Like seagulls on crack (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} beggarsnotes) wrote,@ 2008-09-28 11:42:00 |
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| Current music: | The Get Up Kids - Valentine |
In the Sidelines [5/5]
Title: In the Sidelines
Author: arctic_grey
Rating: overall R
Pairing: Joncer
POV: 3rd, Jon’s
Summary: In a world where Brent never left the band and Jon never had anything to do with the Chicago music scene, Jon is forced to go to a Panic at the Disco gig against his will. He is not expecting to fall head first for a man named Spencer, and neither is he expecting the whirlwind that comes along with dating a star.
Beta: spazzyskittles, thank you once again for doing such a fantastic job. You own my soul.
Disclaimer: Not real, obviously never happened.
Author Notes: Thanks to st_andrews_fall for her general awesomeness, postcard harassment and passenger seat skills, thanks to buildyourwalls for un-HughGranting this story and being totez fantastic, and thanks to my f-list for listening to me whine about this story and helping me out, you guys are wonderful. Thank you all for reading. <3
I | II | III | IV
V
“Wow…” Tom muttered and looked down at the table between them, his eyes wide at the news.
Jon said nothing, simply taking another sip of the beer bottle. He had broken up with Spencer, the drummer of Panic at the Disco, an unofficial sex god, the incredibly witty, sharp, intelligent, insightful, successful Spencer Smith. Jon had said, “No, thanks,” after a bit over six months of dating him, having been acquainted with Spencer only a little while longer. Joanna would kill him, naturally, but so far it didn’t seem like she had gotten the news. Good. Jon didn’t want to deal with her hysterics right now anyway.
He didn’t know why Tom was surprised. He knew Tom had seen it coming more clearly than he had. He had ended it a week ago and hadn’t heard from Spencer at all. It was a good thing, obviously, that it had ended nice and neatly… but Spencer hadn’t called him or texted him or emailed him or any of it. Their relationship had ceased to exist in the blink of an eye.
“I dunno, man,” Jon sighed. He had been thinking about his motives behind the act, and he had many of them. “What was I thinking, anyway?” he asked no one in particular. “Getting into a relationship when I was starting my last year, a terrible idea. It’s like... I met him and stopped thinking. Threw my brain out of the window,” he said in disapproval, motioning the removal of his brain with his free hand. It had been a bit of fun, dating a rock star for a while. Fun, yes.
Tom said nothing at all, and Jon was trying to ignore the fact that, again, they were in the same bar he had brought Spencer to the night they met. They really needed a change of scene; there was bound to be other decent bars in Chicago.
Jon went on to justify it further. “Totally different life situations, too. Spencer had his own house. He had money. Like, fuck, even his clothes were so expensive, and all of mine are years old. Not to mention we never saw each other, and it was just two different worlds. I liked him a lot, yeah, but it just… didn’t feel like it was worth it anymore. Wouldn’t have been fair to put either one of us through it.”
“Yeah,” Tom said weakly and forced a smile. “Just a shame you two split up before I got the chance to give Spencer my demo.”
Jon laughed along with Tom, thinking that this was the start of his new life. It felt bad. He felt empty and hollow and lost, and he missed Spencer.
“And like you said,” Jon continued and forced the hurtful words out, “I was just rebound for him anyway…”
Tom shrugged, and Jon wondered why Tom looked so sad. He saw pity in Tom’s gaze, and something in it hit home painfully hard. “I made the right decision,” Jon said firmly, but the words came out rushed and panicked. “Right?”
Tom nodded but kept his eyes fixed on the other side of the room. “Yeah… you made the right decision.”
What Tom meant was that he would stick by Jon even if Jon had fucked up.
It was a quiet day in the sports store, and Jon was behind the counter, filling out an intern application. His co-worker was in the shoes section, arranging the Nike and Adidas arrivals. Jon wasn’t thinking about Spencer or about the fact that he hadn’t heard from him and that he never would. Ever. But he had known that too.
He concentrated on the application in front of him, wanting to send it off soon. He was in a bad mood. He had been in a bad mood ever since he had become single again. Fuck, he was thinking of Spencer again. Goddammit.
He kept filling in his details as he heard footsteps approaching and asked a bored, “How can I help you?”
“I was wondering where your asshole ex-boyfriend section is.”
Jon’s head snapped up, and he was face to face with Ryan Ross, who stood there with huge sunglasses over his eyes and his lips in a thin, white line.
“Ryan,” Jon said in shock, stating the obvious. Ryan was looking at him or so Jon assumed because he couldn’t see through the sunglasses. Spencer’s best friend, Jon’s ex-boyfriend’s best friend was most likely glaring at him. Jon stuttered. “A-Aren’t you su-supposed to be in Texas?”
“We’re playing Austin tomorrow, but we’re having a day off today.”
