Lissa (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} picklefork) wrote,@ 2008-02-16 10:45:00 |
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In Respect Of Passing, Part Four
Title:In Respect of Passing, Part Four
Author:starflowers
Rating:PG. Nothing too heavy in this except for casual use of profanity.
Pairing:Brendon/Spencer Ryan/Jon Pete/Patrick
POV: third person, switches
Summary: An AU based on the show Teen Angel from years ago, Brendon is an angel being punished for losing his life in an attempt to rescue a kitten, and he's given the task of helping Ryan overcome his social dysfunction, win the boy of his dreams, and pass mechanics class. But nothing seems to be going as expected... This is kinda a mixture of Teen Angel, Touched By an Angel, and Casper, the Friendly Ghost.
Disclaimer: I don't know the boys or the shows or movies or anything, obviously. This isn't real.
Author Notes: This was kind of an impulsive, silly idea. It's a bit more serious than it sounds, however, because it seems that nothing Panic at the Disco does can be completely free of angst.
Ryan was sitting in his pajamas on his bed, arms crossed resolutely over his chest, mouth set in a frown, waiting. Spencer was going to pick him up in ten minutes for the race, and Ryan had not even chosen what to wear.
“Ryan,” Brendon cried, exasperated, when he appeared. “You’re not ready, you’ve got to go to this race, I swear—”
“Why have you been avoiding Spencer?”
Brendon flinched, flushing a bit. “It’s not what you think.”
“You’ve been barely speaking to me and not letting Spencer see you at all. What the fuck, Brendon.”
“I’ve been busy, I was just, Ryan, listen, okay? It’s not what you think.” But Brendon didn’t seem capable of explaining just why he’d been invisible to Spencer, and Ryan leapt off the bed.
“Don’t you dare fuck with him,” he snapped.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to speak to your angel this way,” Brendon said, backing up nervously.
“Of course I am.” Ryan’s eyes were very narrow and he came closer, voice dropping low. “You’ve just—Brendon. You hurt his feelings.”
Brendon shook his head wildly. “I didn’t. I was trying to protect him! Ryan, okay, listen, it’s so, so stupid, it was an accident, I never meant to, but he’s just—he’s amazing.” His shoulders slumped a bit. “And it doesn’t matter, because I’m…”
“Oh god,” Ryan breathed, eyes going wide now. “It isn’t that you don’t like him, it’s because you do.”
Brendon was still shaking his head, desperately now. “Ryan, I can’t. I’m dead, I can’t, I can’t even feel—I just, I want to, so, so much, I do, and I can’t, and it hurts, and everything was supposed to stop hurting after I died! It’s not fair. But I didn’t want to hurt him. I swear. Is he—he thinks I don’t like him?”
“He sat in you,” Ryan said. “Oh, shit, he’ll be here any second.” He started scrambling to get ready, all noble goals of making Brendon swear to stop ignoring Spencer gone, blown away by the startling realization that his guardian angel had a crush on his best friend.
He was breathless when Spencer pulled up in the old car from mechanics class, his shirt buttoned wrong and his pants undone as he dashed out to the car. Brendon followed more slowly, and Ryan could see by the way Spencer was deliberately not looking that he could see the angel this time.
“You’re riding with us, get in,” Ryan said, before Brendon could disappear again, and with a sign, Brendon obeyed.
The drive to the lake was all stilted silence and awkwardness. Ryan had tried to break it at first, but failed miserably and lapsed into silence, trying to think of ways to gently break the tension without screaming ‘you both like each other, so deal with it’. That would probably cause more problems, considering.
The bonfire was already blazing on the shore when they pulled up, and hundreds
of teenagers were already there. It was like a repeat of the car burner, only cars weren’t burning this time. Hopefully they could finish the race without theirs bursting into flame.
When Ryan got out of the car, Jon saw him, shouted a greeting, and had to hop over the hood of his own car, which was crowded with people, to come over and say hello. He was grinning, dressed casually, and seemed completely unconcerned that practically the entire population of the school had shown up.
“I thought just the mechanics people were coming,” Ryan said, narrowed eyes searching the crowd for Sadie and the other cheerleaders.
He shrugged. “Mostly. And their girlfriends and their girlfriends’ friends, and their girlfriends’ boyfriends. You bring your girlfriend?”
Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Haven’t got one,” he said, and Jon bit his lip, almost like he was trying not to smile and unable to help it.
“What about Spencer?” he said.
“Also not my girlfriend,” Ryan answered, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling wary.
Jon’s teeth slipped off his lip and he grinned. “Right,” he said. “Good. Great.” And it was only then that Ryan wondered if that had been Jon’s question at all. Wouldn’t it have been just as easy for Jon to have been asking about Spencer’s girlfriend, not if Spencer and Ryan were—why would Jon ask if Spencer was with Ryan, unless— Before his jumbled thoughts could sort themselves out, Spencer and Brendon got out of the car, and Jon cocked his head a bit.
“Never seen him before,” he said, studying Brendon, and Ryan realized that, for the first time, someone other than Spencer could see the angel.
“Brendon,” he said. “A friend. Uhm, okay, let’s get this race over with, okay?”
“You got somewhere to be afterwards?”
Ryan hesitated. He should lie, he really should, but he slowly shook his head. “Just nervous,” he said, which was true. Jon made him shake all over.
Brendon and Spencer were having a furious argument by the gas tank, and Ryan watched closely, wondering if they were resolving their issues. Apparently they weren’t, because Brendon tossed something into the gas tank and Spencer got his bitchiest look crossing his arms and glowering.
“You gonna ride with Spencer or watch?” Jon asked. He hadn’t noticed the scuffle over the gas tank at all.
“Ride,” he said absently, still trying to figure what the hell was going on.
“I’ve a better idea,” Jon said, flashing that grin again, and Ryan’s eyes went kinda weak.
“Hmm?”
“Ride with me.”
Before Ryan could argue, Jon had him by the arm and was dragging him back to his car. “C’mon!” he called, laughing. “You want to win, don’t you? Then you’ve gotta ride with me. And we’d better get this over with before it starts raining again.”
Ryan was breathless, somehow held captive in the faux leather interior of Jon’s car, doing up his seatbelt. “I thought you said rain makes it more interesting,” he said.
“Well, yeah, but also more dangerous. Don’t want you or Spencer getting hurt, I’d feel like an ass for making up this whole racing tradition bullshit just to get you to come to the lake with me.”
“What?”
Jon just grinned again, turning the key in the ignition and easing his car over to Brendon and Spencer. “We’ll start up there, where Sadie’s holding the flag, under that street light. You ready?”
Spencer blinked at Ryan trying to look casual in Jon’s front seat, and Brendon’s face brightened into a smile. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I’m riding with you, Spencer.” It wasn’t a question.
There was no question in Ryan’s mind that Jon was about to slaughter Spencer in this race, and he felt a bit guilty for switching sides. It wasn’t like he had a choice, though, really—if he had, of course he’d have chosen Spencer. Of course.
Jon rolled down all the windows for effect, gunned the engine, switched gears, and looked over. “Ready?” he asked, still smiling.
Ryan’s throat went dry and he only nodded, forcing himself to look away. Jon leaned out the window as Spencer pulled up and shouted, “Just around the curve up ahead, passed the tree, and into the parking lot!” Ryan couldn’t hear Spencer’s reply.
“Don’t get motion sick, do you?” Jon teased, and before Ryan could answer, the flag was dropped and the race began.
It was over sooner than Ryan could believe, forty seconds of blurred scenery, wind in his hair and his face, and the dizzying feeling of too much pavement passing beneath the car.
The shocking thing was that Jon lost. Spencer and Ryan’s car beat his by at least five seconds, was already parked and waiting when Jon’s car sped into the parking lot.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck,” Jon said, beaming, turning to Ryan after he’d turned the ignition off. “Holy shit, Ryan, your car just kicked my ass, holy shit, did you see that?”
“Uhm,” Ryan said, kind of startled by all the energy pouring off Jon, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry? I seriously don’t know how that happened.”
“We need to celebrate!” Jon cried, turning the car on again and speeding back to the start line. “Have a drink, dance on the beach, whatever. This is amazing. I expected you guys to lose and me to spend the rest of the evening consoling you while being subtly smug about my mechanical brilliance. But this is better!”
**
It didn’t matter that there were so many people on the shore of the lake, or that the music was irritating, or that Ryan hadn’t really seen Spencer and Brendon in a while. He was sitting in the sand next to Jon, who had given Ryan a can of Coke after he’d confessed that he didn’t like been. Their hips were touching, and that was almost enough to make Ryan’s head explode. Other people kept coming up to talk to Jon, some even acknowledged Ryan, but, despite how many tried to get Jon’s attention and call him away, Jon refused to leave Ryan’s side.
