Reassuring Ryan and Spencer that they could indeed stay with Brendon in his apartment was one thing, but attempting to convince Dallon to let them walk through the front door was an entirely different story.
Brendon didn't understand what Dallon's issue was. He was being a kind person, taking in two of his only friends in New Orleans, and Dallon was shooting them down. It wasn't like Ryan and Spencer were dangerous, or even a threat to the apartment complex. They were good people who desperately needed a roof over their heads. Brendon wasn't going down without a fight.
It took some major convincing, even a few sharp and witty remarks from Brendon's side, but finally, Dallon had no choice but to cave in. He allowed Ryan and Spencer into his apartment complex, all the while casting them a nasty scowl from behind the front desk. That only made Brendon flash an even brighter smile in his direction as he guided Ryan and Spencer up the steps. The battle had been won.
It was already late in the afternoon when Ryan and Spencer were settled in the living room. A worn blanket was snugly wrapped around Spencer's shaking shoulders, and another one--one Brendon had kept draped over his couch--laid across his lap. His hair was disheveled and messy, his blue eyes dim and subdued. Every so often a terrible cough racked his body. He was the epitome of sickly, and just the sight of him shivering on the couch made Brendon's heart sink to his feet. Spencer didn't deserve this.
Ryan looked even worse than he had earlier that morning, too. Scruffy hair. Oily and ghostly skin. Lifeless eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept a minute in months, maybe even years, and as he sat next to his trembling father on the couch, Brendon wanted nothing more than to turn back time and prevent all of this from ever taking place.
But he couldn't make miracles happen.
The most he could've done was search the marketplace for some medicine, or at the very least, some healthy fruits and soups to make the two of them feel better. That was his plan of action, and although it wasn't the best of the best, it was the only thing that came to mind. As long as he was helping in the slightest, he didn't care what he had to do.
The sunset was a brilliant mixture of oranges and pinks, and as it began to dip below the ocean's horizon, Brendon left the apartment complex and made his way to the nearest marketplace. He just hoped nothing would be closed this late in the afternoon.
The breeze chilled his skin, fresh and laced with the scent of sea salt. It was a gorgeous evening. He passed the occasional family as they strolled through the streets together. He passed a group of children playing with a ball beside the park. He passed a few individuals taking their dogs on a nightly walk. One of the Labradors even stopped to give Brendon a friendly sniff. All in all, the evening streets of New Orleans held a sense of peace and comfort, and for a fleeting moment, it made Brendon forget about all the turmoil that hid behind that outer layer of serenity.
Great things never lasted forever.
A few of the marketplaces were still open, much to Brendon's relief. He scanned the stalls for what he needed, searching for any type of medicine or any kind of soup that would help Spencer get better. He didn't have much money, but whatever would be the most helpful, he was willing to buy it.
He decided on a couple cans of plain tomato soup. None of the stalls sold any medicine whatsoever, and even if they did, Brendon could only imagine how expensive they would've been. Medical care was a ridiculous price these days. Brendon didn't understand the philosophy behind it. How were people supposed to get better if the cost of medical care was through the roof and beyond? It was nuts. He hated it.
He was just getting in line to purchase the soup when he spotted it.
There, watching him from the darkness of the alleyway, was a sleek black cat. He'd recognize those amber eyes anywhere.
Jynx.
Suddenly the tomato soup seemed far less interesting. Brendon placed the cans back in the basket, his heart thumping against his rib cage. When he turned back around, he half-expected to see the alleyway empty, but instead, Jynx's perfectly motionless form still sat in the center of the pavement, watching him with unblinking eyes.
She was waiting for him.
So he followed her into the alleyway.
* * * * *
"I see you've found your way, Brendon." Jon flicked on his lighter, bringing the flame to the cigarette between his lips. "It's good to see ya again. Glad you could make it."
"Well, your cat sure is a smart one," Brendon remarked. Jynx sat silently on the old table, her tail curled around her paws as she watched the two men converse as she had the other night. There was something almost surreal about her, but whatever that something was, Brendon couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Jon merely took a long drag of his cigarette, studying Brendon with a steady gaze. Smoke trailed from his mouth in gentle wisps, with every breath he took. Brendon almost felt uneasy under his scrutinizing eyes.
"So," Brendon began slowly, hesitantly, "what'd ya have Jynx bring me here for?"