Jon blinked. He had never expected to see any of the Panic boys again, let alone Ryan. He nodded like he understood, but he didn’t understand at all. “What are you doing here?” he asked, dumbstruck.
“I want to talk to you,” the guitarist stated simply. Ryan had flown across the country on his one day off to talk to Jon? Hadn’t the man heard of phones?
Jon swallowed something nonexistent in his throat. “I finish in two hours.”
“Fine,” Ryan said decisively. “I’ll wait. I’m assuming this mall has a food court?”
“Take a left and then down the stairs.”
Ryan nodded and took off the sunglasses. “Two hours,” he said, as if hinting that Jon might flee the scene. Ryan walked out of the shop, and Jon stared. He had a feeling he was in deep shit.
Two hours later and Jon had calmed down. Ryan had said he wanted to talk to Jon, not that he wanted to beat Jon into a bloody mess. But Jon was nervous trying to figure out what Ryan was after. Was it about the money he owed Spencer? Or was he there just to tell Jon he was an asshole? Jon didn’t know.
He had his sports store shirt on under his jacket when he found Ryan reading a book in the food court. The musician had actually waited for Jon to get off work, like he wasn’t one of the busiest rock stars in contemporary music.
Jon sat down opposite Ryan and cleared his throat. He had recovered from the shock, and he could have an honest man-to-man talk with Ryan if that was what Ryan wanted. Ryan looked up and closed the book, his sunglasses now resting on his head.
“What did you want to talk about?” Jon asked as Ryan seemed to stare at him quizzically, like he was in no hurry at all but much rather wanted to contemplate the situation.
“Spencer met his ex-girlfriend like he met you, at one of our shows,” Ryan finally said in a rehearsed manner. Jon nodded, letting Ryan know that he was listening. He had known that already anyway. Ryan sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I thought you were rebound.”
Jon might have chuckled but didn’t under the current circumstances. He simply nodded again and sarcastically noted, “You should meet my friend Tom. You’d like him.” Ryan arched an eyebrow. “He told me the exact same thing,” Jon admitted. “He was probably right too.”
“He wasn’t. We weren’t right,” Ryan said, and his voice was full of accusation. “We’ve been through a lot as a band. Trust me, we’ve been through a lot of shit. We have witnessed each other’s meltdowns as well as the high points, but... when you left him in a fucking voicemail, Jon, that just might have been the most fucked up night in the history of the band. I’ve known Spencer since I can remember, and I’ve never seen him break down like that.”
It was a bit harder for Jon to breathe. Ryan probably saw the blood leave Jon’s face because he continued slowly, as if to make sure Jon was grasping the situation. “If you’ve been hoping he’d call you? He hasn’t because he broke his phone, throwing it across the room.”
“Look –”
“You broke his heart.”
Jon had to take a moment to pull himself together. He had not been expecting to hear any of this. He thought Spencer had been fine with his decision. “I never meant to hurt him.”
“But you did,” Ryan countered instantly.
“I’m sure he underst –”
“He doesn’t!” Ryan cut him off angrily before sighing and leaning back against the chair. Ryan looked away and bit his lip like he was the one who had got burned. “I’ve given him time. I’ve been fucking waiting, but he’s not feeling any better. He won’t talk to me,” Ryan muttered in defeat. “He won’t talk to any of us.”
“I don’t see what I can do,” Jon said, forcing himself to think rationally. “It’s not my business anymore.”
Jon kept staring at his hands, which he had clasped together. Ryan had torn the few stitches he had made on his own broken heart, and he didn’t know what to do.
“Look at you,” Ryan said with a short, angry laugh. “You’re shaking right now.”
Jon moved to rest his hands on his lap where Ryan couldn’t see them trembling. “It wasn’t an easy decision,” he whispered, sneaking a glance at Ryan. At long last, Ryan’s expression seemed to soften.
“Look,” the guitarist began, “we’re taking a break after we finish this tour, six months at least. At least. Spencer’s gonna have nothing but free time.”
“He probably needs a break,” Jon agreed conversationally, and Ryan gave him a don’t-fucking-play-dumb look. “I live across the country,” Jon stated. “I’m busy as hell. It doesn’t change anything!”
“It does!” Ryan argued. “You met him at a really bad time, that’s all. You know he’d spend every second of those six months in Chicago if you just said the word!”
“It’s not just the distance!” Jon objected, feeling the need to defend himself. “When we started it, we both agreed to keep it private. But it wasn’t, it never was.”
Ryan sighed heavily. “Spencer should have known better than to agree to something like that. The publicity,” Ryan said and made a vague hand movement that might have indicated distaste or indifference, “comes with it, and there is no escaping it. You never get used it, but you learn to live with it.”