They were talking, and Ryan had even relaxed a bit and regained the ability to form complete sentences, which usually deserted him when Jon was near. They were sitting near the fire, and the orange light was bouncing all over, the heat of it lulling Ryan into a relaxed, zen-like state, that was completely shattered when Jon turned to him, moved a bit closer, and touched his shoulder.
“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” he asked, smiling. “I’m not that boring.”
“No,” Ryan said, answering the smile with one of his own. “I’m good.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You really made up this racing tradition?”
“Yeah,” Jon confessed.
“Why?”
“You left the car burner so fast, I wanted to get you to come out with me again.”
Ryan frowned a little. “I don’t get why.”
“Okay.” Jon took a swallow of Coke, considered for a moment, and then said, “You blush every time you look at me. You can talk to Spencer for the entire hour of mechanics class and can’t form a full sentence when I talk to you. I’ve caught you staring at me more times than I can count, and you’re pretty much gorgeous.”
Ryan cleared his throat and said in a low tone, “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“You wouldn’t,” Jon snorted, and then he kissed him, one hand on the back of Ryan’s neck, the other on Ryan’s knee. It was a warm, coaxing kiss, one Ryan could have broken at any moment, but he didn’t. He didn’t respond to the kiss either, though, and after a few seconds, Jon pulled away with a small puff of breath, and whispered, “I guess I read it wrong?”
Ryan panicked. “No, god, wait, let me try again,” he said quickly, leaning in to kiss him this time, losing his balance and falling against Jon’s chest. His kiss was certainly less hesitant, though he was shaking because he’d never thought, in all his years of infatuated daydreams, that it would ever come to this.
Jon caught his wrists, steadied him, kissed him back, smiling against his lips, and Ryan was so, so dizzy. He had to break away to breathe, eyes huge in the flickering firelight. “You made out with a cheerleader,” he whispered, breath brushing Jon’s mouth.
“You left so fast you missed the part where I finally got her off of me and chased after you, calling your name like an infatuated idiot.” He tried to look embarrassed, but Jon couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “I want to kiss you again.”
Ryan’s grin was crooked, bright, and he nodded, bumping Jon’s nose. “Okay,” he said.
It started to rain and Ryan didn’t even notice.
**
Brendon had wanted people to see him, because he was with Spencer, and couldn’t seem to muster the energy to avoid him anymore. He hurt Spencer if he stayed away, and ran the risk of hurting him more if he stayed, and he didn’t know what to do anymore. So he mingled with the others at the bonfire, pretending he was a normal kid, that he hadn’t died, that he was looking to hook up with one of the girls who expressed interest. He hadn’t intended to seek Spencer out but kept gravitating towards him instinctively, though Spencer seemed to do his best to avoid him, standing alone on the fringes of the crowd, waiting until Ryan wanted to go home. He’d probably be waiting quite a while, as, last Brendon had seen, Ryan was sitting close to Jon and they were talking softly, ignoring everyone around them.
Finally giving up on the pretense of being normal, Brendon wandered away from the crowd, following the perimeter of the lake. A wharf had rotted away near the edge of the sandy beach, a few weak boards still standing, the rest long gone, and Brendon sat on the edge, his feet bare and dangling in the water. He couldn’t feel it and he didn’t cast a reflection on the surface of the water.
He had no idea how long he sat there before Spencer sighed and sat down heavily beside him, rolling up his pant legs, tossing his shoes aside, and dangling his feet as well. He kicked at the water a little and Brendon watched, before turning to look at him.
“It wasn’t cheating,” he said, continuing their argument from earlier. “It was a gift from an angel, we were supposed to use it. We won, didn’t we?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, shoulders slumped, still staring down at the surface of the lake. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“You alright?”
“Perfect.” He smiled a bit sadly, still refusing to look at Brendon, who leaned closer, nudging him with a shoulder.
“Not enjoying the party?” he asked, faintly teasing.
“No.” Spencer finally turned and smiled a little at him. “You?”
“No.”
They were quiet for a little while, and then Spencer said, “What was it like, when you died?”
“It hurt,” he admitted, after giving it some thought. “I panicked and it hurt and then there was nothing, but I was still scared. And then I just… wasn’t.”
Spencer considered that for a moment, and then ducked his head again, asking softly, “Can you feel it when other angels touch you?”
Brendon licked his lips, looking away, wondering what Spencer meant by asking a question like that. “No.”
“Do you miss it?” Spencer was looking at him again and Brendon was powerless to deny him that, and turned his head to meet his eyes.
“Yeah. More than anything,” he whispered hoarsely. He winced, because angels weren’t meant to feel like this, he knew, and yet, he couldn’t help it.
Spencer kicked droplets of water, drawing Brendon’s eyes down again, to Spencer’s reflection.
“I can’t see you on the surface of the water,” Spencer said quietly. And then it started to rain, a sudden shower that broke up the smooth lake.
Brendon smiled, turning to look at him, and said, “There, now I can’t see yours either.”
“Why were you avoiding me?” Spencer asked in a small voice, glancing over at him through his lashes, through a fringe of wet hair.
“Because I really wanted to be with you,” Brendon whispered because he couldn’t help it. “Spencer…”
Spencer’s breathing turned shaky and he seemed unable to look away. He touched Brendon’s chest, and Brendon could only feel a vague sense of pressure, no other sensation. Already, Spencer’s hair and face were streaming with rainwater, and Brendon couldn’t feel it at all. He wanted to, god, he did. He closed his eyes, trying to block it out, but Spencer moved his hands up to his face, tracing the line of his jaw, his nose, and his cheek, and it felt like brushes of feathers, without heat or weight or anything, just the faintest hint of sensation that was not really touch at all.
“Tell me you can feel this,” Spencer begged, his palms on either side of Brendon’s jaw, and Brendon’s eyes flew open in panic when he realized what Spencer intended, but it was too late. Spencer kissed Brendon so, so gently, as if he was sure that Brendon would just disappear without warning, as if he didn’t want to scare him. Brendon knew all that, could see all of it, but couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel Spencer’s lips, couldn’t feel the rush of sensation he was pretty sure was meant to accompany a kiss, especially a kiss from a boy as beautiful as Spencer, who made Brendon’s chest ache—but there was nothing.
He’d never been kissed before, and here he was, in the rain, by a lake, with Spencer’s mouth on his, and there was nothing.
“Please,” he whispered, and he shook on a sob. “I can’t, Spencer, I can’t, please, there’s nothing, please, you have to stop, I’m so, so sorry, I just…” Brendon’s voice cracked and he closed his eyes, and there weren’t any tears, though there should have been. If he were alive, there would have been. “I can’t, Spencer, I can’t feel it, when you touch me. I can’t—I can’t taste it.”
Spencer was quiet, but Brendon could hear his shaky breathing, his chest hitching with the force of it. Then Spencer’s hands were gone from Brendon’s face and all he heard were Spencer’s bare, feet slapping on the wet wharf as he ran into the darkness.
**
If Ryan had kept count, this would have been about their seventh kiss. They’d talked a bit, kissed again, talked some more, while the fire hissed from the rain and most of the other students hurried home to escape the rain. Ryan didn’t care how wet he got, because Jon tasted like Coke and rain and it was fucking amazing.
But then Spencer was there, tripping over his own feet, panting, and cry, grabbing Ryan’s arm and collapsing against him, face pressed to Ryan’s neck, and Jon didn’t matter anymore.
“Spencer, god, Spence, what is it?” he asked, holding onto Spencer, trying to stop his shaking. “What happened?”
Spencer’s face was still buried against Ryan’s neck, his voice muffled, trembling. “I need to go home, Ry, I’m going home, okay?”
“Okay. But tell me what happened.”
“He couldn’t feel it, Ryan, he begged me to stop because he couldn’t feel it, I hurt him, he wanted to feel it, and he couldn’t, he couldn’t taste it.”
“You kissed Brendon,” Ryan whispered, wincing. “Oh, god, we’ll go home, it’ll be okay, Spencer, I swear. Is—Is Brendon okay?”
Spencer only made a muffled, whimpering sound and clung more tightly to him.
“I’ll take you,” Jon said quietly, and Ryan had forgotten he was there. “He can’t drive like this. C’mon.”
They got their things, though for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t find Spencer’s shoes and eventually gave up trying.
**
Spencer’s shoes were sitting in a sandy pile in Ryan’s bedroom, and Ryan nudged them into the closet with his foot before Spencer saw them and freaked out again, because Brendon had obviously left them there for him.
