All Good Things.

The view of New York City from the window of an airplane is a breathtaking sight. From that height, the buildings look like toys; hundreds and hundreds of plastic blocks all stuck together and put in rows. The Statue of Liberty stands alone on her island, looking like a little green doll, secluded from the towering city. And at night, the view from the airplane window is completely different, but just as awe-inspiring. Thousands and thousands of little lights scattered everywhere.

As the airplane gets closer and closer to landing, Brendon stares out of his window, captivated by the sight of his city welcoming him home. He can’t help but wonder how many people on the same airplane as him are getting their very first views of New York City. The idea makes him feel light for some reason, almost as if he’s excited for all of the first-time visitors to experience the thrill and magic of The Big Apple.

He looks out at the sea of lights below him. Home. He’s almost home.

*

Brendon’s body is telling him that it is around six in the evening. The stewardess on the airplane that announces the current city time is telling him that it is nine at night. Jet lag is an unwelcome visitor, but he knows he’s just going to have to suffer through it.

He rolls his suitcase through the airport, knowing that there are plenty of eager taxis just outside that will be more than happy to take him home, when he spots a tall and rather attractive man with his eyes on him. A grin breaks out onto Brendon’s face and he changes his direction to hurry over to his waiting boyfriend.

“What are you doing here?” Brendon asks with a joyful laugh, letting go of the handle of his suitcase so that he can wrap his arms around Marcus, standing on the very tips of his toes to try to be closer to his level to hug him properly.

“I wanted to come and pick my boyfriend up from the airport,” Marcus answers, returning the hug and then planting a kiss on Brendon’s lips. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Brendon says, stepping away from Marcus and grabbing his suitcase again. “My other boyfriend is also supposed to pick me up, so… this could get awkward.”

“Oh, really? I’d love to meet him.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “He’s pretty built. He could probably kick your ass.”

“I already feel threatened. I know how much you like guys that are built.”

“Yeah. He’s really tall, too.”

“I know how much you like tall guys.”

“And he’s black.”

“I know how much you like black guys.”

“And he has a really nice smile.”

“Aw,” Marcus says, flashing his smile that Brendon is so fond of. Brendon laughs, slipping his free hand into Marcus’s as they walk.

“What? I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about my other boyfriend,” he says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my mistake. I didn’t know that you had two tall, built, black boyfriends with nice smiles.”

“Nobody ever said anything about you have a nice smile. Don’t get cocky,” Brendon jokes. Marcus just laughs and shakes his head as they continue their way out of the airport together.

*

“Sheila!” Brendon calls out the second he’s through the door in his apartment, abandoning his suitcase in the hallway to search for his cat. “Sheila, baby, where are you?”

Marcus grabs Brendon’s suitcase and follows him into their bedroom, setting his luggage just inside the door for him, even though he’s much too distracted to notice.

“Sheila Joan Franklin James-Urie, where are you? There you are! Baby girl!” Brendon coos, finally spotting the cat. Sheila meows, trotting over to Brendon, and Brendon grins, reaching down to pick her up, cradling her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. Marcus stands there, watching his boyfriend with a smile.

“Hello, my little baby! I missed you! Did you miss me? Oh, you did, didn’t you? You don’t like it when your daddy leaves you, do you? Your other daddy doesn’t feed you four times a day like you like, does he?”

“Four times a day?” Marcus laughs. “No wonder she’s so fat.”

“Hey!” Brendon warns hugging Sheila tighter. She purrs loudly, kneading her paws against Brendon’s chest. “Don’t call your daughter fat. Now she’s going to have self-esteem issues and develop an eating disorder.”

“I’m sorry, Sheila,” Marcus says, stepping closer to the two and reaching out to scratch under Sheila’s chin. “I love you just the way you are. Please don’t become cat-orexic.”

“Cat-orexic. That’s clever,” Brendon comments, finally releasing Sheila, letting her hop down to the bed.

“Yeah, I thought so, too,” Marcus smiles, and almost instinctively, a smile spreads over Brendon’s face because Marcus’s smile always makes him smile as well. He really does have a fantastic smile. His smile is probably one of the first things that made Brendon fall in love with him and now, years later, it’s still one of Brendon’s favourite things.

“Anyways,” Marcus says, turning away and beginning to walk from the bedroom. “You hungry?”

“Yes,” Brendon answers, still in the bedroom.

“We really don’t have much food here. You know how terrible I am about feeding myself when you’re not here to remind me? I don’t think we’ve had food here since about the day after you left.”

“What have you been eating?” Brendon asks, his voice louder to reach Marcus, wherever he is.

“Take-out and hospital food!”

“I don’t think you’d be able to survive if I left for more than a few days, would you?” he laughs, leaving the bedroom, walking towards the kitchen.

“Probably not. So, yeah, no food here. We could go out somewhere. Or get take-out. Take-out is always good. Or I could just run down to Duane Reade and get something. One of those weird avocado salads you like.”

“I don’t care,” Brendon shrugs, finding Marcus in the kitchen, one cupboard opened to display various canned goods, but nothing substantial enough to eat. Marcus is glancing at one of the many take-out menus stuck to the refrigerator. Brendon makes his way over to him, standing behind him and snaking his arms around his middle, resting his head on his back, between his shoulder blades. Marcus turns around to face Brendon, smoothly, so that Brendon’s arms stay wrapped around him. Brendon lifts his head, looking up at him.