“Oh, yeah? You get used to strangers bashing you and judging you based on who you’re dating?”
“Fuck them,” Ryan said firmly. “All of that is said by a bunch of immature teenage girls who are most likely just jealous that Spencer is seeing you and not them. And for what it’s worth, for every fan bashing you, there’s one who thinks you two are soulmates. You can’t keep it one hundred percent private, but so what? Don’t you want the world to know he’s yours, do your primitive caveman thing?”
“My primitive caveman thing?” Jon asked, somehow managing to be amused.
“You know all guys want to guard what’s theirs. Let the world know he’s yours!” Ryan said loudly, insistently, making Jon feel like he was nothing but a stubborn kid who had been acting out. Ryan let out a breath, and it was unusual to see Ryan show that much emotion; Jon had spent enough time around the guitarist to know that. “Because you know what I think?”
“What?” Jon asked, and his voice had gone surprisingly quiet.
“I think that he might be yours.”
The sudden thought of Spencer being his, Spencer’s smiles and laugh and blue eyes and sharp comments all belonging to Jon, almost had Jon breaking down with a sudden urge to jump up and shout in joy. “You make it sound so simple,” Jon whispered as something resembling hope sparked up in his heart, the world seemingly full of possibilities.
“It is simple. We both know Spencer is worth all the bullshit that comes along with this show.”
Jon never would have thought that Ryan’s intention was to tell Jon to make things right. The guitarist kept his eyes on Jon, having stated his case and argued it well enough to make Jon feel terrified. Had he made the biggest mistake of his life?
“And what happens after your break?” Jon asked and received a shrug.
“We start practising, make another album, tour the world a few times, and Spencer will never be around. That’s not gonna change,” Ryan said, and at least he was honest. Jon felt a dark cloud appear over his head again because, yes, that wasn’t going to change. Why make the effort to be with someone who was never there? Ryan pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. “Here.”
Jon frowned and hesitantly took it. “What is it?”
“Our last show is in Vegas, five days from now. In there are your flights as well as your backstage pass.”
“I –”
“It’s your call,” Ryan said and stood up, buttoning the jacket and putting the sunglasses back on. “No one knows I came to see you. If you never show up... we won’t know any better.”
Ryan gave him a nod as a goodbye and headed for the nearest exit. Jon stared after him, and the envelope felt heavy in his hand.
Jon knocked on the door until one of Tom’s roommates opened it. Jon didn’t care it was the middle of the night. When they had crises, nocturnal visits were accepted. It took a while for Tom to be woken up, but finally, he was sitting on the edge of his bed in his pyjama pants, scratching his chin and yawning, “What?” after Jon had recapped the events of the previous day.
“I know, right?”
To prove that he wasn’t full of shit, Jon handed Tom the backstage pass. Tom stared in bewilderment before concluding, “Shit.”
“I don’t know what I should do. What should I do?” Jon asked and paced around.
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither,” he admitted and stopped, taking a calming breath.
Tom’s solution was to look at the newest Panic footage to determine whether Spencer seemed miserable or not. Jon thought it was ridiculous, but they watched one interview where Spencer just seemed to be gazing away and didn’t say a single thing. Tom said that Spencer was obviously distraught, Jon argued that Spencer had just been bored. Jon refused to watch any more recent interviews or pictures because he didn’t like looking at Spencer on the computer screen, like Spencer was some random public figure instead of something Jon had felt heat up under the brush of his fingertips.
They stayed up until morning without reaching a conclusion of any kind.
The day before the Vegas show, Jon still had no idea what to do. It felt like he was trying to find his way in the dark, and whenever he thought he saw light, he had simply reached a dead end.
Spencer wasn’t fine, and Jon couldn’t stand knowing it. He could fly to Vegas and make it all better, assuming Spencer didn’t hate his guts. But would he himself be fine? If things worked out, would he be fine dealing with the distance and the jealousy and the loneliness? Would he simply be prolonging eventual heartbreak that would hurt twice as bad?
The envelope was sitting on the kitchen counter, and Jon’s eyes lingered on it whenever he got something from the fridge or the cupboards.
“You gotta stop staring at it,” Tom commented from the doorway, and Jon wasn’t sure if his friend’s expression was one of pity or amusement.
“If I go to Las Vegas, then my flight leaves in… fifteen fucking hours. How the hell am I supposed to not stare at it?” Jon almost snapped.
“You could always use the flight to go to Vegas and hit a couple of casinos, you know? Sponsored by Ryan Ross.”
“Not happening,” Jon grumbled.
Tom sighed and walked to the counter, turning around and lifting himself to sit on it. He picked up the envelope and peeked inside, immediately causing Jon to tense up. “Relax, just looking,” Tom said soothingly.