Another few agonizingly silent moments passed before Jon finally broke his hard stare. He shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, took another heavy drag and filled the air with smoke. "I just wanted to chat," he replied. His tone was smooth, cool, confident. Did anything scare this man?
"About anythin' in particular?" Brendon pressed. With both Jynx and Jon observing him like a caged animal, he suddenly felt uncomfortably claustrophobic in the dark little hut.
"Things." Jon clicked his tongue, and without a moment's hesitation, Jynx crawled onto his lap and laid across his legs. "Mostly regarding the latest money issues."
He had Brendon's full attention now. "Did ya talk to those folks? When ya said you were gonna pull those strings? What's goin' on with that?"
"One step at a time, kiddo," Jon said with a smile. In the dim candlelight, he almost looked ominous; the addition of Jynx's amber eyes only added to the eerie factor. "I did talk to some folks, yes, but I'm not sure how it's all workin' out yet."
"What can ya tell me?" Brendon asked. His fingers were twitching with anticipation, his heart racing inside his chest.
"Not much, unfortunately," Jon responded. With another drag, he stroked Jynx's sleek coat, twirling her tail around his slender fingers. "These folks are some special ones, all right. They don't like to be talked about."
Brendon frowned. "Well, that makes 'em sound like criminals or somethin'. You're not doin' anythin' dangerous, are ya, Jon?"
A twisted smile curled its way onto Jon's lips, and as the shadows from the candlelight danced across his face, Brendon couldn't hide the goosebumps prickling his skin. "No. Not at all, Brendon. Don't you worry about it."
It didn't take much for Brendon to realize that maybe he really didn't know who Jon was after all.
But before any more questions could be asked, Jon cleared his throat and changed the subject. He was a sly man. "Anyway, that's not all I wanted to chat with ya about," he continued, the smoking cigarette loosely hanging from his fingertips. "I wanted to talk about Ryan and Spencer. How are they holdin' up?"
The wind rattled the hut's frail walls. The sound of it was eerie, menacing, and for a fleeting moment, Brendon expected to hear an ominous clap of thunder following in its footsteps. The buzz in the atmosphere was anything but comfortable.
"They're decent," Brendon lied. He didn't know how to tell Jon that Spencer had fallen ill, and as a matter of fact, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to. Jon had heard enough terrible news already. He didn't need another weight to add to his chest.
Jon's eyes narrowed. They narrowed into thin slits, gleaming in the dim candlelight. Jynx growled from his lap, and her threatening amber eyes seemed to glow and pierce straight through Brendon's lies.
"Jynx knows when folks aren't tellin' the truth," Jon said, his voice suddenly much lower than it had been before, "and she doesn't appreciate bein' lied to."
Brendon gulped. He hoped that didn't seem too obvious.
"What's goin' on, Brendon?" Jon nudged Jynx off his lap, his unyielding eyes not once leaving the frightened boy in front of him. "And tell the truth. It ain't gonna hurt ya."
It seemed he had no other option. With Jon's gaze locked on his form, and Jynx's unblinking eyes staring him down from the darkness, he had no choice but to tell the truth, no matter how much he'd been dreading it. All he could do was take a deep breath and spit it out.
"Spencer's sick. Real sick. Ryan came to my apartment after I first talked with ya and told me."
The pitter patter of rain battered against the roof, filling the stifling silence. Now Brendon was just waiting for that clap of thunder that was certain to follow.
"Sick?" Jon repeated, although he'd been silent for far too long. "How sick are we talkin', kid? Sick could mean anything."
"I don't know, but he doesn't look good," Brendon explained. He regretted every single word that came out of his mouth, but at least he was being truthful, right? That was all Jon asked of him, and he was delivering.
So why did he feel so awful about it?
A low rumble of thunder crackled through the night sky. Jon remained silent, his gaze trailing to the floor, smoke trickling from between his lips. In the flickering candlelight, Brendon could see just how exhausted Jon looked. Had some kind of curse fallen over the city of New Orleans? Why had everything suddenly taken a drastic turn for the worse?
"Everything's been goin' bad since I came to town," Brendon muttered, more to himself than anything, but the soft sound of his voice caught Jon's attention. "I know it's silly, but I just feel like this is all my fault, ya know?"
"It isn't." Jon's gravelly voice almost seemed to match the grumbling thunder outside. "I know it might feel like it, Brendon, but you didn't make Spencer sick. You didn't force The Spotted Cat into foreclosure. You just moved here, all right? None of this is your fault. Don't put that kinda stress on yourself."
