I'm Not Complaining That It's Raining (sequel to Aventures)

9- Pasta Primavera

[A.N.: one of my favorite chapter so far. Ghaaaa this makes me so pumped!

Careful though, this is pretty freaking long. So brace yourselves.

It's a start]

"Spence, I really need your help on this one."

Spencer was like my brother. We'd been friends for years. In fact, I remembered the first Halloween we ever spent together. I was six and he was four. I was dressed as Green Lantern and Spencer was a cowboy. We had gotten literally tons of candy.

I missed old days. When I was a kid, I only wanted to grow up, become an astronaut or maybe a firefighter.

Depended on the day.

But now that I was a grown man, I wish I was that innocent six years old again. I wish my greatest worry was the socks I'd wear in the morning, or the grade I would get on a test.

I wish I could go back, but I couldn't. And no matter how much I did want to go back, I kept remembering that, without this pretty fucking rough transition to adulthood, I would have never met Brendon. Or Jon, for all that matter. And I knew that Brendon was the best person to ever walk into my life.

And I really, really would do everything so he wouldn't walk out of it.

"I don't know what's up anymore. He hasn't come home since Pete's party and... And he hasn't called me or-or even texted me." I paused. "Wait, he has texted me. He said 'staying at Petes for a while. Need to think.' and-and he... Spencer, you need to help me. I... I can't stand not having him around and... He says he's thinking, Lord, Spence, tell me he isn't doubting our marriage-"

Only then I realized I said this sentence so fast I could barely even remember the words I said.

"Ryan, Ryan, calm down okay?"

"I can't! Oh my God, Spence I've been such an ass!"

"No, you haven't! Well... Maybe a little. But we're all asses at some point, right?"

"You're not helping here, Spence."

"I'm sorry. But... Really, what do you want me to say? You need advice?"

"Spencer James Smith, my fucking husband is hiding from me at his friend's place and is fucking considering divorce over a damn fight, so yeah, yeah maybe a tiny piece of advice wouldn't be too much to ask."

"I'm sorry. But... I don't know what to say. Tell me how you got together again?"

"In Montreal. Before the tour and all this shit."

"Right... Maybe you could like, recreate the environement from that stay in Montreal. There must have been a special event or... I don't know man, something special that really made you guys closer or-"

"Spencer, you. Are. A. Genius. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much."

"Well. You're welcome, I guess..?"

"You have no idea. You're my idol, thank you so much. Now, I have a husband to bring back home, so bye, thanksagainSpenceryou'rethebest!"

"Wait, Ryan."

"Yeah, what?"

"Maybe a certain Brendon called me this morning to ask me how you were doing and if you had called me. And, well, I might have told him that you guys are meeting up tonight at your house. You know, possibilities."

"Spencer, if I wasn't married, I'd kiss you like you've never been kissed before."

"I have a girlfriend. But you're welcome. Just being a friend."

"An a-ma-zing friend. Really, you're awesome. Thank you so much, Spence."

I hung up before he could answer. I had a plan.
I grabbed my keys and ran for the door and left, after making sure I carefully locked the door, as I always did. Brendon was always scared to get his stuff stolen.

...

There are a few things in life I was proud to say I was good at.

Cooking wasn't one of them.

I was good at playing guitar, or massaging Brendon's chest when he was sore from singing.

But I really couldn't cook.

Basically, Brendon would arrive sooner than I'd like him to, and my dish of Pasta Primavera was completely burned, good for trash.

I sighed, desesperate to find a solution.

As my mind was ferociously debating wether or not I should cook something else, I heard a soft knock on the door. I smiled a little and walked to the door. I had somehow managed to get rid of the smoke and smell, and added a few candles to make the whole thing prettier and hopefully make myself forget I had burned a simple dish of pasta.

Idiot.

"You know you live here, right?"

He smiled shyly and nodded. "I just... You know, making sure. Can I... come in?"

I shook my head quickly and added, "yes, yes of course, sorry."

He enterred the house slowly and cleared his throat.

"I, uh, I brought you flowers."