Jon bit his lip nervously as Tom examined the tickets and the backstage pass. Jon preferred not looking at the Gateway to Spencer Smith, as he had labelled the objects.
“I’ve been thinking about that guy you told me about,” Tom said slowly, looking up at Jon.
“What guy?”
“The guy at one of our gigs. The one that invited you home?”
Jon nodded solemnly. Even though he had done absolutely nothing, he didn’t like thinking about his half a second of “maybe” as the guy had stood too close to him with alcoholic breath and tempting lips.
“You were right in saying that Spencer would never have known. So… why didn’t you?” Tom asked, and there was no accusation in his tone, just wonder.
“Because I was taken.”
“That’d be the easy answer, yeah, I know. But those kind of situations… you either said no for your own sake or Spencer’s. Did you say no because you didn’t want to deal with the guilt the next day? Or did you say no –”
“I said no because I would never hurt someone I love, okay? And bottom line is, I didn’t even want the guy, I was just lonely and confused, so it means fuck all. Let’s not talk about this,” Jon asked pleadingly, but Tom was grinning wide, obviously proud of himself. “What?” Jon huffed.
“Rewind a bit there, JWalk. Rewind,” Tom said as he dropped the backstage pass back into the envelope, jumping off the counter and exiting the room.
Jon’s brows furrowed as he stared after his friend. “What?” he whispered quietly as Tom Conrad had confused the fuck out of him for a change.
Oxygen left Jon’s lungs, and he was sure his eyes had widened if he had been able to see them, and for a second, he almost felt dizzy.
Tom was standing by his bed when Jon stormed into the room, completely breathless. “I –”
“I know.”
“I should –”
“Why do you think I’m packing?” Tom asked and quirked an eyebrow, and Jon’s eyes landed on the clothes Tom had gathered on the bed. “Now, you need to wear something so hot that Spencer will forgive you simply out of horniness. And I can’t believe I’m encouraging my best friend to have anal sex with a man.”
Jon was still completely overwhelmed, ignoring Tom’s stab at his sexual preferences. “I… I really, really fucked up.”
Tom froze slightly and let out a breath, nodding in agreement. “Yeah… but you know what the good news is?” his friend asked, and Jon shook his head. “You have fifteen hours to prepare a fucking good speech.”
Jon’s flight was late. Of course it was late, and by the time he got to the venue, he was just really, really fucking late. He showed his backstage pass and the staff member let him in without any hassle.
“Fucking great,” he cursed when he heard the muffled sound of She’s a Handsome Woman filling the backstage area. The band was already on and that ruined Jon’s plan.
His plan had been as such: appear at the venue and beg Spencer to take him back.
Jon wasn’t about to run on stage in the middle of their set, which left him with the awkward option of waiting.
He followed the sound of music, eventually drawing closer. He turned around a corner and saw that he was right behind the actual stage, instantly noticing familiar crew members hanging around the backstage area. Oh great. It’s not like they didn’t know that Jon had dumped Spencer’s ass.
“Jon,” a low voice said from behind him. Jon turned around and was standing in the accusing glare of Zack, who seemed much bigger than he had the last time. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m gonna have to show you out,” the bodyguard informed him, already placing a firm hand on Jon’s shoulder.
“But –”
“Doesn’t matter just how good friends you were with them. Just come along now.”
“But –”
“Give me an attitude, and you’ll be sorry,” Zack said boomingly, and Zack was a nice guy, he really was, but he also protected the band like a lion protected its cubs.
Zack had already pushed Jon along a little before Jon managed to dig out the backstage pass from under his t-shirt. “I’ve got, um,” he explained and lifted it up nervously, and Zack’s eyes thinned.
“Where’d you get this?” the bodyguard asked disbelievingly, snatching it between thick fingers to make sure it was the real thing.
Jon didn’t want to rat Ryan out, so he just stared Zack down, partly hoping to be punched. Zack let go of the backstage pass and sighed. “Does Spencer know you’re here?”
“He’s about to,” Jon admitted quietly.
Zack snorted a sarcastic, “Great,” before turning on his heels. Jon saw him disappear around a corner, knowing the bodyguard had taken his usual position at the side of the stage. The crew members present had noticed the exchange and were sneaking glances at Jon. Jon couldn’t help but notice that they didn’t come talk to him though he was on first-name basis with all of them. Just how bad had he fucked up? Did everyone hate him for breaking up with Spencer? It seemed so.
Jon spotted Chase, and since the tour manager had always been friendly to him, he gathered his courage and walked over. “Chase, hey. What’s up?”
The blond man looked at Jon with perfect composure, even smiling on top of it, albeit a bit forcedly. “Jon, hi. Not much, really. We’re all sad and happy that the tour is about to end.”
“Yeah, figures. Um, how long have they been on stage?”
“This is the last song before the encore break,” Chase informed him.
