explains. Ryan raises his eyebrows.

“So, basically, it’s the rich part of town?”

“Kind of, yeah, pretty much.”

“And you have the salary of a teacher, right?”

“Yes,” he nods, and watches in amusement as Ryan drunkenly tries to fit the pieces together and then looks up at him questioningly.

“Is your boyfriend rich?” he asks.

“You could probably say that, yeah. He… has a pretty good job.”

“Does he work on Wall Street?” Ryan guesses.

“No.”

“Broadway?”

“No.”

“Fashion designer? With collections shown at Bryant Park?”

“Are you just guessing New York City-specific jobs here?”

“Yeah.”

“I can just tell you what he does. You don’t have to keep guessing.”

“Does he work for NBC?”

“No.”

“Okay, I give up. What’s his job?”

“He’s a surgeon.”

“That has nothing to do with New York City!”

“I never said it did!”

“You didn’t? Oh. Yeah. No, you didn’t, did you? But wow. A surgeon? Really? That’s impressive,” Ryan says, drinking from the champagne bottle, emptying it.

“He is quite impressive,” Brendon nods, a dazed sort of smile spreading over his lips as he thinks about Marcus.

“I can’t get this gold shit off,” Ryan mumbles, working on opening the second stolen bottle of champagne. Brendon laughs, reaching out for the bottle to try to help him.

*

Coffee. Brendon smells coffee. He doesn’t really know where he is, but he definitely smells coffee. He opens his eyes and the lights are too bright and his head throbs painfully, but there’s coffee, right there in front of him, right by his nose, being held out to him by his older sister. And upon a quick glance at his surroundings, he finds that he is in his sister’s house, in her living room, on her couch. And he’s wearing the same thing he was wearing the night before, although he spots both his jacket and his tie on a nearby chair. How did he end up here? How much did he drink? What happened?

“Good morning, starshine,” Erica says, moving the cup of coffee out from under Brendon’s nose to the table in front of him. Brendon begins to push himself up into a sitting position, but the slight movement makes his head pound and his stomach lurch and he groans, falling back down to his original position.

“How did I get here?” he asks.

“I came and got you. After Jon called me to tell me to come and get you because you were wasted,” she explains.

“Oh,” he says, trying to remember any of that, but drawing a blank. “Well… thank you.”

“Not a problem. I put sheets on the bed in the guest room for you, but you passed out on the couch while I was doing that.”

“Oh.”

“Anyways! Coffee and ibuprofen, right here for you,” she says, and Brendon gives her his best attempt at a smile.

“You’re the best.”

“I know,” she smiles. “It’s good to see you, even if you are either drunk or hung over the few times I get to see you when you’re home.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I understand.”

“I was going to visit you today, anyways,” Brendon says. “It’s all part of my extensive plan. I visit you today, and then I go out to LA tomorrow to visit Casey. And then I’m back in time to spend some more time with Mom, and then I leave.”

“That’s a busy schedule,” Erica comments.

“Yeah, well, lots of people to see in a short amount of time.”

“Speaking of people to see, there have been two children eagerly waiting for you to wake up.”

“Where are they?”

“Probably waiting in the hall. I told them they weren’t allowed to bother you until after you’ve been medicated.”

“You really told them that?” he asks.

“No, I just told them to wait until you were fully awake,” she laughs.

“Oh, okay, good. Well, you can send them in!”

“Lucie! Logan! You can come in!” Erica shouts out and Brendon cringers, her voice way too loud for his delicate, hung-over state. Immediately, two figures appear in the doorway and Brendon can’t help but to smile at the sight of his grinning and excited niece and nephew.

“Uncle Brendon!” they both call out, bounding over to him, and he ignores his headache and nausea for a moment to sit up completely, opening his arms for the two of them to run into.

“My favourite niece and nephew!” he exclaims, even though it’s an old joke that he’s been using for years now, but they still laugh as they hug him.

“Uncle Brendon, were you drunk last night?” Logan asks him.

“What? Me? No way!”

“Yes you were,” Lucie says with a giggle.

“How do you know?”

“I was awake when you got here. I heard you. You were definitely drunk.”

“What were you doing awake at that hour? Because I’m sure it was very late.”

“It wasn’t that late,” Lucie shrugs. “It was only like, one.”

“Why were you awake at one in the morning?” Brendon asks her.

“I was online.”

“What were you doing online at one in the morning?” Erica cuts in, and Lucie shrugs again.

“Stuff,” she answers simply.

“We learned in school that getting drunk is bad,” Logan says.

“You’re such a loser, Logan,” Lucie scoffs. “People drink all the time.”

“Getting drunk before the age of twenty-one is very bad,” Brendon says. “And neither of you should ever do it.”

“High school kids on TV drink all the time,” Lucie points out.

“Yeah, but you watch dumb shows,” Logan says.