“Hey,” he smiles.

“Hi,” Marcus returns. Brendon stretches upwards while Marcus leans down so that their mouths meet and they kiss. Marcus’s hands move to Brendon’s face, fingers lightly stroking against his cheeks. They break apart and smile at each other.

“I missed you,” Marcus tells him.

“I missed you, too,” Brendon says. And really, he means much more than just missing him while he was away in Nevada. They kiss again. Brendon brings his hands around to Marcus’s hips, resting them there, his fingers toying at the waistband of his jeans.

*

They forget to eat. Brendon remembers the concept of food later, when his stomach growls loudly while he’s lying in bed, one arm slung over Marcus’s sleeping figure. He’s wide awake because his body is still very much in Pacific Time, even after the intense strenuous activity that he just endured. They were supposed to be finding food, but it somehow turned into sex against the kitchen counter, which turned into sex on the kitchen table, which turned into sex against the wall in the hallway heading to their bedroom, which finally turned into sex in their bed. After sex in the bed became snuggling in the bed, food was the last thing on either of their minds. But now Marcus is asleep and Brendon is awake and his stomach is reminding him of just how hungry he actually is.

He slides out of bed and nakedly strolls to the other side of the apartment, to the kitchen, finding his discarded clothing and pulling them back onto his body. He checks his wallet to make sure that he has some cash. A falafel from the vendor a few blocks down sounds like an excellent late dinner to him.

*

“You’re back, you’re back, you’re back, you’re back!” Nikki yells, running through the hallway of the high school towards Brendon, a few early students stopping to stare at them.

“You act like I’ve been gone for months,” Brendon laughs.

“It felt like forever. How was Nevada? How was the wedding? How’s your family? Did you have fun? Was it warm there?”

“Um. Good, good, good, yes, yes,” Brendon answers. “And how was it here?”

“Let’s see… the most exciting things that happened while you were gone was a fight in the cafeteria between two cheerleaders and Henry Cohen told Andy Davison to go eff himself.”

“Good for Henry,” Brendon comments, impressed, and kind of wishing that he had been there to witness it.

“I know, right?” Nikki nods. “Of course, he ended up getting detention for it.”

“Even though Andy was probably tormenting him, right?”

“More than likely. Poor Henry.”

“Poor Henry,” Brendon agrees, reaching the door of his classroom.

“Hey, you’ll tell me all of the fun details about your trip later at lunch, right?”

“Of course.”

“Great. I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” Brendon says, slipping into his classroom as Nikki goes into hers.

*

“Okay, so, he’s your ex, but you never actually dated?”

“Right,” Brendon nods. “I mean, that’s the easiest way to describe it.”

“So, was it weird to see him?” Nikki asks from across their usual table in the teacher’s lounge during lunch.

“No, not at all. I mean, there really aren’t any hard feelings between us. Things just never worked out, you know?”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he shrugs, trying to think back to all those years ago, trying to remember why, exactly, it didn’t work out with him and Ryan. “I mean, for a while, we very much were a couple, just not officially, and then I moved away for college, and that messed everything up, and then there was about an entire year of drama and angst and love triangles and it finally ended with me ending a relationship to be with him… except, that never really happened.”

“You ended another relationship for him, but you never got together?” Nikki questions, sounding as if she doesn’t quite understand the logic behind it all. Truthfully, when Brendon explains it like this, he hardly understands it, either. But then he remembers bits and pieces of what it was like when they were living it and it makes sense again.

“Well,” he sighs. “I wasn’t ready to jump right into another relationship, even if it was with him. I wanted to wait a while. But, I don’t know, I guess I kept waiting to feel ready to begin a real relationship with him and I kept waiting for it to feel right, and it never really did.”

“But that’s so sad!” Nikki says. Brendon nods in agreement, even if he’s not sure that ‘sad’ is the word that he would really use to describe it.

“I think it was close to a year and a half of us just…waiting to begin a relationship before we… I don’t know, I guess we gave up. And then we drifted apart. And then five years went by without any sort of contact at all.”

“So… was there ever any closure with the whole thing?” she asks.

“Closure? What do you mean?”

“I mean, so, you guys gave up on being together and then drifted apart. But did you ever discuss what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon shrugs. “Not really, I guess. I mean, there was a talk we had towards the very end when he asked me what was going on between us and if he should just move on. I think that was the most we ever really talked about it. It’s kind of a weird topic of conversation, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess. It all just seems so unresolved,” she says.

“Maybe it would be different if we saw each other on a regular basis, but we don’t. If we did, then yeah, it would make sense to talk about it, figure out what went wrong, but when we only see each other every few years, why bring it up?”

“That’s true. That makes sense,” she agrees.

“And besides, I have no idea when I’ll ever even see him again. It could be another five years. Maybe more. So, I mean, that stuff can just stay in the past and it will probably never matter.”

*

Brendon sits in the kitchen of his apartment with two stacks of paper and a red pen. He’s alone, except for Sheila, who is eating her food loudly in her designated corner of the kitchen. He takes a paper from the stack to his left and places it in front of him. He glances at it, draws a red ‘X’ through the black number eight on the page, scrawls ‘9/10’ at the top, and then adds it to the stack of papers to his right.