“Great. Cool. Great,” Jon said, and his stomach was full of butterflies again. Fuck butterflies, it was a hurricane inside his stomach, and he felt like throwing up as his heart bumped adrenalin into his system. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and focused on his grand speech, daring himself to walk closer to the stage. He took a few careful steps to walk around the wall that was the back of the actual stage, and suddenly, he saw it all again: the blinding lights, the faceless mass of people in the hall of the venue, Ryan playing his guitar, Brendon standing next to him in what looked like a typical guitar duel moment, and Brent picking the strings of the bass on the other side of the stage. Jon mostly focused on the man on the raised platform for the drum kit.
He hadn’t seen Spencer in ages, and he hadn’t heard from him in weeks. And Jon got that warm, fuzzy feeling inside him the second his eyes landed on his ex-boyfriend, Spencer’s tongue stuck between his teeth, and the world made sense again. Just like that, the agonising throbbing ceased inside Jon’s chest, and he felt a momentary breeze of peace pass through him.
“Thank you, you’ve been wonderful!” Brendon announced into the microphone. “Thank you and goodnight!”
“Shit,” Jon muttered, quickly taking steps back to hide himself from view. He was shaking, how pathetic was that? And the crowd was cheering, full of youthful enthusiasm, and Jon was backstage white as a sheet, taking calming breaths as his hands clasped together, and he paced back and forth trying to calm himself.
Then the footsteps reached the side of the stage, and he heard Zack telling the guys it had been a good show. Jon’s stomach dropped, and he stood still as four sweaty guys grinning and looking at each other with animated looks came into view.
Jon just stood still and stared. He had to go over, but he felt terrified and didn’t know what to do.
Ryan saw him first. Maybe because Ryan was looking around with an impatient expression on his face, sweat rolling down his neck. Brendon noticed Ryan freezing and followed the older man’s gaze, and Jon saw Brendon’s eyes double when they settled on him standing by himself next to what looked like the empty cases for Spencer’s drum kit.
The band worked as a unit, which Jon had noticed more than once. There was something impenetrable there and Jon had been jealous of it at some point, but when the entire band froze to look in his direction, like they were one being, Jon realised he really didn’t have to be jealous that Spencer was so close to three other guys. Brendon, Ryan and Brent all looked relieved. What Spencer cared about, the others cared about too. When Spencer fell in love, well, in some twisted way it meant that Panic at the Disco fell in love.
If Spencer still cared about him at all, because Spencer? Spencer stared with a shocked expression before he looked away as if hit by lightning.
Jon forced himself to walk over. The crowd was chanting in some other distant world, and he was in Las Vegas, backstage, approaching four guys who played music for a living and who thousands of people adored, and Jon was just a random business management student from Chicago, Illinois, USA, Planet Earth, who had met Spencer purely by accident.
“Hi,” Jon said when he got within talking distance of the band, and his voice broke pathetically. He cleared his throat, and they were all looking at Spencer. The band wasn’t going to be happy that he was there if they didn’t know how Spencer felt about it.
“Jon,” Ryan nodded when Spencer didn’t react.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Brent said, and he sounded a bit angry. Of course Brent was angry; he had been there to witness Spencer throwing his Sidekick across the room when Jon had destroyed the one good thing that had happened to him in a long, long time.
“Yeah, well,” Jon shrugged sheepishly, but his tone was apologetic and his throat was dry. He only looked at Spencer, who stood still and faced the other way, arms curled around his middle.
Jon wasn’t sure if Brendon spoke for them all when he said, “It’s, uh, good to see you, man.”
Jon only nodded, and his voice was much quieter when he said, “Spencer? Um, can I… Could we talk?”
Spencer turned to him, stance defensive, but Jon still felt breathless at the way the wet bangs stuck to Spencer’s forehead, his eyebrows shadowing deep, blue eyes. “We gotta go back on in a minute.”
The crowd was chanting louder and louder, and Jon decided not to care for his pride. “Please. It’ll just take a minute.”
“I –”
“I’ll go play Time to Dance,” Brendon said, interrupting.
“It’s not on the setlist,” Spencer said sternly.
“They love the acoustic version, don’t they?”
“They do, yeah,” Ryan muttered in confirmation and gave Brendon a look of approval. Brendon snapped his fingers, and one of the roadies passed him a guitar instantly. Ryan and Brent diplomatically walked to the side of the stage to give them some space as Brendon marched back on to a soaring applause.
“Could we…?” Jon asked nervously, motioning with his head a little. Spencer sighed and nodded, following Jon to the corner to be out of earshot.
Spencer’s eyes landed on the backstage pass around Jon’s neck, and his blue eyes narrowed. “How’d you get that?”
“It’s, um –”
“What are you even doing here?” Spencer asked, suddenly angered.