“You only think they’re dumb because you’re dumb.”

“Mom! Lucie called me dumb!”

“Oh my god! You’re seriously going to tell on me? She’s sitting right there, you idiot. She obviously heard me!”

“Mom!”

“Lucie, don’t call your brother dumb or an idiot,” Erica says, sounding bored, as if she deals with this kind of thing every day. Brendon shoots her an amused look and she just shakes her head.

“The joys of living with a twelve-year-old and an eight-year-old,” she smiles.

*

For four years, Brendon made the Nevada-to-California trip all the time, going back and forth between home and school. It seemed so much easier back then for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s so used to walking or using public transit to get places now, and driving through traffic for four hours in a rental car makes his anxiety go through the roof. Or maybe it’s just because he’s older and spending four hours in a car isn’t as easy as it used to be. Either way, he’s ecstatic when he finally reaches the apartment of his little sister.

“Brendon!” she shrieks when she sees him, launching herself at him in a hug, which he happily returns. She drags him inside where he says hello to her roommate and they sit down in the living room and she grins at him.

“I’m so happy you’re here! And not just because your visit totally got me a day off work, either. Although that part is pretty nice,” she says.

“How is work?” he asks.

“Oh my gosh, it’s amazing!” she exclaims. “I mean, it’s so much work all the time – I mean, you know how Shane is – but I’m getting so much good experience, and on an actual set! It’s just incredible. I love it.”

“That’s great, Casey! You sure he’s not working you too hard, though? Because I can yell at him if I need to. He listens to me, you know.”

“No! He’s not overworking me. And if he is, it’s okay, because I love it,” she assures him.

“Oh, to be young and eager,” he comments with a laugh.

“Yeah, whatever. Oh, you brought your swimsuit, right? We’re meeting Shane at the beach in an hour.”

“Of course I did. It’s practically still winter in New York. Of course I brought my swimsuit to spend a day on the beach in the beautiful, glorious, hot sun!”

*

“Dude, get off your stupid phone. I haven’t seen you in months and you’re going to spend our entire beach day on your phone?”

“Hold on, I just have to…. Okay. There. Done,” Shane says, setting his cell phone down onto his beach mat.

“Are you doing work? You’re not supposed to be doing work. It’s your day off,” Brendon says.

“I can’t help it! I’m sorry!”

“Oh my god, I think you’re even worse than Marcus.”

“Hey, this movie could totally save more lives in an emotional sense than Marcus could ever save in a physical sense,” Shane argues.

“Right,” Brendon laughs.

“Anyways, how are things with Marcus?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Could be worse. He called me yesterday and we talked for a while, but then he had to go because it was like, midnight in New York.”

“Time zones are a bitch,” Shane says.

“Yeah,” Brendon agrees. “Anyways, I’m sure things will get better soon. I just hate complaining that he’s never around, so I don’t. Well, I mean, I don’t complain about it to him. I mostly complain about it to you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“And I greatly appreciate it,” Brendon smiles, looking out at the waves and the sand and the bright sun and the crowds of people at the beach. He spots Casey in the distance, near the water with her roommate, and then he glances back over at Shane. “Hey, so, what’s going on with you and that one guy?”

“Which one?” Shane asks.

“There’s more than one?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Who are you referring to?”

“The French one. The make-up artist or whatever he was,” Brendon says.

“Oh. François. Right. Him. Yeah, turns out he’s straight,” Shane replies.

“What? Really?”

“So he says.”

“But didn’t you guys—”

“Yep.”

“But he says he’s straight?”

“Yep.”

“But he’s a make-up artist!”

“He’s also French,” Shane shrugs. “I was mad, but I’m over it.”

“Does he still work on set?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you see him?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is it awkward?”

“A little bit. It’s just kind of like, I don’t know. Yeah, we slept together, but he’s clearly not into me, so we move on.”

“You’re so much better at all of that stuff than I could ever be,” Brendon comments with a laugh and Shane nods.

“Yeah. Well, that’s why you’re the one in the long-term, committed relationship and I’m the one sleeping with straight, French make-up artists. You would never be able to handle being a slut.”

“Uh, hey. I had a slut phase!” Brendon argues.

“Could you really call that a phase? It was more like a very brief period of slut-like behaviour.”

“It was not that brief. It was like, a couple months.”

“And did you enjoy those couple months?”

“Sometimes,” he says.

“Were you ever ashamed of yourself?” Shane asks.

“Sometimes,” he says again, somewhat hesitantly. “Most of the time.”

“Yeah, it was just a brief period of slut-like behaviour.”

“Oh, whatever.”

“Not everybody can deal with that lifestyle. You are much more of a long-term-committed-relationship kind of guy,” Shane explains. “Speaking of long-term, committed relationships, how was Jon and Cassie’s wedding?”