His cell phone rings. It startles him. He jumps slightly and then reaches for it, sitting on the kitchen table, to the side of ungraded quizzes. He doesn’t recognize the number, but he recognizes the area code as a Nevada area code – specifically, the same area code that he used to have before he became a two-one-two. He answers it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Brendon. This is Ryan.”

“Oh,” Brendon says, setting his red pen down onto the surface of the table. He wonders if he gave Ryan his phone number when he was drunk at Jon’s wedding. “Hi!”

“I had to call Jon to ask for your number because I didn’t have it, but I have kind of an odd question to ask you,” Ryan says, solving the mystery of how he got his phone number.

“Oh, um. How odd of a question?” he asks.

“Well, um. Okay. Do you remember much from Jon’s wedding?”

“Not really, no,” Brendon answers with a laugh. “Do you?”

“No. Like, not at all. How much did we even drink?”

“I remember the two bottles of champagne. There may have been more after that. I really don’t know.”

“Okay, so, both of us were really trashed, then?”

“Yes,” Brendon says.

“I think that we may have done something really, really stupid while trashed,” Ryan says, and immediately, Brendon begins to panic, jumping to terrible conclusions, trying harder than ever to remember anything from that night. What did they do? What stupid thing could they have possibly done that he can’t even remember?

“Um…. Like, like what?” he asks reluctantly, not sure if he really actually wants to know.

“I bought a plane ticket. To New York City. And according to my bank statement, the purchase happened on May eighth at eleven forty-eight PM. I can only assume that we drunkenly decided that I should visit you.”

“Oh… my god,” Brendon mumbles, and just like that, part of the night is flashing back to him. Sitting on a bench in the hallway, two bottles of champagne gone, giggling madly as Ryan booked a flight on his cell phone. “I remember that.”

“You do?”

“Just barely. But oh my god. Yeah. Yeah, I remember that.”

“I can’t remember it at all!”

“I don’t remember whose idea it was. But I know that we both thought that it was a really good idea.”

“How could that possibly be a good idea?”

“Ryan, we were very much intoxicated,” he reminds him. “Anything would have been a good idea.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he sighs.

“So, uh… when are you coming?” he asks.

“Wait, what?”

“Well, you bought a plane ticket. It’s not refundable, is it?”

“Well, no.”

“So, don’t let it go to waste. Come to New York,” Brendon says.

“Seriously?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you wouldn’t mind me visiting?”

“Of course not. It could be fun.”

“I mean, I’d have to book a hotel—”

“You can just stay with me,” he interjects. “Hotels are so expensive here, it would just make sense for you to stay at my place, as long as you don’t mind sleeping on a couch.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that I played a pretty big part in causing you to buy a plane ticket to come here. So, really? It’s the least I can do.”

“Your boyfriend won’t mind?”

“I doubt it,” he shrugs.

“Well…. Okay. Alright. Um, yeah. I guess I’m coming to New York.”

“When?”

“July seventh through the…twelfth, I think.”

“Oh, summer break, perfect,” Brendon says. “LaGuardia or JFK?”

“What?”

“Airport. Which airport are you flying into?”

“Oh. Um. Shit, I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s not that important right now. We have plenty of time to figure all of that out.”

“Right. Wow. I’m coming to New York. To visit you.”

“You are coming to New York to visit me,” Brendon repeats, and then he laughs because Ryan is coming to New York to visit him. He doesn’t see Ryan for five years and then he spends one drunken evening with him and suddenly, he’s coming to New York and staying in Brendon’s apartment with him for five whole days.

*

“It’s like the universe is pushing you two together,” Shane saying, laughing almost hysterically when Brendon calls him to tell him about what happened.

“Wow. Shut up,” Brendon retorts.

*

“Ryan?”

“Yeah. Ryan.”

“Ryan. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. The name sounds so familiar. Who is that again?” Marcus asks. Brendon rolls his eyes. He knows that Marcus knows who Ryan is, and he knows that Marcus knows that he knows that he knows who Ryan is.

“Stop. You know who he is,” Brendon says, nudging Marcus’s feet off of his lap in order to let him know just how serious he is being. Marcus just brings his feet right back to where they were.

“I think he might be somebody important from your past, but I just can’t remember!”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Wait a minute. No. He can’t be a former love, can he? I’m wrong, right? That can’t be right.”

Brendon ignores him.

“Oh, hold on. It’s all coming back to me now. Your first love! Your very, very first love!”

Brendon continues to pointedly ignore him. It does no good.

“And not just your first love. But also the person who took your virginity at the tender age of seventeen.”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen. The tender age of eighteen.”

“Okay, do you have that out of your system now? Can we be serious?”

“Be serious? That’s asking a lot of me, Brendon. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Okay, fine,” Brendon shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from Marcus, picking a point on the opposite wall to stare at. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Marcus beside him on the couch, making faces at him, but he ignores him. Marcus shifts, pulling his feet back to himself, and then he’s right beside Brendon, leaning in close to his face. Brendon keeps staring at his spot on the wall, ignoring his boyfriend, even as he pushes his face right against his. Marcus kisses Brendon’s cheek, exaggerating the noise, and Brendon fights back a smile. Finally, he gives in, turning to look at Marcus, but he shoves him, bringing a hand to his chest and pushing him away from him.

“You are such a weirdo,” he says, and Marcus grins, clearly accepting the statement as a compliment.