Though he made a good show of being alright, Spencer’s nervous energy and efforts to seem unaffected wore him down fairly quickly and he fell asleep on Ryan’s bed, stretched out on his stomach, clutching a pillow like a child, and Ryan didn’t have the strength to wake him up and send him home. Besides, Spencer had left the mechanics car at the lake and didn’t have a ride home anyway.
Ryan had suffered insomnia for years, and that night wasn't any different. He didn't have any idea how to fix this, and Spencer had been fixing his own problems for so long that there was barely anything that Ryan wanted more than to fix this for him. But there wasn't anything he could do. Spencer had finally been thrown off balance enough to fall for someone, and he had to pick someone who was dead. He wondered if maybe they could make it work, if touching was really that important, but he'd only been able to touch Jon for one night and already Ryan knew he couldn't stand it if he couldn't touch him anymore.
When his back started cramping from curling up in the armchair in the corner of his room, Ryan got up and prowled the room, pausing by the window. He kept expecting Brendon to show up and he hadn’t.
“Brendon?” Ryan whispered, glancing around the room. He was never sure if Brendon could hear him, was lurking somewhere invisible, or maybe just knew when Ryan wanted him to show up, but it seemed to work, sometimes.
There was no reply this time, and Ryan called his name again, a little louder. This time, there was a muffled reply from inside the closet.
Ryan opened the door and found Brendon curled up on the floor, hugging his knees and nearly hidden amongst the hanging shirts.
“Is Spencer okay?” he asked in a tiny voice.
“Are you? How long have you been lurking in my closet? God, Brendon, you’re going to give me nightmares.”
“Not long. I just, I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I started thinking, and we’ve done it, haven’t we? We’ve managed to get you to overcome your social dysfunction to win the affections of the guy you’ve been half in love with for years. So I’ve done it. I’ve earned my wings. Haven’t I?” He certainly didn’t look triumphant at the thought.
“Are you going to come out?” Ryan asked, and Brendon shook his head. “You can’t honestly expect me to come hang out with you in the closet.” Even as he grumbled, Ryan was falling to his knees, crawling inside. There wasn’t much room and Brendon closed the door, leaving it open a bit so that a sliver of light fell across his face.
“The thing is,” Brendon confessed. “What if earning my wings mean I’m done being your angel? What if I never get to come back?” He darted a quick glance at the flash of light, as if he could see Spencer through the closet door and whispered, “I don’t want that to happen.”
Ryan winced. “Are you sure that would happen?”
“I don’t know anything anymore.” There was some shuffling, and Brendon was suddenly pressed against him, head on Ryan’s shoulder. It startled him a bit, because Ryan wasn’t much for casual physical contact, but he relaxed a moment later and wrapped his arm around Brendon’s shoulders.
“Spencer’s never done this before,” Ryan said quietly. “He usually just… avoids any potentially painful situations by being bitchy.”
“I noticed that,” Brendon said with a little laugh, and Ryan smiled a bit. Before he could reply, the closet door flew open and Spencer stood there, eyes narrowed with sleep and suspicion, pillow lines on his face, his hair wild, and a blanket around his shoulders.
“Do not,” he said, his voice sounded stuffy, like he had a cold. He crawled into the closet and curled up against Brendon, leaning heavily against him. “Also, fuck you, Brendon, and that fucking kitten too.”
Brendon muffled a little snicker against the side of Ryan’s neck, and Spencer closed the door again, so that it was dark, and they were curled up together like kittens. In the closet. Ryan closed his eyes and restrained the urge to sigh, because this was all so ridiculous.
“Would you have done it, even if you knew you’d die?” he asked Brendon absently, because he could hear Spencer shifting in the darkness, cuddling up to Brendon, and wanted to stop himself and Brendon from thinking about it. Ryan couldn’t help but wonder how strange it would be, not to feel.
“I couldn’t let the kitten die,” Brendon said quietly. “Who the fuck throws kittens in plastic bags into rivers? It’s insane, and I don’t care if Pete says I’m being punished for losing my life to save a kitten—” Brendon tensed suddenly and then hissed, “Oh, fuck that, fuck it.”
Spencer sat up and said uncertainly, “Are you okay?”
“They did this on purpose,” Brendon snarled, and then he was gone, so suddenly that Spencer fell sideways, collapsing on Ryan, and it took a few moments for then to figure out exactly what happened.
“He left?” Spencer finally said, stunned.
“Apparently. Oh, shit, Spence.”
“What? I mean, he’ll come back, right? Right, Ryan?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t know. He said he was finished, he helped me, he got his wings or whatever, he might not get to come back, Spencer, god, he’s such an idiot, I’m sorry, I—”
But whatever Ryan meant to say was lost as Spencer got very, very angry, and kicked a hole in the closet wall.
**
Pete was waiting for him, and for once, the tv was off. Brendon didn’t care.
“You fucker,” he snapped. “You knew this would happen, you knew. You sent me to Ryan because you knew about Spencer and you knew I’d want him and that’s my punishment for saving that kitten and dying!” He was so furious that he wanted to break something, but was pretty much certain that nothing in Pete’s apartment was breakable. Besides, Pete was glowing and had massive feathery wings behind him, and there were just certain people you shouldn’t mess with. Pete in full angel mode was one of them.
“You died saving a kitten,” Pete said mildly, looking very serious for once. “A kitten, Brendon. Was it worth it?”
He opened his mouth for a quick, furious reply, and then hesitated. If Brendon hadn’t jumped into that river after the drowning kitten, if he hadn’t died… he’d never have met Spencer and Ryan at all. And if he hadn’t done that, he’d still be that stupid, blind kid who went to school every day, spent a week at a time in the woods with friends who didn’t notice he was gone, whose family was so busy and so big that they didn’t even think to send out a search party. He’d be nothing. And he wouldn’t even have had the few days he’d had with Ryan and Spencer, feeling needed for the first time, and wanted. People usually pushed Brendon away, sick of how insistent he was on being physically close, and because he’d died, there was finally, finally someone who wanted, more than anything, to touch him.
“Yes,” he said thickly. “It was worth it. But god, it hurts.”
Pete smiled a tiny bit and shrugged. “It’s supposed to. I want to show you something.”
He took Brendon’s hand and a moment later, they were standing in the rain that neither could feel, in front of a small, clumsily kept home in the middle of a city Brendon didn’t recognize. There was an overgrown patch of daffodils and daisies in front of a window, and the flickering light of a television shone from inside the house, even though it must have been nearly midnight. Pete stepped closer, squinting into the house, and gesturing for Brendon to follow.
Inside the house, sitting on the edge of a couch and staring blankly at a late night horror movie, a guy Brendon had never seen before looked heartbreakingly lonely.
“That’s Patrick,” Pete said quietly, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “He tried to save me. Stay over to the side so he doesn’t see you.”
There was something on Pete’s face, in his eyes and his small smile that made Brendon stay silent, unsure of what to say, even as he moved aside.
“He was everything. He’d saved me at least a dozen times…” Pete trailed off helplessly. “But he only had to screw it up once for it to be over, I guess.”
“What happened?” Brendon whispered, shivering a little was rainwater began to run off the ends of his hair, down his neck.
“I was self-destructive, he tried to make me see it, I was fucking blind. It was an accident, he wasn’t there that night, the only time he wasn’t, because his mother was sick, and I took too much, drank too much, tried to drive. Whatever, tragic story, right? A stupid accident. I was stupid.”
Brendon looked back at Patrick, who was moving restlessly now, seeming to be looking for something. His hands were trembling a little and he kept looking at the window, lost and confused, as if he could sense someone watching but couldn’t see it.
“How long ago?” Brendon asked.
“About a month.” Pete turned to Brendon with a wry smile. “We all get punished, Brendon. Patrick’s mine, I get to take care of him now, and the only thing he wants more than anything in the world is me, and it’s the one thing he can’t have.”
“Then how did you get your wings?” Brendon asked with a frown, aching for Pete and for Patrick.
Pete jerked his chin at the window again, and Brendon looked, blinking rain out of his eyes. Just as Patrick seemed about to come close to the window to look out, a sound caught his attention and he turned. A fluffy bundle of gray fur tumbled into the room, meowing pitifully and Patrick scooped her up, falling back onto the couch and laughing a bit as the kitten cuddled up against his neck.
“God,” Brendon breathed, because he knew that kitten. “How—”
“That fucking kitten,” Pete laughed, though it was a painful sound. “God, Brendon, you fucking died to save a kitten, what did you want me to do, leave it on the bank of the river? She was soaked straight through, and shivering, and… And Patrick was so lonely.”