“Spencer, listen. Please, just listen to me,” Jon said urgently because Spencer didn’t seem too keen to let Jon talk or explain himself. Spencer quirked an eyebrow but seemed neither curious nor completely indifferent. Jon could see that Spencer looked like something was being torn apart inside him, and Jon had caused it. “I’m a fucking idiot,” Jon said in the end, hanging his head but still daring himself to sneak a glance at Spencer.
Spencer’s eyes widened a little but just as quickly he shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t do this,” he said in a thick voice, taking a step back.
“I freaked out and made a terrible decision. I was – I was just so fucking confused, it was like, I didn’t even know who I was anymore,” Jon attempted to explain desperately. “I’m not used to this big show or any of it, and I wasn’t prepared, and when I didn’t want that, I thought that I didn’t want you, but I was wrong, so incredibly wrong, and I am sorry, so sorry for putting you through that.”
Spencer let out a small disbelieving laugh, fully crossing his arms in front of his chest as he shook his head again. Jon’s grand speech wasn’t exactly receiving the response he had hoped for, but he barely noticed it in his anxiety.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about the future and… and us, and I’ve been filling out internship applications for different firms, and I- well, I actually spotted a couple of really promising internships in Las Vegas. They only last a year, and I’m a Chicago kid, but it doesn’t mean I can’t explore what else is out there, you know?” Jon rambled nervously. “So, I could apply for one of those Vegas ones, see what happens. You never know with life, right?”
Spencer took in a deep breath, and Jon bit his lip nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Re... remember when you said it’d be... convenient for me to live here.”
“Yeah,” Spencer whispered, nodding slightly. Jon gave Spencer the chance to speak. He waited for Spencer’s eyes to light up the way they had used to, from when Jon had said ‘yes’ the first time to the moment Jon had said ‘no’. He now realised how with that single word he had undermined everything that had happened between those two stages. Spencer’s eyes didn’t sparkle; the drummer looked worn out and sad.
Jon killed the desire to stomp his foot and curse because he had really, really messed this up.
“I love you,” he said, and he had wanted it to come out strong, but as the statement was firm, it was also quiet. “Why the hell did I never tell you that?” he asked and ignored how his voice trembled, with guilt, most likely. “I know I just showed up, and I know you’re probably angry as hell, but let me make it up to you. Please. I want to be here, I want you, I just –”
“Jon,” Spencer stopped his monologue, and Jon packed in his emotional wreck escapade. Spencer stood up straighter and his arms fell to his sides. He brushed damp hair from his forehead and said, “You were right.”
Jon stared in confusion, and Spencer smiled crookedly. “What you said in the voicemail, you were right. About everything.”
Jon didn’t want Spencer to agree with his idiocy. “No. No, I wasn’t. I was wrong, I was... I was being emotionally unavailable, yet again. Like, Amy should’ve warned you or some shit, I don’t even know, but I’m done being retarded about how I feel, and –”
“Jon,” Spencer said a second time, but his voice had softness to it this time. “You weren’t unavailable. I am,” Spencer said, motioning at their surroundings a little. “So you were right. It’s not gonna work out between us. We never stood a chance.”
“You don’t mean that,” Jon said, somehow convinced that the simple sentence could make Spencer change his mind.
“I do.”
“Spence, please,” Jon whispered, trying to will Spencer into accepting his apology and taking him back.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer said and swallowed, averting Jon’s gaze. “There’s a... a party at a club afterwards to celebrate the end of the tour, but, um,” Spencer started and then frowned, a painful look on his face. “It’s best if... you don’t come. Best if you just leave.”
“Right,” Jon breathed out, absolutely shocked. Ryan had made it sound like it was fixable, like Jon was the one person who could make things right, but it seemed that Ryan had been wrong. Spencer didn’t need anyone and especially not Jon.
“Spence, just,” Jon said in an anguished voice, not really intending to say anything as he extended his hand in an attempt to brush Spencer’s cheek, but Spencer instantly took a step back.
“I gotta go back on,” Spencer said, and Jon realised Brendon was just about done with the song. “We’ll bump into each other, you know, sometime.”
Jon stared. He didn’t want to bump into Spencer some other fucking time, randomly on the street to engage in small talk. And who were they kidding? They’d never see each other again.
“Don’t do this,” Jon whispered.
“Goodbye, Jon,” Spencer said firmly, throwing an invisible door right to his face as he turned around and stepped back into the bright lights just at the right time. Ryan and Brent both turned to look at Jon with expressions that screamed, “What happened?” as they reluctantly got back on stage as well.