“Okay, so, Ryan is coming to visit.”

“Yes,” Brendon nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’re fine with that?”

“Are you asking me if I’m fine with having company for a few days, or are you asking me if I’m fine with having your first love and the person who took your virginity coming to visit?” Marcus asks.

“Um. Both?”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t have a reason to worry, do I? I mean, you hang out with Shane all the time and he’s an ex-boyfriend, too.”

“Yeah, but Shane is kind of special.”

“Shane is pretty special, isn’t he?”

“I mean, now it just seems weird that I ever even dated him.”

“Sometimes I try to picture it and I can’t.”

“What, exactly, do you picture?” Brendon asks with raised eyebrows.

“The sex, of course,” Marcus says casually. Brendon cringes at him.

“I think we need to break up now.”

“Really? I was just starting to grow fond of you, too. Oh well. C’est la vie,” Marcus shrugs. They both manage to keep a straight face for a few seconds before they begin to laugh.

“But seriously,” Brendon says once they’ve gotten over their laughing fit. “You really don’t mind?”

“I really don’t mind. It’s fine. Seriously.”

“You’re the best.”

“You’re the best.”

“No, you are.”

“No, you.”

“Okay, I’m the best,” Brendon smiles.

*

Brendon’s classroom is strangely empty. There are still students in it, but the walls are bare and his desk is cleared off, except for the computer. There are five minutes left of the school year and he’s probably just as ready for it to be summer as his students are. It’s loud in the room, everybody chattering and signing yearbooks and probably making summer plans with each other that will never actually be carried out. Brendon keeps an eye on them while simultaneously doing a few things on his computer. A student comes over to his desk and asks him to sign her yearbook. He does. The final bell finally rings.

It’s suddenly much quieter and physically empty in the room. Brendon wraps up with what he’s doing, powers off his computer, grabs his things, and leaves the classroom.

Most of the hallways have cleared out by now, but a few people linger, and he has to muffle a soft profanity as he makes the mistake of gripping his empty coffee travel-mug from the top, getting remnants of cold, old, gross coffee on his hand. His clothes are far too nice to wipe coffee on, so he quickly ducks into the nearest boys’ restroom.

There is one other person in the restroom, standing at a sink, but Brendon pays him no mind and goes straight to the sink closest to the door, turning it on and sticking his hand under the stream of water. It’s only when Brendon notices the awkward, frozen stance of the boy in the restroom that he glances over at him.

Henry stands there, staring at Brendon with wide eyes, and Brendon begins to smile politely until he notices the paper towel in Henry’s hand and the tiny trickle of blood beneath his left nostril. Brendon turns the sink off and faces Henry, who continues to stare as if he’s a deer caught in headlights.

“Henry, what happened?” Brendon asks. Henry doesn’t say anything right away. He opens his mouth and closes it, then opens it again and closes it again. His eyes move away from Brendon, down towards the sinks, and he simply shrugs, the hand holding the paper towel near his face dropping down to his side.

“I don’t know why they do it,” he mumbles. Brendon takes a few steps closer to him.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighs, not looking up.

“Yes, it does matter,” Brendon insists.

“They can’t get in trouble. It’s the last day of school, they’re already gone, they graduate tomorrow,” he says. “I guess the silver lining is that they won’t be here next year.”

“Why won’t you just tell me who did this to you, Henry?”

“Andy Davison and his friends. What a surprise, right?” he spits out bitterly. It’s such a contrast from the Henry that Brendon usually sees and it upsets him. He doesn’t know him incredibly well, but he thinks that Henry is a nice kid, and he knows that he doesn’t deserve this from anybody.

“Has this happened a lot?” he asks him. Of course, he knows that Henry gets picked on, but he’s never seen the teasing become physical. He almost wishes that he had seen it so that the little assholes would have gotten into serious trouble.

“Only sometimes,” he mutters softly.

“Have you told anybody?”

“Of course not,” he says, finally looking up to meet Brendon’s eyes from a very short moment before darting his eyes back down. “Then Andy would get in trouble and it would just be even worse because then he would be able to add revenge to his list of reasons why he does this – that’s assuming that he actually has reasons, because I don’t know them. I don’t think I’ve ever really done anything to him.”

“Between you and me, Andy Davison isn’t very bright,” Brendon tells him, and he watches as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of Henry’s mouth. “Which, in no way, actually explains why he does what he does, but it might be a contributing factor.”

“He really just does not like me for some reason,” Henry says, sounding utterly confused as to why he’s so disliked. “I used to think that it was because I’m gay, but then I realized that I’m far from the only gay kid at this school, and some of them are far more out and flamboyant than I am, so it can’t be that. But aside from that, I can’t think of anything else that might make him want to push me into lockers hard enough to give me a nosebleed. I’m at a loss.”

“Sometimes, some people are just mean for no real reason at all,” Brendon says.

“Yeah. Assholes,” Henry nods, then glances up at Brendon. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. They are assholes,” he agrees. Henry smiles.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“Um. Well. You… you’re gay, right?” he asks, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Brendon isn’t sure how to answer, but his lack of response is very quickly cut off by Henry continuing to speak. “I mean, I know that something that you don’t really share with students. I mean, other teachers, they sometimes talk about their wives and husbands, but people tell me that you never really talk about anybody, and when people ask, you never really answer. So, I totally understand if you don’t want to tell me. I’ve always just sort of assumed. A lot of people assume, actually. It’s kind of been an ongoing debate with everyone ever since you first got here. I probably shouldn’t tell you that. It’s not a bad thing, though. It’s just people wondering. And I’ve always assumed so because I see you outside of school more than I see you in school and I know you live with Dr. James. I’ve never told anybody that, though. I’ve always just kept it to myself. Because it’s not really anybody’s business but yours. And I know it’s not any of my business, so you don’t have to tell me. I was just wondering.”