“It was great. Cassie looked gorgeous, the ceremony was beautiful, I drank way too much champagne – oh my gosh! You’ll never guess who I ran into!”

“Who?”

“Ryan!”

“Oh, wow. How long has it been since you last saw him?” Shane asks.

“Like… five years, I think,” Brendon says.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Of course I talked to him. A lot, actually. I spent most of the reception hanging out with him.”

“Uh oh,” Shane mumbles, and Brendon shoots him a questioning glance.

“What?”

“You hanging out with Ryan. I mean, doesn’t this usually result in some confusing love triangle?”

“What are you talking about?” Brendon laughs while Shane looks at him, his eyebrows raised, clearly telling him that he thinks he’s stupid.

“Seriously?” Shane asks. “I mean, Ryan. Ryan. You and Ryan – the cosmic love that never was. Does Marcus know about Ryan?”

“Marcus knows that Ryan exists, yes. I have mentioned him before.”

“Does Marcus know about your recent Ryan encounter?”

“No. I didn’t bring that up because I didn’t think it was very important.”

“Really? Because, I mean, it’s you and Ryan,” Shane says. Brendon stares blankly at him.

“I really don’t see what you’re getting at here. Yeah, it’s me and Ryan. Ryan, who I have not seen or spoken to in around five years.”

“Yes, but still. You and Ryan. The star-crossed lovers who could never get their shit together enough to actually be lovers.”

“Whatever,” Brendon scoffs, looking away from Shane. “Why don’t you write a movie about it?”

“Oh, god, nobody would want to see that movie,” Shane laughs. “It would be the most frustrating movie ever. People would be throwing their popcorn at the screen by the end, just yelling at the two little bitches of main characters to stop being pussies and just get together already because they’re obviously meant to be together.”

“Wow.”

“It would be like Romeo and Juliet, if, after the balcony scene, Romeo was just like ‘hey, I know we’re completely in love and all, but I think I’m gonna sit this one out.’”

“Hey, don’t you dare use Shakespeare against me!” Brendon snaps, glaring at Shane semi-playfully. “Besides, maybe if Romeo did sit it out, they would have both lived.”

“What I’m trying to get at here is that you and Ryan spent a lot of angst-filled years wanting each other, and it never really happened.”

“Right. And then we grew up and now we have different lives. The angst-ridden teenage and early-twenties years are long behind us now,” Brendon says.

“Are they?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Besides… who knows when I’ll even see him again?”

“What, you didn’t exchange phone numbers and promise to not let it ever be that long without talking again?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember, really. I got really drunk,” Brendon admits, then he tilts his head in a thoughtful, questioning way. “Did you really mean that, though? I mean, about me and Ryan being ‘obviously meant to be together’ or whatever?”

“Well, yeah, of course. I think you two absolutely were meant to be together at one point,” Shane nods. “But like you said, you have different lives now. You’re different people. Things went in a different direction, you know?”

“Right,” Brendon nods. It’s not like he’s never wondered what his life would be like if he and Ryan ever did ‘get their shit together’, like Shane puts it, because he has wondered about it a few times. He thinks about it much less now than he used to years ago, but now that it’s being brought up, he’s thinking about it again. Shane seems to notice that he’s lost Brendon to his thoughts and he nudges him lightly.

“Hey. If Romeo sat it out with Juliet, they probably would have ended up living. If you and Ryan got together, maybe he would have ended up killing your cousin and then there would have been a double-suicide and you would be dead. Or, you know, something else that isn’t so dramatic.”

“Yeah. I know. You’re right. Things would be different.”

“I mean, if you like how your life is, don’t worry about all of the what-could-have-beens. Just focus on what you have now,” Shane says.

“I do like how my life is,” Brendon says.

“Life is one big chain of events all linked together. One thing different, and everything would be completely thrown off,” Shane tells him. “So, don’t worry about what did or didn’t happen in the past. Look at your life now. You live in an amazing apartment in an amazing city with your really attractive boyfriend—”

“He is really hot, isn’t it?” Brendon cuts in.

“He really is,” Shane nods. “I mean, those muscles.”

“They are really nice muscles,” he smiles.

“Marcus is definitely the second-most attractive man you have ever dated. Me obviously being number one.”

“I guess everyone is right when they say that a little bit of Hollywood fame goes straight to a person’s head,” Brendon jokes.

“Hey, guys!” Casey yells out, running up to them, gathering her wet, curly dark hair into a messy ponytail as she looks at them. “Stop being boring and come get in the water!”

“But the water is so wet,” Shane whines. Brendon catches Casey’s eyes and they both grin. Brendon hops up from his beach chair and he and his sister both round on Shane, moving to either side of him. The sudden realization of what is happening dawns on Shane’s face and he groans as Brendon and Casey grab his arms, pulling him up and towards the water.

“Fuck you guys!” he yells, not even bothering the struggle against them.

They all end up in the water.