Jon didn’t need to say anything. The guitarist and bassist looked at Spencer, then at Jon, and Jon could see Ryan’s expression change from confident to confused to disappointed, and Brent’s expression said that he wasn’t even that surprised. Brendon announced they had two more songs to play, and Jon could see Brendon read Ryan’s expression, and Jon couldn’t stand seeing everyone’s reaction to the fact that Spencer wanted nothing to do with him anymore.
Jon didn’t break down. He wasn’t the type to break down, but he felt something die in him. A bit of naivety or good will, optimism. A bit of his heart, maybe.
He backed away to get out of there because Spencer didn’t want him. Message read loud and clear. He retraced his tracks to a concrete corridor that led to the backdoor, but his way was blocked by the support band’s roadies shifting heavy gear back to their own bus. He groaned in frustration, feeling sick and used and tired and broken. He didn’t want to be there when the guys finished the night, so he headed for the next possible exit.
He went down a flight of stairs, and at the bottom, a venue worker opened the door for him. He came out into the hall of the venue, passing the security barricades and finding himself face to face with hundreds upon hundreds of fans having the time of their lives.
What a show.
Jon quickly pulled the hood over his head because he did get recognised sometimes. The first row’s attention was wholly on stage, and Jon began to make his way through the venue to the main exit, anything to just get the fuck out of there. He kept close to the wall, murmuring “Sorry”s and “Excuse me”s, nudging fans out of the way, but it was a hopelessly slow process. The crowd kept pushing and shoving around him, but the elbows and hands hitting him felt like nothing at all as he thought of Spencer’s words, of the way Spencer didn’t even give a fuck anymore.
He only hoped that Spencer was somehow wise beyond both of their years, that Spencer saw something he was missing because it made no sense to him. It hurt, it was excruciating, and he had realised the most important things in the completely wrong order. He had loved Spencer.
Jon was able to snake his way through the mob more easily as he got closer to the back. The world was buzzing in his years, and it took him a long time to register that the band had stopped playing abruptly in the middle of the song.
“This is fantastic, right?” Brendon’s voice was asking, his voice amplified by the PA.
“Yeah,” Ryan’s drone replied.
“Our last gig on this tour, and this happens,” Brendon chuckled. “Ladies and gentlemen, just give us a moment to sort out the technical difficulties, and we’ll finish these songs for you.”
“Or we could just dance,” Ryan offered, and more banter followed between the two as Jon finally passed the merch table and got to the doors of the hall.
He didn’t want to hear the familiar voices, the screaming, fuck it, he didn’t want to hear another Panic at the Disco song as long as he lived.
People were already queuing for the cloak room, and Jon passed them and was soon breathing in the dry air of Las Vegas. The painful stab in his guts loosened a little as he was no longer hearing the noise inside the venue. A number of gig-goers were hanging outside, those who wanted to avoid excessive queuing or had to leave early, and Jon was in the latter group. He had been asked to leave.
Ryan hadn’t actually bothered to buy him a flight back to Chicago. He was stranded in Las Vegas. Fucking great.
“Fucking great,” he muttered, digging a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket as he desperately needed to soothe his nerves. He felt around his jeans and groaned, forcing down the imminent explosion. “Does anybody have a light?” he snapped to a bunch of teenage girls standing closes to him, who all looked frightened. “Anybody?” he asked.
One of the girls shook her head, and Jon cursed under his breath. “Don’t start smoking,” he advised, the cigarette still between his lips. “Fucking lethal. And it only gets you into trouble when you meet the man of your dreams outside a shitty venue in Chicago. Lethal shit,” he muttered and flicked the cigarette to the ground angrily.
The girls’ eyes went wide, and Jon wondered if he really looked that much of a mess. He certainly felt like it.
“Oh my god!” one of them breathed with that familiar star struck look, and Jon followed her gaze, turning around just in time to see Spencer come to a stop, out of breath, drumsticks still in hand and sweat rolling down his neck, and Jon was pretty sure Spencer was supposed to be on stage just then and not outside the venue.
The venue workers and Zack catching up with Spencer seemed inclined to agree.
“I take it back,” Spencer panted, doubling over a little and resting one hand on his thigh for support, looking up at Jon through his bangs.
“What?” Jon asked in confusion because he was looking at someone he had already accepted he would never see again, and wait. What?
“Everything. I want to take it all back.”
“Spencer, the show’s not finished yet!” Zack barked, and Spencer lifted his hand in dismissal, and the venue workers looked absolutely horrified.
Jon just stared.
Spencer stood up straighter, trying to get some oxygen in, and it occurred to Jon that Spencer had most likely run around the entire building to get to the front. “I’m –” Spencer began.
“Excuse me, could you sign our tickets for us?” one of the fans piped in.