Brendon’s eyes were wide, watching as Patrick curled up with the kitten, seeming much more content now, though his eyes strayed more to the window than the vampires on the television. “Does he know you’re his angel?” he asked, pressing closer, so his nose was flattened on the cold glass.
“No. I don’t deserve that,” Pete said bitterly.
“But he probably does. You should tell him—can you?”
“I can let anyone see me, same as you,” Pete said with a shrug. “But I don’t want to.”
“He deserves it, I think,” Brendon said quietly, turning away from the window, glancing at Pete. “So this is it for you? You blame yourself so you’re gonna spend forever staring through Patrick’s window watching him cuddle a kitten I died saving? That’s kind of pathetic.”
“Yeah?” Pete rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”
“We’re both a bit pathetic, actually, if you get punished for self-destructing by hurting like this, and I—”
“Brendon.”
“—can’t ever feel Spencer—”
“Brendon. I lied to you, Brendon.”
Brendon blinked, frowning a bit. “About what? God, Pete, I’ve done it, I’ve helped Ryan, I meant to ask, if I get my wings, do I need to leave—”
“I lied. Brendon, seriously. Listen. I lied.” He moved closer, dropping his voice to a whisper, eyes wide, worried, like he was worried he was about to break Brendon to pieces. “You were never Ryan’s angel, Brendon. Never.”
“What—but—Ryan and Jon, I—”
“You were Spencer’s, Brendon. Spencer needed you, not Ryan, Ryan’s got Spencer, he’s never needed anyone but Spencer…”
Brendon just stared at him blankly, unable to understand what Pete was saying, and Pete sighed. He reached up, brushed at the rain running down Brendon’s cheek, and leaned closer, saying, “There’s only one thing that Spencer wants right now, more than anything, and it’s for you to be able to feel him touch you, Brendon.” And then he flashed a wicked grin, dropped his voice, closer now as if he meant to kiss him, and added almost playfully, “And no one has ever been punished for saving the life of a kitten.”
Pete was gone a heartbeat later and Brendon was left standing alone in front of Patrick’s window, arms crossed over his chest as he shivered from cold.
He was freezing.
**
Wednesday came and went and Thursday followed. It was Friday, and Spencer had given up on Brendon coming back. He hadn’t seen the angel since Wednesday night, in the closet, and he’d told Ryan that if Brendon popped up and was avoiding Spencer again, to tell him that Spencer would kick his ass if he didn’t smarten up. Still, Ryan confessed he hadn’t seen him at all, and Spencer was doing his best not to think about it.
Still, two days was not a very long time at all to get over that night at the lake, which had been one of the most painful and embarrassing nights that Spencer had ever had. Jon, who he’d seen more of lately than ever before, seemed alright, though, not mocking Spencer for having a complete meltdown in front of him, in fact seemed concerned and genuinely like he was one of the best guys ever, which made things easier. He wasn’t stealing Ryan away, which was also nice, and seemed content to share him. Spencer had never confessed his secret worries that Jon would steal Ryan away and keep him in a box under his bed or something and that Spencer would never see him again.
But despite getting to know and adore Jon, despite Ryan’s blindingly sickening happiness, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a little hollow inside.
So on Friday, when Ryan bounced into the chair across from him in the cafeteria and said brightly, “So, tonight’s this dance, thing, in the school gym, how lame is that, want to go?” Spencer just looked at him blankly.
He hadn’t known there was a school dance that night and, quite frankly, didn’t care either way. Dances were not his thing, and until Jon, they hadn’t been Ryan’s either. “No?” he said.
“Here’s the thing,” Ryan said solemnly. “My dad’ll only let me go if you go, because apparently you’ll keep me from doing something stupid, like, I don’t know, having promiscuous gay sex or smoking joints in the bathroom. Even though you’re younger than me. He technically is unaware of the fabulousness of Jon, and expects I can’t go without you anyway, as I’d need a ride, soooo, I can’t really confess to him that any promiscuous gay sex would be with Jon, who is older than me, and rather scruffy.”
“Promiscuous—you and—you’ve—What?”
Ryan laughed, and Spencer just scowled. “Of course we haven’t. But I need you, Spence, because I need to go to this stupid thing. If I don’t, Jon’ll end up making out with Sadie or whatever and that would be tragic.”
There was a heartbeat of time in which Spencer considered confessing that he had plans to eat ice cream and sleep all weekend, but that was pretty pathetic, and he’d never let Ryan down before, so he gave in with a little bit of grace. “I hate you. But fine. As long as there’s no promiscuous gay sex when I’m around. Because I’d be scarred for life.”
Ryan grinned. “You’re fantastic, seriously,” he said happily, and Spencer was a bit soothed by this new, bouncy, happy Ryan.
He glanced out the window at the heavily falling rain and his shoulders slumped. It seemed like it had been raining for days and days.
**
The dance was the typical high school thing. It was dark, there was a smoke machine that smelled of baby powder, a DJ was on the stage playing dance music while girls grinded with each other, and a teacher chaperone was selling cans of pop and chips in the hall. Jon and Ryan were somewhere on the smoky dance floor, and Spencer was standing against the wall near the emergency exit, which was open, letting in the scent of rain and fresh air. His head was beginning to ache and he was trying to think of a good excuse to give Ryan before slipping away and going home.
Spencer pushed up off the wall and scanned the crowd for Ryan, and found Brendon instead.
“Spencer,” he said hoarsely, eyes huge and dark, hair plastered around his face as puddles of rainwater ran off his body. He shivered, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. “Can I keep you?”
It took a moment for Spencer to react, he’d been so sure he’d never see Brendon again, and then he was tugging his hoodie off, cursing faintly and saying, “Yeah-- You’re soaked, god, Brendon, you’ll catch your death…” He trailed off, frowning in confusion, even as Brendon took the hoodie from him with a murmured thanks, biting his bottom lip, watching Spencer almost shyly through his lashes and tendrils of soaking wet hair.
“Brendon,” Spencer said faintly. “Brendon, you can’t feel the rain. You don’t get wet.”
Pulling the hoodie over his head and down over his chest, Brendon hesitated and then said with a helpless shrug, “I’m fucking freezing, Spencer.”
“I don’t understand,” Spencer whispered. He reached forward, touching Brendon’s hand, which was warm, slick with rain, and solid.
“No one gets punished for saving a kitten.” Brendon’s voice was husky. “I don’t think I’m dead anymore.”
Spencer laughed brokenly, shook his head, and didn’t understand how the hell Brendon could be alive now when he certainly wasn’t before. It didn’t matter, because a week and a half ago, he didn’t believe in angels either, so this wasn’t so farfetched. “I don’t get it,” he said stepping closer, hesitant, worried now that this wasn’t real, though surely the idea of Brendon standing in front of him alive made more sense than Brendon standing in front of him dead.
“It doesn’t matter,” Brendon whispered, reaching out, fingertips grazing Spencer’s throat. “I would have come back sooner but I was in fucking Chicago, and then my family—apparently they had noticed I was gone, thought I was a runaway and I—”
He didn’t get to explain anymore because that tentative touch was all it took for Spencer to break. He kissed Brendon, tasting the rain on his mouth, feeling it with trembling hands as he ran his fingers through Brendon’s wet hair, down his wet back, trying to touch him everywhere because everywhere he touched made Brendon shiver, like he was starved for it. And Brendon kissed him back, and they were both laughing or crying, Spencer didn’t know, only that this was perfect and wet and Brendon was wrapped up and warm in Spencer’s sweater and smelled of him now and could feel him.
Spencer pulled away to breathe, forehead resting on Brendon’s damp shoulder, one arm curled possessively around his waist. “Told you I could be your angel if you wanted me to,” Brendon said breathlessly, making Spencer laugh all over again.
**
It wasn’t raining anymore.
Pete scuffed his perfectly clean, white sneakers on the front step and hesitated a moment to smooth his hair and his wings before knocking on the door. He could have just blinked inside, but this seemed more fitting, and less likely to give Patrick a heart attack. He shouldn’t be doing this, Pete knew. This was not part of his punishment, he was meant to hurt, but somehow he thought this might make him hurt even more.
But Patrick had done him a favour—a million favours, the most recent being driving Brendon back to Vegas, and… well, mostly, Pete missed him. A hell of a lot.
He wondered, as he waited for Patrick to get out of bed, find some pants, and come answer the door, if maybe this wasn’t part of the punishment he was suffering for having allowed his own stupidity to cause his self-destruction. Maybe this was something else, something Pete hadn’t given himself permission to think about in the time since he’d died. Maybe this was something else Brendon had done, when he’d saved that kitten.
Patrick had spent his whole life trying to save Pete, and maybe now, this was his chance. Maybe, finally, this was his chance to find forgiveness.