Jynx mewed, as if she agreed with Jon's words.
"You just focus on takin' care of yourself," Jon continued, shifting in his chair. "Keep an eye on Ryan, too. I'll handle the rest."
"I will," Brendon promised. "Both Ryan and Spencer are stayin' in my apartment right now. They don't have anywhere else to go."
"Good kid."
With a purr rumbling deep in her throat, Jynx rubbed her slender form against Brendon's leg. She sat perched near his ankles like a dog, as if she was expecting Brendon to pet her, so that was exactly what he did.
"You and Ryan seem pretty close these days," Jon remarked, watching with an unblinking gaze as Brendon stroked Jynx's ears. "Almost seems more powerful than a simple friendship."
A cold draft leaked into the dim room, sending shivers down Brendon's spine. One of the candle flames flickered so violently that he feared it was going to blow out. Even Jynx seemed to sense the incredibly uneasy atmosphere, for the fur on her spine began to ruffle up into soft spikes. What did Jon mean by that?
The wicked smirk that adorned his face made Brendon's heart leap to his throat. "I knew that'd get a rise outta ya," he said. "So it must be somewhat true, then."
"What's true?" Brendon questioned. Not even the gentle pitter patter of the rain outside could soothe his nerves.
But instead of answering his question, Jon only took another long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke billow into the air around them. If Brendon didn't know any better, he'd say Jon was taunting him.
"Oh, nothing, Brendon. Just that I think you're in love with Ryan Ross."
The rumbling thunder rattled the walls of the tiny hut. The rain battered the roof above their heads, and each hard pitter patter was a terrifying jab to Brendon's chest.
"You're outta your mind, Jon," he laughed, although he couldn't quite stifle the nervous quiver to his voice. "Me? In love with Ryan? That's crazy talk. A boy can't be in love with a boy. That's illegal."
Jon merely shrugged as he rose to his feet, fetching a half-empty bottle of whiskey from underneath a dusty cupboard. "Tell that to your actions, kid." He popped the cap and took a long swig, completely oblivious to Brendon's racing heart. He was surprised Jon couldn't hear the rapid beats from where he stood.
"Wh-what makes ya think that, anyway?" Brendon went on. He knew he was only adding oxygen to the growing flames, but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't stop. He was tumbling down a never-ending hill with no way to slow himself.
Licking the whiskey off his smiling lips, Jon held the bottle out toward Brendon. "Jeez, kid, relax a little. Have a swig or somethin'. It'll calm your nerves."
"Stop avoidin' my question."
The thunder outside boomed yet again, but Jon didn't seem bothered in the slightest. He only sighed, capping the whiskey and setting it back down on the table. "You get flustered too easily, Brendon," he remarked. "Makes it hard for me to change my mind about your feelings."
"What feelings?" Brendon was growing more and more irritated by the second. Why did Jon keep beating around the bush like this? It was getting on his nerves.
"Really?" Jon raised an eyebrow, his eyes glimmering in the candlelight. "We just went over this. Your feelings for Ryan? Is that ringin' a bell?"
"I do not have those kinds of feelings for him," Brendon said through gritted teeth. He found himself rising to his feet to face Jon, too, the blood boiling in his veins.
"Go ahead and keep denyin' it, Brendon," Jon said with a shrug, taking the bottle of whiskey once again. "The more you deny it, the more you make me believe it's true."
"Will you stop?!" Brendon's shout was nearly masked by the deafening crack of thunder outside.
And as usual, Jon had no reaction to his outburst whatsoever.
Brendon wanted to cry. He wanted to break down and cry, right there on the spot. He couldn't say anything without Jon taking it and using it against him. His own words were now a weapon, his worst weakness, and he had nothing to defend himself with. Why was Jon so determined to get underneath his skin? He and Ryan were just friends, and only friends. What was so difficult to understand about that?
Jon found a small glass from his cupboard and poured a shot of whiskey into it, the sharp smell of alcohol permeating the still air around them. "You need somethin' to take the edge off, Brendon," he said, shoving the glass into Brendon's limp hands. "Go on. Take a sip. I won't tell anyone."
But Brendon didn't take a sip. His stomach was a hurricane of nausea, and anything he put in his body he feared would immediately come back up.