He finishes his ramble with a shaky breath, quickly taking a glance up at Brendon and looking away again. Brendon isn’t sure what to say. As outgoing as he is with his students, he’s never revealed anything about his sexual orientation or romantic life to any of them before. He made the conscious decision not to because, regardless of equality being very present in both the time and location, he’s always just figured that it’s his own business that he doesn’t particularly want or need to discuss with his students. But Henry isn’t even his student, technically. He’s his doorman that just so happens to be a student at the school he teaches at. And he likes Henry. He thinks Henry is nice. And he feels sorry for Henry. But he doesn’t know if he should answer his question.

“How long have you been a doorman?” Brendon asks him. Henry seems surprised by the question and he blinks up at Brendon for a few moments before speaking.

“Um. I started working when I was fifteen. So, uh, two years,” he says. “But, I mean, I’ve been there longer, just… not working.”

“Before I moved into the building, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I mean, I saw you around before you moved in. Before I even realized that you were a teacher here, actually. But, um, yeah. Why?”

“Well,” Brendon says. “You see me outside of school more than you see me in school. You see where I live and who I live with and you know the general layout of most of the apartments and the amount of rooms in my apartment and you saw me there before I even moved in – into an already-occupied apartment. So, yeah, I’d say that you can probably figure out certain things on your own.”

“So…. So, you are?”

“Here,” Brendon says, ripping a clean paper towel from the dispenser and handing it to Henry. “Your nose is still bleeding a bit. Let’s get you cleaned up and then go home.”

*

“Do we have to go?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t want to go.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby and walk down these stairs right now,” Nikki demands, pointing towards the subway entrance. Marcus whines, turning to pout at Brendon who shakes his head.

“Listen to your sister,” he demands.

“I hate going to Brooklyn,” he says.

“Okay, well, it’s your father’s birthday and we are going to Brooklyn to celebrate it,” Brendon says, speaking slowly, as if he’s talking to a child.

“Since when do you hate going to Brooklyn?” Nikki questions as they finally begin to descend the stairs towards the subway. Marcus stays quiet and Brendon stifles a laugh. Nikki looks at him.

“Why does he suddenly hate Brooklyn?” she asks.

“Well,” Brendon laughs. “You mother is upset with him.”

“What did you do now?”

“Nothing!” Marcus insists.

“Exactly,” Brendon nods. “Nothing. She’s mad that he never calls her.”

“I’m busy!”

“Oh, Marky,” Nikki sighs. “You know our mother. She’s needy. You have to find time to call her.”

“Well, I finally did, and she wouldn’t talk to me!”

“Because she wants you to apologize,” Brendon informs him.

“How do you know?”

“She told me.”

“When did you talk to her?”

“I talk to her like, twice a week.”

“She loves Brendon more than she loves you,” Nikki laughs.

“She really does,” Brendon agrees.

“Maybe you two should just go to Brooklyn without me.”

“Nope. You’re coming. Missing your dad’s birthday would just upset your mom even more.”

“Did she tell you that, too?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “So, you’re coming.”

*

Brendon checks his watch nervously, then checks the display of arriving flights. He checks his watch again. It’s already two minutes past the arrival time. He fidgets, ringing his hands together, check the time and over and over again. He’s nervous. He isn’t entirely positive why he’s so nervous, but he is.

A stream of people begins to flow out from one area, and Brendon stands on the tips of his toes, looking over the many heads of people he doesn’t recognize, searching for one that he does. He sees him. He looks just like he did at Jon’s wedding, but he’s here, in New York, visiting him.

Brendon brings his hand up in an attempt to catch Ryan’s attention. He watches in amusement as Ryan glances all over the airport, in every direction but the one Brendon is in. Finally, he looks at him and he sees him and he smiles, heading in his direction.

“Hello!” Brendon yells out once Ryan is close enough to hear him.

“Hey!” he responds, reaching him and stopping, standing in front of him.

“You’re in New York!” Brendon exclaims.

“I’m in New York!” Ryan laughs, nodding.

“To visit me!”

“To visit you!”

“On a drunken impulse decision!”

“Yes!”

“But I’m happy you’re here!” Brendon grins, reaching out towards Ryan, pulling him into a hug and just as quickly releasing him.

“I’m happy to be here. I’m excited! I could see the city from the plane and it was so cool-looking.”

“Oh, I know, that’s such an amazing view,” Brendon nods.

“I know you’re like, a New Yorker now and everything, but you are taking me to all of the tourist stops, right?” Ryan asks.

“Of course. Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, all of that.”

“Good.”

“But first, let’s go to my apartment.”

*

“Okay, so, this is my hallway,” Brendon says as he leads Ryan through the door of his apartment. Ryan stays silent, glancing around at his new surroundings – basically exactly what he’s been doing since the second they stepped outside the airport. Brendon walks through his apartment, Ryan close behind him.

“Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom right through there, and living room, which is where you get to stay.”

“Wow. This place is…,” Ryan trails off, and Brendon nods, understanding and agreeing.

“Oh. And my favourite part,” Brendon says, stepping over to the drawn curtains in the living room and pulling them back to reveal a sliding glass door leading out to a balcony with an expansive view of the Upper East Side.

“Wow,” Ryan mutters again. Brendon grins, unlocking the sliding glass door and opening it, gesturing an invitation to Ryan to step out.

“If you do some awkward twisting and dangerous perching on the railing, you can totally see a little bit of Central Park,” Brendon explains. “And at night, you can see the lights from Times Square right over there.”

“Brendon, this is amazing,” Ryan says, and Brendon glances at him and he’s smiling, looking at him in a way that almost suggests pride, as if he’s proud of Brendon for ending up where he is. It makes his heart swell, proud of himself for making Ryan look at him this way. It’s been so long since he’s looked at him in any way. It’s weird how it can be so long since they’ve spent more than a little bit of time together, but it feels natural. Almost as if they’re picking up where they left off. But happier. At least, Brendon is happier. He doesn’t know if Ryan is or not.

“Oh! You have to meet my cat!” Brendon exclaims. Ryan lifts an eyebrow.

“You have a cat?”

“Yeah, let’s find her,” he says, leaving his balcony and going back inside. “She’s probably hiding. She’s scared of strangers at first, but then she gets used to them.”

“I didn’t know that you were a cat person,” Ryan comments.

“I’m not. But Sheila is perfect,” he shrugs, stepping into his bedroom, Ryan behind him, and he drops down to his hands and knees beside his bed, peering underneath it and spotting his cat.

“Found her!” he announces, then pats his hands against the floor, raising the pitch of his voice to talk to her. “Come here, baby. Come meet our guest! Come on out, pretty girl.”

Sheila timidly crawls out towards him, and Brendon reaches to grab her around the middle, pulling her the rest of the way out from under the bed, holding her to his chest and standing up. Ryan looks more horrified than amused at Brendon’s display of love towards the cat, but Brendon ignores it.

“This is Sheila. She is my daughter. Sheila, this is Ryan. I know you’re scared of him right now, but you’ll learn to love him.”

“Oh my god, you’re a crazy cat lady,” Ryan states.

“Yes,” Brendon nods, smiling. “But it’s hard to not be a crazy cat lady when you have a perfect, pretty kitty like Sheila.”

“Right.”

“By the time you leave, you’ll love her, too,” Brendon tells him with full confidence, turning to set Sheila down on the bed. She promptly hops off and crawls under the bed again.

“So, this is your bedroom.”

“Yes.”

“It’s nice,” Ryan says, glancing at the various decorations around the room.

“Thanks,” Brendon returns, watching as Ryan looks around, eyes stopping on a framed photo on the nightstand. Ryan moves towards it, picking it up and looking at it closer.

“Is this Paris?”

“No, it’s just a backdrop that looks exactly like Paris,” Brendon jokes. Ryan glares over at him. “Yeah, it’s Paris. Marcus took me to France for our anniversary last year.”

“So, then, I’m assuming that this must be Marcus.”

“Yep.”

“He’s black,” Ryan states, sounding surprised. Brendon finds his surprise funny but resists the urge to laugh.

“Yeah,” he nods. “He is.”

“Oh. I mean. I don’t mean. I. Um. I just. I didn’t. Um. I just wasn’t expecting him to be—I mean, wow. This is coming out terribly.”

“You pictured a white guy,” Brendon supplies for him. “Don’t worry. You aren’t the first one to make that mistake and then be surprised.”

“I’m not?”

“God, no. You should have seen Shane’s reaction when he met him for the first time. It was actually really funny.”

“You talk to Shane?” he asks, setting the photo of Brendon, Marcus, and the Eiffel Tower back on the nightstand.

“Yeah. We’re actually… really good friends now. Which kind of seems weird, looking back.”

“Yeah, kind of,” Ryan agrees with a soft laugh.

“Hey! Do you want to go see Times Square?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, let’s go!”

*

Brendon feels like he’s on a boat. Every step he takes, it feels like the floor is moving back and forth with the waves. But there are no waves. Because he’s on land. He’s been on land for several hours now after being on a boat for not very long at all. But the seemingly permanent state of being stuck in a life at sea was quite worth it for the visit to the Statue of Liberty with Ryan. It was the first part of his first full New York day, followed by much more. And now they’re headed back to Brendon’s apartment after a long day of touristy sight-seeing.

Their conversations have been casual – only bringing up happy moments from the ‘good old days’ and the nice parts from where they left off. When they return to Brendon’s apartment, they’re laughing at an old memory and they’re greeted by Marcus in the living room, sitting on the sofa with Sheila in his lap.

“Hi, guys!” he smiles at them.

“Look at our new hats!” Brendon exclaims, quickly grabbing for the two, foam Statue of Liberty crowns that he persuaded Ryan into getting with him, and hastily placing his own on his head and then turning to Ryan, reaching up to put it on him, despite his obvious look of dismay.

“Oh my god, they’re beautiful,” Marcus says to Brendon, and then looks at Ryan. “He forced you, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Ryan nods.

“Hey, if we’re going to be tourists, we’re going to go all out.”