If Brendon had taught him anything, it was to believe in miracles.
The End.
Title:In Respect of Passing, Part Four
Author:
starflowersRating:PG. Nothing too heavy in this except for casual use of profanity.
Pairing:Brendon/Spencer Ryan/Jon Pete/Patrick
POV: third person, switches
Summary: An AU based on the show Teen Angel from years ago, Brendon is an angel being punished for losing his life in an attempt to rescue a kitten, and he's given the task of helping Ryan overcome his social dysfunction, win the boy of his dreams, and pass mechanics class. But nothing seems to be going as expected... This is kinda a mixture of Teen Angel, Touched By an Angel, and Casper, the Friendly Ghost.
Disclaimer: I don't know the boys or the shows or movies or anything, obviously. This isn't real.
Author Notes: This was kind of an impulsive, silly idea. It's a bit more serious than it sounds, however, because it seems that nothing Panic at the Disco does can be completely free of angst.
Ryan was sitting in his pajamas on his bed, arms crossed resolutely over his chest, mouth set in a frown, waiting. Spencer was going to pick him up in ten minutes for the race, and Ryan had not even chosen what to wear.
“Ryan,” Brendon cried, exasperated, when he appeared. “You’re not ready, you’ve got to go to this race, I swear—”
“Why have you been avoiding Spencer?”
Brendon flinched, flushing a bit. “It’s not what you think.”
“You’ve been barely speaking to me and not letting Spencer see you at all. What the fuck, Brendon.”
“I’ve been busy, I was just, Ryan, listen, okay? It’s not what you think.” But Brendon didn’t seem capable of explaining just why he’d been invisible to Spencer, and Ryan leapt off the bed.
“Don’t you dare fuck with him,” he snapped.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to speak to your angel this way,” Brendon said, backing up nervously.
“Of course I am.” Ryan’s eyes were very narrow and he came closer, voice dropping low. “You’ve just—Brendon. You hurt his feelings.”
Brendon shook his head wildly. “I didn’t. I was trying to protect him! Ryan, okay, listen, it’s so, so stupid, it was an accident, I never meant to, but he’s just—he’s amazing.” His shoulders slumped a bit. “And it doesn’t matter, because I’m…”
“Oh god,” Ryan breathed, eyes going wide now. “It isn’t that you don’t like him, it’s because you do.”
Brendon was still shaking his head, desperately now. “Ryan, I can’t. I’m dead, I can’t, I can’t even feel—I just, I want to, so, so much, I do, and I can’t, and it hurts, and everything was supposed to stop hurting after I died! It’s not fair. But I didn’t want to hurt him. I swear. Is he—he thinks I don’t like him?”
“He sat in you,” Ryan said. “Oh, shit, he’ll be here any second.” He started scrambling to get ready, all noble goals of making Brendon swear to stop ignoring Spencer gone, blown away by the startling realization that his guardian angel had a crush on his best friend.
He was breathless when Spencer pulled up in the old car from mechanics class, his shirt buttoned wrong and his pants undone as he dashed out to the car. Brendon followed more slowly, and Ryan could see by the way Spencer was deliberately not looking that he could see the angel this time.
“You’re riding with us, get in,” Ryan said, before Brendon could disappear again, and with a sign, Brendon obeyed.
The drive to the lake was all stilted silence and awkwardness. Ryan had tried to break it at first, but failed miserably and lapsed into silence, trying to think of ways to gently break the tension without screaming ‘you both like each other, so deal with it’. That would probably cause more problems, considering.
The bonfire was already blazing on the shore when they pulled up, and hundreds
of teenagers were already there. It was like a repeat of the car burner, only cars weren’t burning this time. Hopefully they could finish the race without theirs bursting into flame.
When Ryan got out of the car, Jon saw him, shouted a greeting, and had to hop over the hood of his own car, which was crowded with people, to come over and say hello. He was grinning, dressed casually, and seemed completely unconcerned that practically the entire population of the school had shown up.
“I thought just the mechanics people were coming,” Ryan said, narrowed eyes searching the crowd for Sadie and the other cheerleaders.
He shrugged. “Mostly. And their girlfriends and their girlfriends’ friends, and their girlfriends’ boyfriends. You bring your girlfriend?”
Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Haven’t got one,” he said, and Jon bit his lip, almost like he was trying not to smile and unable to help it.
“What about Spencer?” he said.
“Also not my girlfriend,” Ryan answered, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling wary.
Jon’s teeth slipped off his lip and he grinned. “Right,” he said. “Good. Great.” And it was only then that Ryan wondered if that had been Jon’s question at all. Wouldn’t it have been just as easy for Jon to have been asking about Spencer’s girlfriend, not if Spencer and Ryan were—why would Jon ask if Spencer was with Ryan, unless— Before his jumbled thoughts could sort themselves out, Spencer and Brendon got out of the car, and Jon cocked his head a bit.
“Never seen him before,” he said, studying Brendon, and Ryan realized that, for the first time, someone other than Spencer could see the angel.
“Brendon,” he said. “A friend. Uhm, okay, let’s get this race over with, okay?”
“You got somewhere to be afterwards?”
Ryan hesitated. He should lie, he really should, but he slowly shook his head. “Just nervous,” he said, which was true. Jon made him shake all over.
Brendon and Spencer were having a furious argument by the gas tank, and Ryan watched closely, wondering if they were resolving their issues. Apparently they weren’t, because Brendon tossed something into the gas tank and Spencer got his bitchiest look crossing his arms and glowering.
“You gonna ride with Spencer or watch?” Jon asked. He hadn’t noticed the scuffle over the gas tank at all.
“Ride,” he said absently, still trying to figure what the hell was going on.
“I’ve a better idea,” Jon said, flashing that grin again, and Ryan’s eyes went kinda weak.
“Hmm?”
“Ride with me.”
Before Ryan could argue, Jon had him by the arm and was dragging him back to his car. “C’mon!” he called, laughing. “You want to win, don’t you? Then you’ve gotta ride with me. And we’d better get this over with before it starts raining again.”
Ryan was breathless, somehow held captive in the faux leather interior of Jon’s car, doing up his seatbelt. “I thought you said rain makes it more interesting,” he said.
“Well, yeah, but also more dangerous. Don’t want you or Spencer getting hurt, I’d feel like an ass for making up this whole racing tradition bullshit just to get you to come to the lake with me.”
“What?”
Jon just grinned again, turning the key in the ignition and easing his car over to Brendon and Spencer. “We’ll start up there, where Sadie’s holding the flag, under that street light. You ready?”
Spencer blinked at Ryan trying to look casual in Jon’s front seat, and Brendon’s face brightened into a smile. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I’m riding with you, Spencer.” It wasn’t a question.
There was no question in Ryan’s mind that Jon was about to slaughter Spencer in this race, and he felt a bit guilty for switching sides. It wasn’t like he had a choice, though, really—if he had, of course he’d have chosen Spencer. Of course.
Jon rolled down all the windows for effect, gunned the engine, switched gears, and looked over. “Ready?” he asked, still smiling.
Ryan’s throat went dry and he only nodded, forcing himself to look away. Jon leaned out the window as Spencer pulled up and shouted, “Just around the curve up ahead, passed the tree, and into the parking lot!” Ryan couldn’t hear Spencer’s reply.
“Don’t get motion sick, do you?” Jon teased, and before Ryan could answer, the flag was dropped and the race began.
It was over sooner than Ryan could believe, forty seconds of blurred scenery, wind in his hair and his face, and the dizzying feeling of too much pavement passing beneath the car.
The shocking thing was that Jon lost. Spencer and Ryan’s car beat his by at least five seconds, was already parked and waiting when Jon’s car sped into the parking lot.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck,” Jon said, beaming, turning to Ryan after he’d turned the ignition off. “Holy shit, Ryan, your car just kicked my ass, holy shit, did you see that?”
“Uhm,” Ryan said, kind of startled by all the energy pouring off Jon, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry? I seriously don’t know how that happened.”
“We need to celebrate!” Jon cried, turning the car on again and speeding back to the start line. “Have a drink, dance on the beach, whatever. This is amazing. I expected you guys to lose and me to spend the rest of the evening consoling you while being subtly smug about my mechanical brilliance. But this is better!”
**
It didn’t matter that there were so many people on the shore of the lake, or that the music was irritating, or that Ryan hadn’t really seen Spencer and Brendon in a while. He was sitting in the sand next to Jon, who had given Ryan a can of Coke after he’d confessed that he didn’t like been. Their hips were touching, and that was almost enough to make Ryan’s head explode. Other people kept coming up to talk to Jon, some even acknowledged Ryan, but, despite how many tried to get Jon’s attention and call him away, Jon refused to leave Ryan’s side.