“Yeah, sure, just give me a minute,” Spencer asked before promptly ignoring the gaping fans. “I’m miserable without you, Jon,” he exclaimed desperately. “And I can’t believe that you… I just wanted you to be miserable in return because I fucking well knew you made the biggest mistake of your life. Not to sound cocky, but I –” Spencer paused to catch his breath and shook his head. “I don’t want you to be miserable when I want to be the guy who makes you happy. It can work if we try hard enough, and it’d be worth it because I just –”
Again, Spencer stopped in the middle of the sentence, lifting his arms like he didn’t have the words. After a beat of the two of them staring at each other, neither one of them having the right words, Spencer stepped closer and sealed their lips in a starving kiss. He cupped Jon’s face, and his slender fingers moved to thread in Jon’s hair, and Jon whimpered against Spencer’s lips. He pulled Spencer closer to him, letting his arms wrap around Spencer demandingly, deepening the kiss. Fuck, he had missed Spencer so much. And suddenly, it hit him it wasn’t over yet. He began grinning wide against Spencer’s lips, and he swore he heard Zack say something along the lines of, “Spencer, not in public,” followed by an, “Excuse me, would you put the camera away?”, but Jon was pretty sure that, for once, he didn’t care.
Jon kept their foreheads pressed together when they pulled back for air. His fingertips grazed the nape of Spencer’s neck, and he inhaled the smell of Spencer, sweat and cologne, and he felt like breaking down for some unknown reason. “You’re not breaking up with me?” he asked, just to make sure.
“If you’re not breaking up with me either,” Spencer laughed, pressing their lips together again, beard scratching against stubble.
Jon matched Spencer’s grin, and Zack said, “Great, fantastic, you guys. But Spencer James Smith V, if you don’t come with me right now, I will carry you.”
They pulled apart, but Spencer kept his arm around Jon, using his advantage in height to keep Jon tucked against him.
Vocalising Spencer’s full name seemed to have caught the attention of all the fans who had left the venue already, and venue workers were quickly ushering them inside, making a protective circle around them to keep the fans at bay.
“We’re coming back, we’re coming back. Yes, we have the drummer,” a stressed out security man was talking into a walkie-talkie, but Jon just kept grinning, whispering sweet nothings into Spencer’s ear, making his own heart jump whenever Spencer looked at him with shining eyes and a huge smile.
“When I have a heart attack, it’s going to be your fucking fault,” Zack said, but he didn’t sound nearly as angry as he probably would have liked. “You two are going to be all over the internet tomorrow.”
Jon might have started stressing over the thought before, about the pictures, rumours, whatever else, but for the first time, he genuinely didn’t give a damn as they half-ran the Staff Only corridors to get back to where they were supposed to be.
“Get back on stage!” a stressed out Chase demanded the second they reached backstage and the circle of venue workers disappeared from around them.
Spencer nodded, turning around to give Jon another devouring kiss, tongue sliding in Jon’s mouth and hands everywhere. Jon had to fight him off with a wet pop and he snapped Spencer’s wrists, reluctantly pushing the drummer away. “Go on,” he chuckled, just so fucking happy that he wanted to buy the entire world a beer or two.
Spencer backed away, swirling a drumstick between his fingers before launching right back on Jon, hands in Jon’s hair again. They stumbled onwards until Jon became aware of blinding lights and screaming, and when he broke apart, he realised they were practically on stage and definitely in view, and Ryan was looking at them with raised eyebrows.
“So, uh,” Brendon commented into the microphone as he grinned an evil little smile. “As you can see, we’re all really excited tonight, some more than others, this being the last show and all, so… here’s our last song. Spencer?”
“Don’t go anywhere,” Spencer demanded as he let go of Jon, eyeing him up and down, and Jon couldn’t help the sly smile that seemed to increase the flashing of the cameras in the crowd. Spencer headed for the drum kit, still grinning, and Jon realised he was still standing on stage so he abruptly walked off.
“And a clip of you two making out on stage is going to be all over YouTube tomorrow,” Zack commented disdainfully from beside Jon.
Jon looked at the bodyguard and smirked. “Yeah, I don’t really care.”
Zack shrugged like he didn’t care either but obviously did. Jon kept staring at Spencer as the band started playing again, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Zack eyeing him sceptically. “You here to stay this time?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“Well,” Zack said, clearing his throat. “Welcome to the family. And don’t make a habit of the drama, okay? We have Ryan for that.”
“I won’t. And thanks,” he grinned, and he knew that he still didn’t belong there. But the puzzle pieces were just coming together, and eventually, he might realise that he had been incorporated into the Panic at the Disco circus. He looked forward to that day as he sensed that he had really seen nothing yet.
Jon stood at the side of the stage, and he didn’t mind that his place was in the shadows. Some people were meant for the stage and some weren’t. And Ryan had been right, Spencer was worth it all and maybe, just maybe, Spencer was his.
Spencer glanced at him and winked, and Jon rolled his eyes and tried to hide his smile.