“Well, they look great on both of you,” Marcus tells them. Ryan immediately removes his Statue of Liberty crown from his head as Brendon moves to sit down next to Marcus on the couch. Ryan takes a seat in the nearby armchair.

“What else did you guys do today?”

“We went to Madame Tussaud’s,” Brendon says. “Even though I hate it there.”

“I thought it was really cool,” Ryan interjects.

“It’s creepy!”

“It’s only creepy because you think the wax figures are going to come to life,” Marcus says. Brendon simply nods.

“Why do you think there have been horror movies based completely around wax museums?”

“It was fun, despite being accompanied by a big baby,” Ryan says.

“Of course.”

“And we took a stroll through Central Park,” Brendon continues, paying no attention to the name-calling.

“Fun,” Marcus comments.

“It was,” Ryan agrees.

“So, are you in love with New York yet, Ryan?”

“It’s pretty amazing,” he answers Marcus with a nod. Brendon smiles, absent-mindedly reaching over to pet Sheila, who is still happily seated on Marcus’s lap.

*

“Brendon. Brendon,” Marcus grumbles, nudging Brendon’s arm. Brendon doesn’t understand why he’s being woken up, especially when Marcus doesn’t seem very awake himself.

“What?”

“Your phone. It’s ringing.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, realizing that yeah, his phone is ringing.

“Tell Shane I hate him for waking me up,” Marcus says. Ryan grabs his phone, not at all surprised to see Shane’s name on the caller ID. Whenever he gets a call this late, it’s always Shane, forgetting that there is a time difference.

“You realize that it’s nearly two in the morning, right?” he answers the phone.

“Oh, is it?” Shane asks on the other end. “It’s not even eleven yet for me.”

“Lucky you.”

“I’m sorry. Were you sleeping?”

“I am usually asleep at two AM, yeah.”

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to know how Ryan in the City was going.”

“Hey, Brendon,” Marcus says sleepily from the other side of the bed. “Tell him I hate him.”

“Marcus says that he hates you,” Brendon reports.

“Aw, I love him, too.”

“Shane says that he’s really sorry and will perform any sexual act of your choice next time he sees you to make it up to you,” Brendon says.

“Well, that’s not what I said, but it’s true,” Shane says.

“Trying to think of a clever and witty response, but I’m just too tired,” Marcus says with a yawn.

“But seriously,” Shane continues. “How are things? With Ryan?”

“They’re fine. We’re having fun,” Brendon tells him.

“Is it weird at all?”

“No.”

“How are he and Marcus getting along?”

“Fine.”

“These are really boring answers, Brendon.”

“It’s two in the morning and you woke me up,” he says.

“Okay, fine. My fault. I get it.”

“Really, though. Everything is going good. He’s been here for a couple days and it’s been nice and fun and a bunch of other positive adjectives.”

“Well, that’s great. What have you guys been doing?”

“Shane, I love you, I really do, but could you maybe call again at a normal time when I’m not sleeping?” Brendon begs, hearing soft snores from Marcus, jealous of the fact that he’s asleep and he isn’t.

“Fine.”

“Thank you, you’re the best, I love you, talk to you later, okay, bye!” he says very quickly, then hanging up without waiting for a response.

*

“How have you already been here for five days? Why are you leaving tomorrow? Do you have to leave tomorrow? You should stay. You can sleep on my couch forever if you want!”

“Don’t tempt me,” Ryan laughs from across the table at the restaurant they decided to eat at for Ryan’s last New York City night.

“Just accidentally miss your flight,” Brendon suggests.

“I’m sure my boss would be thrilled with me.”

“Yeah. But seriously, you’re going to have to come visit me more often.”

“Only if you visit me more often,” Ryan says.

“Okay. We’ll visit each other more often,” Brendon agrees.

*

They drink too much wine. It’s nothing even remotely close to their level of intoxication at Jon’s wedding, but it’s enough to have them laughing and occasionally stumbling as they make their way back to Brendon’s apartment building. For a brief moment, it almost feels like they’re drunken teenagers, not even of the legal age to be drinking, and the realization that they are grown adults now seems weird and oddly depressing. Neither of them mention it.

The apartment is empty because Marcus is at work. Brendon fans himself with his hand. The summer city heat mixed with just a little bit too much alcohol and walking home has him sweating. He goes into his bedroom, collapsing on top of his bed, announcing that he is not moving until he has completely cooled off. Ryan laughs and falls down beside him.

Brendon wonders if they will actually manage to go the whole five days of Ryan’s visit without once mentioning their past failed almost-relationship. Part of him almost wants the topic to somehow come up. For closure. But the other part of him doesn’t ever want to discuss it at all.

“Okay, so, pretty much ever since I got here, I have had a really weird question to ask you,” Ryan says, laughing as he speaks.

“What?”

“You know the stereotypes or whatever… about black guys… and the size of their… you know….”

“Oh my god, you are not seriously asking this, are you?”

“I just want to know if it’s true!” Ryan laughs.

“You realize you’re asking me to tell you about my boyfriend’s penis, right?”

“It sounds perverted when you phrase it like that.”

“But it’s exactly what you’re asking,” Brendon says.

“All this is is a true or false question, okay?”

“I don’t know! I’ve only been with one black guy! It’s hard to say that it’s true for all of them when I’ve really only seen one,” he explains. “But… let’s just say that Marcus definitely falls into me… top three favourite penises.”