They were talking, and Ryan had even relaxed a bit and regained the ability to form complete sentences, which usually deserted him when Jon was near. They were sitting near the fire, and the orange light was bouncing all over, the heat of it lulling Ryan into a relaxed, zen-like state, that was completely shattered when Jon turned to him, moved a bit closer, and touched his shoulder.
“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” he asked, smiling. “I’m not that boring.”
“No,” Ryan said, answering the smile with one of his own. “I’m good.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You really made up this racing tradition?”
“Yeah,” Jon confessed.
“Why?”
“You left the car burner so fast, I wanted to get you to come out with me again.”
Ryan frowned a little. “I don’t get why.”
“Okay.” Jon took a swallow of Coke, considered for a moment, and then said, “You blush every time you look at me. You can talk to Spencer for the entire hour of mechanics class and can’t form a full sentence when I talk to you. I’ve caught you staring at me more times than I can count, and you’re pretty much gorgeous.”
Ryan cleared his throat and said in a low tone, “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“You wouldn’t,” Jon snorted, and then he kissed him, one hand on the back of Ryan’s neck, the other on Ryan’s knee. It was a warm, coaxing kiss, one Ryan could have broken at any moment, but he didn’t. He didn’t respond to the kiss either, though, and after a few seconds, Jon pulled away with a small puff of breath, and whispered, “I guess I read it wrong?”
Ryan panicked. “No, god, wait, let me try again,” he said quickly, leaning in to kiss him this time, losing his balance and falling against Jon’s chest. His kiss was certainly less hesitant, though he was shaking because he’d never thought, in all his years of infatuated daydreams, that it would ever come to this.
Jon caught his wrists, steadied him, kissed him back, smiling against his lips, and Ryan was so, so dizzy. He had to break away to breathe, eyes huge in the flickering firelight. “You made out with a cheerleader,” he whispered, breath brushing Jon’s mouth.
“You left so fast you missed the part where I finally got her off of me and chased after you, calling your name like an infatuated idiot.” He tried to look embarrassed, but Jon couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “I want to kiss you again.”
Ryan’s grin was crooked, bright, and he nodded, bumping Jon’s nose. “Okay,” he said.
It started to rain and Ryan didn’t even notice.
**
Brendon had wanted people to see him, because he was with Spencer, and couldn’t seem to muster the energy to avoid him anymore. He hurt Spencer if he stayed away, and ran the risk of hurting him more if he stayed, and he didn’t know what to do anymore. So he mingled with the others at the bonfire, pretending he was a normal kid, that he hadn’t died, that he was looking to hook up with one of the girls who expressed interest. He hadn’t intended to seek Spencer out but kept gravitating towards him instinctively, though Spencer seemed to do his best to avoid him, standing alone on the fringes of the crowd, waiting until Ryan wanted to go home. He’d probably be waiting quite a while, as, last Brendon had seen, Ryan was sitting close to Jon and they were talking softly, ignoring everyone around them.
Finally giving up on the pretense of being normal, Brendon wandered away from the crowd, following the perimeter of the lake. A wharf had rotted away near the edge of the sandy beach, a few weak boards still standing, the rest long gone, and Brendon sat on the edge, his feet bare and dangling in the water. He couldn’t feel it and he didn’t cast a reflection on the surface of the water.
He had no idea how long he sat there before Spencer sighed and sat down heavily beside him, rolling up his pant legs, tossing his shoes aside, and dangling his feet as well. He kicked at the water a little and Brendon watched, before turning to look at him.
“It wasn’t cheating,” he said, continuing their argument from earlier. “It was a gift from an angel, we were supposed to use it. We won, didn’t we?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said, shoulders slumped, still staring down at the surface of the lake. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“You alright?”
“Perfect.” He smiled a bit sadly, still refusing to look at Brendon, who leaned closer, nudging him with a shoulder.
“Not enjoying the party?” he asked, faintly teasing.
“No.” Spencer finally turned and smiled a little at him. “You?”
“No.”
They were quiet for a little while, and then Spencer said, “What was it like, when you died?”
“It hurt,” he admitted, after giving it some thought. “I panicked and it hurt and then there was nothing, but I was still scared. And then I just… wasn’t.”
Spencer considered that for a moment, and then ducked his head again, asking softly, “Can you feel it when other angels touch you?”
Brendon licked his lips, looking away, wondering what Spencer meant by asking a question like that. “No.”
“Do you miss it?” Spencer was looking at him again and Brendon was powerless to deny him that, and turned his head to meet his eyes.
“Yeah. More than anything,” he whispered hoarsely. He winced, because angels weren’t meant to feel like this, he knew, and yet, he couldn’t help it.
Spencer kicked droplets of water, drawing Brendon’s eyes down again, to Spencer’s reflection.
“I can’t see you on the surface of the water,” Spencer said quietly. And then it started to rain, a sudden shower that broke up the smooth lake.
Brendon smiled, turning to look at him, and said, “There, now I can’t see yours either.”
“Why were you avoiding me?” Spencer asked in a small voice, glancing over at him through his lashes, through a fringe of wet hair.
“Because I really wanted to be with you,” Brendon whispered because he couldn’t help it. “Spencer…”
Spencer’s breathing turned shaky and he seemed unable to look away. He touched Brendon’s chest, and Brendon could only feel a vague sense of pressure, no other sensation. Already, Spencer’s hair and face were streaming with rainwater, and Brendon couldn’t feel it at all. He wanted to, god, he did. He closed his eyes, trying to block it out, but Spencer moved his hands up to his face, tracing the line of his jaw, his nose, and his cheek, and it felt like brushes of feathers, without heat or weight or anything, just the faintest hint of sensation that was not really touch at all.
“Tell me you can feel this,” Spencer begged, his palms on either side of Brendon’s jaw, and Brendon’s eyes flew open in panic when he realized what Spencer intended, but it was too late. Spencer kissed Brendon so, so gently, as if he was sure that Brendon would just disappear without warning, as if he didn’t want to scare him. Brendon knew all that, could see all of it, but couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel Spencer’s lips, couldn’t feel the rush of sensation he was pretty sure was meant to accompany a kiss, especially a kiss from a boy as beautiful as Spencer, who made Brendon’s chest ache—but there was nothing.
He’d never been kissed before, and here he was, in the rain, by a lake, with Spencer’s mouth on his, and there was nothing.
“Please,” he whispered, and he shook on a sob. “I can’t, Spencer, I can’t, please, there’s nothing, please, you have to stop, I’m so, so sorry, I just…” Brendon’s voice cracked and he closed his eyes, and there weren’t any tears, though there should have been. If he were alive, there would have been. “I can’t, Spencer, I can’t feel it, when you touch me. I can’t—I can’t taste it.”
Spencer was quiet, but Brendon could hear his shaky breathing, his chest hitching with the force of it. Then Spencer’s hands were gone from Brendon’s face and all he heard were Spencer’s bare, feet slapping on the wet wharf as he ran into the darkness.
**
If Ryan had kept count, this would have been about their seventh kiss. They’d talked a bit, kissed again, talked some more, while the fire hissed from the rain and most of the other students hurried home to escape the rain. Ryan didn’t care how wet he got, because Jon tasted like Coke and rain and it was fucking amazing.
But then Spencer was there, tripping over his own feet, panting, and cry, grabbing Ryan’s arm and collapsing against him, face pressed to Ryan’s neck, and Jon didn’t matter anymore.
“Spencer, god, Spence, what is it?” he asked, holding onto Spencer, trying to stop his shaking. “What happened?”
Spencer’s face was still buried against Ryan’s neck, his voice muffled, trembling. “I need to go home, Ry, I’m going home, okay?”
“Okay. But tell me what happened.”
“He couldn’t feel it, Ryan, he begged me to stop because he couldn’t feel it, I hurt him, he wanted to feel it, and he couldn’t, he couldn’t taste it.”
“You kissed Brendon,” Ryan whispered, wincing. “Oh, god, we’ll go home, it’ll be okay, Spencer, I swear. Is—Is Brendon okay?”
Spencer only made a muffled, whimpering sound and clung more tightly to him.
“I’ll take you,” Jon said quietly, and Ryan had forgotten he was there. “He can’t drive like this. C’mon.”
They got their things, though for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t find Spencer’s shoes and eventually gave up trying.
**
Spencer’s shoes were sitting in a sandy pile in Ryan’s bedroom, and Ryan nudged them into the closet with his foot before Spencer saw them and freaked out again, because Brendon had obviously left them there for him.