"Why are you so freaked out?" Jon pressed, absentmindedly tracing the neck of the bottle with his fingertip.
"Because you're tryin' to tell me I'm in love with my best friend!" Brendon cried. He nearly spilled the alcohol all over his shoes. "Do you know what the fuzz would do to me if they found out? They'd send me to the fruitcake factory! And I wouldn't last a day in the fruitcake factory!"
"No one said you were goin' to the fruitcake factory," Jon reasoned calmly.
"But you implied it!"
Bright lightning flashed outside; Jon heaved a sigh. "Listen, kid," he began, "I ain't gonna judge ya if you're actually in love with Ryan. And before ya start barkin' at me again, let me talk. There's nothin' wrong with it. Just because the general public might think it's weird, that doesn't mean ya have to follow their rules. Hell, I've been goin' against them for nearly ten years."
Brendon had to do a double take. Did he--
"Yep, you heard me." Jon grinned in the dim candlelight. "Jon Walker's a grade-A fag, and damn proud of it."
"But--" Brendon was beyond confused. He couldn't wrap his head around anything anymore. "But what about the fuzz? The fruitcake factory?"
Jon scoffed, draining the last drop of whiskey from the bottle. "It's all for show. Unless you get caught foolin' around with some dame's husband, no one really bats an eye."
"You sound like you're speakin' from experience," Brendon said, but even he couldn't hide his amusement when Jon flashed him a wink.
"She never found out, and she never will."
Jon Walker sure was something else.
Brendon wasn't entirely certain what it was right then, but the buzz in the air seemed to shift. Maybe it was just the spark from the storm outside. Maybe it was just the flickering flames from the candles, but the little hut felt different than it had moments before, and Brendon didn't know why.
"Look," Jon continued, ripping Brendon from his thoughts, "I know I might be talkin' outta my ass here, but I know love when I see it. You and Ryan have known each other for, what, maybe a week or so? And I don't think I've ever seen a friendship spark as quickly as yours."
Brendon found himself listening more intently than ever.
"I could tell somethin' was up the moment I first met ya. Now, I don't know what the hell it was, but I've been around long enough to recognize a spark of love when I see it. You and Ryan might as well have been twins, what with the matchin' smiles, the matchin' vitality, the matchin' glimmer in your eyes. I didn't say anythin' at first 'cause I didn't wanna scare ya off, but I think we've gotten to know each other enough by now, right?"
Brendon nodded. They definitely had, even if he still didn't know all the facts. He felt comfortable around Jon, and that was enough for him.
"That's good." Jon fished a new cigarette out of his pocket. "Now, I know our meetings have been kinda rocky, what with the whole money situation and whatnot, but if you're gonna trust me on one thing, Brendon, let it be this. I know genuine love when I see it, and never, not once in my whole life, have I ever felt more strongly about a couple of folks than I have about you and Ryan. You two share somethin' special, kid. Don't let it go."
The thunder crackled and the rain poured as Jon took a drag of his cigarette, a faint smile adorning his tired face.
Maybe he was right. Brendon knew there was something different about Ryan since the moment they first met, but he could never figure out what it was. From the shared smiles, to the genuine laughter, to the way he felt when they were in the same room. It never made a lick of sense before, but now....
Maybe Jon really was right. Brendon couldn't find any other explanation for it, no matter how hard he tried.
He was in love with Ryan Ross.
He downed the glass of whiskey in one swift gulp.
~~~~~
THE GAY HAS BEEN ACCEPTED LET US REJOICE
So remember how prom was supposed to be yesterday? Yeah well those plans kinda got messed up because of a bLIZZARD. A BLIZZARD. IT'S THE MIDDLE OF APRIL. And there was a severe thunderstorm Friday night. Woke up Saturday morning to at least five inches of snow and complete white-out conditions. Mother Nature, go home, you're drunk
Now we've gotta reschedule all of our appointments and arrange for a new banquet venue and fun stuff. I love weather
Anyway, I cannot wait for school to be over. I'm so sick of this garbage, wbu? Actually makes me wanna cry thinking about Monday and a whole damn week ahead
Also, Insomnolence (my completed Ryden AU) is almost at 3k reads! So if you haven't read it before, I'd love ya to bits if you checked it out ;)
Your guys' love and support literally makes my life. I read every single comment, and even if I don't respond, just know that I'm smiling like an idiot behind my screen. I don't know what I'd do without them. You guys make me so happy :)))
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