“You have a top three?”

“Yeah. Why? Is that weird?” Brendon asks. Ryan shrugs.

“I guess not. But now I’m curious to who the other two are.”

“Oh. Well. Um. One of them is my senior-year-of-college-friend-with-benefits,” he spills.

“You had a friend with benefits?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t those things usually end up not working?”

“It worked for me! The guy and I had absolutely nothing in common except for the fact that he both really liked to get high and have sex. And he was really sexy in a weird, dirty hippie kind of way. And he had a great penis. It was a pretty good semester.”

“Wow,” Ryan chuckles. “And the third one?”

“Oh, I don’t want to say,” Brendon says, immediately shaking his head. Ryan looks at him, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“What? Why? Who is it?” Ryan asks. Brendon lets out a laugh and continues to shake his head. Ryan looks confused for a moment, but then smiles. “Is it me?”

“Yeah,” Brendon admits, laughing louder than before.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Why would I lie about that?”

“I don’t know! Oh, wow. I’m really flattered,” Ryan says, grinning, sounding extremely amused.

“You should be.”

“I’m honoured to be up there with your hippie fuck-buddy and your black boyfriend.”

At that moment, Sheila hops up onto the bed, trotting over to Ryan and nudging her face against his. The previous conversation is dropped at Ryan chuckles, reaching up to pet her.

“Told you you’d love her,” Brendon says triumphantly.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right.”

“She seems to love you, too. Just more of a reason for you to come back a lot.”

“What, so that your cat doesn’t miss me?” Ryan laughs.

“Yeah. She has separation anxiety. She will probably cry for days when you leave,” Brendon says.

“Are you you’re talking about Sheila and not yourself?” Ryan asks.

“I didn’t say that Sheila would be the only one crying.”

Ryan laughs, but doesn’t say anything is response. They lay there quietly for a while, with Ryan seemingly concentrating on petting Sheila while Brendon just listens to the breathing and the purring. Finally, Ryan speaks again.

“How is it possible that we managers to go five years without talking?” he asks. Brendon turns to look at Ryan, but he’s staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” Brendon answers.

“I thought about you a lot.”

“I thought about you a lot, too,” he admits.

“What happened between us?” he asks. And there it is.

“I don’t know,” Brendon says, but he’s lying. He does know what happened.

“We used to be so close,” Ryan says. “How do two people who were so close end up drifting apart so easily?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon says again, but he isn’t lying this time. They both fall silent for a few moments. Brendon looks up at the ceiling and focuses his gaze there. He can hear his cat purring loudly beside him.

“When you told me that you were good friends with Shane now, I think I was kind of jealous.”

“You were?” Brendon asks, turning his head to face Ryan again, and he’s looking back at him and he nods.

“Yeah. I mean, if you and him could be friends… why not us?”

“It took a while for me and Shane,” Brendon tells him. “I didn’t really see him at all for a couple years. And when we finally did see each other… I think it was the end of my third year of college… we had both moved on from what had happened between us. But even then, it still took time.”

“Yeah….”

“After you and Jon and Spencer all stopped living together, it just got so easy for us to not see each other,” Brendon says.

“And then you moved to San Francisco.”

“And I never made any attempt to contact you.”

“Neither did I,” Ryan sighs. “It’s funny that there was a time when I honestly thought that maybe we would be together forever.”

“It’s not funny. It’s sweet.”

“It’s naïve.”

“Yeah,” Brendon nods. “But I was also naïve and thought the same thing.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did. And I wanted it to be true so badly,” he tells him. “Which… I think is part of the reason why it never happened.”

“What do you mean?” Ryan asks. Brendon takes in a breath, letting it out slowly as he looks back up at the ceiling.

“You know when I asked you to wait for me? Wait for me to be ready to finally be together?”

“Yeah.”

“And you kept waiting… and I was just never ready?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t that I wasn’t ready to be with you. Because I’m pretty sure that I was. And I wanted to be….”

“So…what happened?” Ryan asks.

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I was scared,” he finally admits. “I was so terrified that after everything we had put each other through to get to that point, we would end up not working out. I was scared that we would end up hurting each other again. And the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. So I never did anything. I kept insisting that I wasn’t ready because I was too scared. And then….”

“And then I gave up,” Ryan finishes for him. “Even though I said that I wouldn’t.”

“But I told you that it was okay. Because I just really wanted you to be happy. And part of me knew that I wasn’t going to get over my absurd fear. Even though I… did love you.”

“I guess when it comes down to it, we both made promises that we weren’t able to keep, regardless of how much we loved each other.”

“I spent a lot of time regretting it,” Brendon says.

“Me too,” Ryan nods. “Especially at times when things weren’t going so great for me.”

“Exactly,” Brendon agrees, knowing precisely what Ryan is talking about. “There would be times when I hardly though about it at all, and then all of a sudden, I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah!”

“It happened less and less over time, though.”

“Yeah, same for me.”

“I’m really happy you came here,” Brendon says. “I missed you a lot.”

“Me too. I don’t think I really even realized just how much I missed you.”

“Let’s never go five years without talking ever again.”

“Deal,” Ryan agrees.

They both end up falling asleep on Brendon’s bed with the light on and everything. When Marcus gets home, he doesn’t have the heart to wake them, so he simply turns off the lights and sleeps on the couch.