Though he made a good show of being alright, Spencer’s nervous energy and efforts to seem unaffected wore him down fairly quickly and he fell asleep on Ryan’s bed, stretched out on his stomach, clutching a pillow like a child, and Ryan didn’t have the strength to wake him up and send him home. Besides, Spencer had left the mechanics car at the lake and didn’t have a ride home anyway.
Ryan had suffered insomnia for years, and that night wasn't any different. He didn't have any idea how to fix this, and Spencer had been fixing his own problems for so long that there was barely anything that Ryan wanted more than to fix this for him. But there wasn't anything he could do. Spencer had finally been thrown off balance enough to fall for someone, and he had to pick someone who was dead. He wondered if maybe they could make it work, if touching was really that important, but he'd only been able to touch Jon for one night and already Ryan knew he couldn't stand it if he couldn't touch him anymore.
When his back started cramping from curling up in the armchair in the corner of his room, Ryan got up and prowled the room, pausing by the window. He kept expecting Brendon to show up and he hadn’t.
“Brendon?” Ryan whispered, glancing around the room. He was never sure if Brendon could hear him, was lurking somewhere invisible, or maybe just knew when Ryan wanted him to show up, but it seemed to work, sometimes.
There was no reply this time, and Ryan called his name again, a little louder. This time, there was a muffled reply from inside the closet.
Ryan opened the door and found Brendon curled up on the floor, hugging his knees and nearly hidden amongst the hanging shirts.
“Is Spencer okay?” he asked in a tiny voice.
“Are you? How long have you been lurking in my closet? God, Brendon, you’re going to give me nightmares.”
“Not long. I just, I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I started thinking, and we’ve done it, haven’t we? We’ve managed to get you to overcome your social dysfunction to win the affections of the guy you’ve been half in love with for years. So I’ve done it. I’ve earned my wings. Haven’t I?” He certainly didn’t look triumphant at the thought.
“Are you going to come out?” Ryan asked, and Brendon shook his head. “You can’t honestly expect me to come hang out with you in the closet.” Even as he grumbled, Ryan was falling to his knees, crawling inside. There wasn’t much room and Brendon closed the door, leaving it open a bit so that a sliver of light fell across his face.
“The thing is,” Brendon confessed. “What if earning my wings mean I’m done being your angel? What if I never get to come back?” He darted a quick glance at the flash of light, as if he could see Spencer through the closet door and whispered, “I don’t want that to happen.”
Ryan winced. “Are you sure that would happen?”
“I don’t know anything anymore.” There was some shuffling, and Brendon was suddenly pressed against him, head on Ryan’s shoulder. It startled him a bit, because Ryan wasn’t much for casual physical contact, but he relaxed a moment later and wrapped his arm around Brendon’s shoulders.
“Spencer’s never done this before,” Ryan said quietly. “He usually just… avoids any potentially painful situations by being bitchy.”
“I noticed that,” Brendon said with a little laugh, and Ryan smiled a bit. Before he could reply, the closet door flew open and Spencer stood there, eyes narrowed with sleep and suspicion, pillow lines on his face, his hair wild, and a blanket around his shoulders.
“Do not,” he said, his voice sounded stuffy, like he had a cold. He crawled into the closet and curled up against Brendon, leaning heavily against him. “Also, fuck you, Brendon, and that fucking kitten too.”
Brendon muffled a little snicker against the side of Ryan’s neck, and Spencer closed the door again, so that it was dark, and they were curled up together like kittens. In the closet. Ryan closed his eyes and restrained the urge to sigh, because this was all so ridiculous.
“Would you have done it, even if you knew you’d die?” he asked Brendon absently, because he could hear Spencer shifting in the darkness, cuddling up to Brendon, and wanted to stop himself and Brendon from thinking about it. Ryan couldn’t help but wonder how strange it would be, not to feel.
“I couldn’t let the kitten die,” Brendon said quietly. “Who the fuck throws kittens in plastic bags into rivers? It’s insane, and I don’t care if Pete says I’m being punished for losing my life to save a kitten—” Brendon tensed suddenly and then hissed, “Oh, fuck that, fuck it.”
Spencer sat up and said uncertainly, “Are you okay?”
“They did this on purpose,” Brendon snarled, and then he was gone, so suddenly that Spencer fell sideways, collapsing on Ryan, and it took a few moments for then to figure out exactly what happened.
“He left?” Spencer finally said, stunned.
“Apparently. Oh, shit, Spence.”
“What? I mean, he’ll come back, right? Right, Ryan?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t know. He said he was finished, he helped me, he got his wings or whatever, he might not get to come back, Spencer, god, he’s such an idiot, I’m sorry, I—”
But whatever Ryan meant to say was lost as Spencer got very, very angry, and kicked a hole in the closet wall.
**
Pete was waiting for him, and for once, the tv was off. Brendon didn’t care.
“You fucker,” he snapped. “You knew this would happen, you knew. You sent me to Ryan because you knew about Spencer and you knew I’d want him and that’s my punishment for saving that kitten and dying!” He was so furious that he wanted to break something, but was pretty much certain that nothing in Pete’s apartment was breakable. Besides, Pete was glowing and had massive feathery wings behind him, and there were just certain people you shouldn’t mess with. Pete in full angel mode was one of them.
“You died saving a kitten,” Pete said mildly, looking very serious for once. “A kitten, Brendon. Was it worth it?”
He opened his mouth for a quick, furious reply, and then hesitated. If Brendon hadn’t jumped into that river after the drowning kitten, if he hadn’t died… he’d never have met Spencer and Ryan at all. And if he hadn’t done that, he’d still be that stupid, blind kid who went to school every day, spent a week at a time in the woods with friends who didn’t notice he was gone, whose family was so busy and so big that they didn’t even think to send out a search party. He’d be nothing. And he wouldn’t even have had the few days he’d had with Ryan and Spencer, feeling needed for the first time, and wanted. People usually pushed Brendon away, sick of how insistent he was on being physically close, and because he’d died, there was finally, finally someone who wanted, more than anything, to touch him.
“Yes,” he said thickly. “It was worth it. But god, it hurts.”
Pete smiled a tiny bit and shrugged. “It’s supposed to. I want to show you something.”
He took Brendon’s hand and a moment later, they were standing in the rain that neither could feel, in front of a small, clumsily kept home in the middle of a city Brendon didn’t recognize. There was an overgrown patch of daffodils and daisies in front of a window, and the flickering light of a television shone from inside the house, even though it must have been nearly midnight. Pete stepped closer, squinting into the house, and gesturing for Brendon to follow.
Inside the house, sitting on the edge of a couch and staring blankly at a late night horror movie, a guy Brendon had never seen before looked heartbreakingly lonely.
“That’s Patrick,” Pete said quietly, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “He tried to save me. Stay over to the side so he doesn’t see you.”
There was something on Pete’s face, in his eyes and his small smile that made Brendon stay silent, unsure of what to say, even as he moved aside.
“He was everything. He’d saved me at least a dozen times…” Pete trailed off helplessly. “But he only had to screw it up once for it to be over, I guess.”
“What happened?” Brendon whispered, shivering a little was rainwater began to run off the ends of his hair, down his neck.
“I was self-destructive, he tried to make me see it, I was fucking blind. It was an accident, he wasn’t there that night, the only time he wasn’t, because his mother was sick, and I took too much, drank too much, tried to drive. Whatever, tragic story, right? A stupid accident. I was stupid.”
Brendon looked back at Patrick, who was moving restlessly now, seeming to be looking for something. His hands were trembling a little and he kept looking at the window, lost and confused, as if he could sense someone watching but couldn’t see it.
“How long ago?” Brendon asked.
“About a month.” Pete turned to Brendon with a wry smile. “We all get punished, Brendon. Patrick’s mine, I get to take care of him now, and the only thing he wants more than anything in the world is me, and it’s the one thing he can’t have.”
“Then how did you get your wings?” Brendon asked with a frown, aching for Pete and for Patrick.
Pete jerked his chin at the window again, and Brendon looked, blinking rain out of his eyes. Just as Patrick seemed about to come close to the window to look out, a sound caught his attention and he turned. A fluffy bundle of gray fur tumbled into the room, meowing pitifully and Patrick scooped her up, falling back onto the couch and laughing a bit as the kitten cuddled up against his neck.
“God,” Brendon breathed, because he knew that kitten. “How—”
“That fucking kitten,” Pete laughed, though it was a painful sound. “God, Brendon, you fucking died to save a kitten, what did you want me to do, leave it on the bank of the river? She was soaked straight through, and shivering, and… And Patrick was so lonely.”
Brendon’s eyes were wide, watching as Patrick curled up with the kitten, seeming much more content now, though his eyes strayed more to the window than the vampires on the television. “Does he know you’re his angel?” he asked, pressing closer, so his nose was flattened on the cold glass.
“No. I don’t deserve that,” Pete said bitterly.
“But he probably does. You should tell him—can you?”
“I can let anyone see me, same as you,” Pete said with a shrug. “But I don’t want to.”
“He deserves it, I think,” Brendon said quietly, turning away from the window, glancing at Pete. “So this is it for you? You blame yourself so you’re gonna spend forever staring through Patrick’s window watching him cuddle a kitten I died saving? That’s kind of pathetic.”
“Yeah?” Pete rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”
“We’re both a bit pathetic, actually, if you get punished for self-destructing by hurting like this, and I—”
“Brendon.”
“—can’t ever feel Spencer—”
“Brendon. I lied to you, Brendon.”
Brendon blinked, frowning a bit. “About what? God, Pete, I’ve done it, I’ve helped Ryan, I meant to ask, if I get my wings, do I need to leave—”
“I lied. Brendon, seriously. Listen. I lied.” He moved closer, dropping his voice to a whisper, eyes wide, worried, like he was worried he was about to break Brendon to pieces. “You were never Ryan’s angel, Brendon. Never.”
“What—but—Ryan and Jon, I—”
“You were Spencer’s, Brendon. Spencer needed you, not Ryan, Ryan’s got Spencer, he’s never needed anyone but Spencer…”
Brendon just stared at him blankly, unable to understand what Pete was saying, and Pete sighed. He reached up, brushed at the rain running down Brendon’s cheek, and leaned closer, saying, “There’s only one thing that Spencer wants right now, more than anything, and it’s for you to be able to feel him touch you, Brendon.” And then he flashed a wicked grin, dropped his voice, closer now as if he meant to kiss him, and added almost playfully, “And no one has ever been punished for saving the life of a kitten.”
Pete was gone a heartbeat later and Brendon was left standing alone in front of Patrick’s window, arms crossed over his chest as he shivered from cold.
He was freezing.
**
Wednesday came and went and Thursday followed. It was Friday, and Spencer had given up on Brendon coming back. He hadn’t seen the angel since Wednesday night, in the closet, and he’d told Ryan that if Brendon popped up and was avoiding Spencer again, to tell him that Spencer would kick his ass if he didn’t smarten up. Still, Ryan confessed he hadn’t seen him at all, and Spencer was doing his best not to think about it.
Still, two days was not a very long time at all to get over that night at the lake, which had been one of the most painful and embarrassing nights that Spencer had ever had. Jon, who he’d seen more of lately than ever before, seemed alright, though, not mocking Spencer for having a complete meltdown in front of him, in fact seemed concerned and genuinely like he was one of the best guys ever, which made things easier. He wasn’t stealing Ryan away, which was also nice, and seemed content to share him. Spencer had never confessed his secret worries that Jon would steal Ryan away and keep him in a box under his bed or something and that Spencer would never see him again.
But despite getting to know and adore Jon, despite Ryan’s blindingly sickening happiness, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a little hollow inside.
So on Friday, when Ryan bounced into the chair across from him in the cafeteria and said brightly, “So, tonight’s this dance, thing, in the school gym, how lame is that, want to go?” Spencer just looked at him blankly.
He hadn’t known there was a school dance that night and, quite frankly, didn’t care either way. Dances were not his thing, and until Jon, they hadn’t been Ryan’s either. “No?” he said.
“Here’s the thing,” Ryan said solemnly. “My dad’ll only let me go if you go, because apparently you’ll keep me from doing something stupid, like, I don’t know, having promiscuous gay sex or smoking joints in the bathroom. Even though you’re younger than me. He technically is unaware of the fabulousness of Jon, and expects I can’t go without you anyway, as I’d need a ride, soooo, I can’t really confess to him that any promiscuous gay sex would be with Jon, who is older than me, and rather scruffy.”
“Promiscuous—you and—you’ve—What?”
Ryan laughed, and Spencer just scowled. “Of course we haven’t. But I need you, Spence, because I need to go to this stupid thing. If I don’t, Jon’ll end up making out with Sadie or whatever and that would be tragic.”
There was a heartbeat of time in which Spencer considered confessing that he had plans to eat ice cream and sleep all weekend, but that was pretty pathetic, and he’d never let Ryan down before, so he gave in with a little bit of grace. “I hate you. But fine. As long as there’s no promiscuous gay sex when I’m around. Because I’d be scarred for life.”
Ryan grinned. “You’re fantastic, seriously,” he said happily, and Spencer was a bit soothed by this new, bouncy, happy Ryan.
He glanced out the window at the heavily falling rain and his shoulders slumped. It seemed like it had been raining for days and days.
**
The dance was the typical high school thing. It was dark, there was a smoke machine that smelled of baby powder, a DJ was on the stage playing dance music while girls grinded with each other, and a teacher chaperone was selling cans of pop and chips in the hall. Jon and Ryan were somewhere on the smoky dance floor, and Spencer was standing against the wall near the emergency exit, which was open, letting in the scent of rain and fresh air. His head was beginning to ache and he was trying to think of a good excuse to give Ryan before slipping away and going home.
Spencer pushed up off the wall and scanned the crowd for Ryan, and found Brendon instead.
“Spencer,” he said hoarsely, eyes huge and dark, hair plastered around his face as puddles of rainwater ran off his body. He shivered, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. “Can I keep you?”
It took a moment for Spencer to react, he’d been so sure he’d never see Brendon again, and then he was tugging his hoodie off, cursing faintly and saying, “Yeah-- You’re soaked, god, Brendon, you’ll catch your death…” He trailed off, frowning in confusion, even as Brendon took the hoodie from him with a murmured thanks, biting his bottom lip, watching Spencer almost shyly through his lashes and tendrils of soaking wet hair.
“Brendon,” Spencer said faintly. “Brendon, you can’t feel the rain. You don’t get wet.”
Pulling the hoodie over his head and down over his chest, Brendon hesitated and then said with a helpless shrug, “I’m fucking freezing, Spencer.”
“I don’t understand,” Spencer whispered. He reached forward, touching Brendon’s hand, which was warm, slick with rain, and solid.
“No one gets punished for saving a kitten.” Brendon’s voice was husky. “I don’t think I’m dead anymore.”
Spencer laughed brokenly, shook his head, and didn’t understand how the hell Brendon could be alive now when he certainly wasn’t before. It didn’t matter, because a week and a half ago, he didn’t believe in angels either, so this wasn’t so farfetched. “I don’t get it,” he said stepping closer, hesitant, worried now that this wasn’t real, though surely the idea of Brendon standing in front of him alive made more sense than Brendon standing in front of him dead.
“It doesn’t matter,” Brendon whispered, reaching out, fingertips grazing Spencer’s throat. “I would have come back sooner but I was in fucking Chicago, and then my family—apparently they had noticed I was gone, thought I was a runaway and I—”
He didn’t get to explain anymore because that tentative touch was all it took for Spencer to break. He kissed Brendon, tasting the rain on his mouth, feeling it with trembling hands as he ran his fingers through Brendon’s wet hair, down his wet back, trying to touch him everywhere because everywhere he touched made Brendon shiver, like he was starved for it. And Brendon kissed him back, and they were both laughing or crying, Spencer didn’t know, only that this was perfect and wet and Brendon was wrapped up and warm in Spencer’s sweater and smelled of him now and could feel him.
Spencer pulled away to breathe, forehead resting on Brendon’s damp shoulder, one arm curled possessively around his waist. “Told you I could be your angel if you wanted me to,” Brendon said breathlessly, making Spencer laugh all over again.
**
It wasn’t raining anymore.
Pete scuffed his perfectly clean, white sneakers on the front step and hesitated a moment to smooth his hair and his wings before knocking on the door. He could have just blinked inside, but this seemed more fitting, and less likely to give Patrick a heart attack. He shouldn’t be doing this, Pete knew. This was not part of his punishment, he was meant to hurt, but somehow he thought this might make him hurt even more.
But Patrick had done him a favour—a million favours, the most recent being driving Brendon back to Vegas, and… well, mostly, Pete missed him. A hell of a lot.
He wondered, as he waited for Patrick to get out of bed, find some pants, and come answer the door, if maybe this wasn’t part of the punishment he was suffering for having allowed his own stupidity to cause his self-destruction. Maybe this was something else, something Pete hadn’t given himself permission to think about in the time since he’d died. Maybe this was something else Brendon had done, when he’d saved that kitten.
Patrick had spent his whole life trying to save Pete, and maybe now, this was his chance. Maybe, finally, this was his chance to find forgiveness.
If Brendon had taught him anything, it was to believe in miracles.
The End.
