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“Come on, open the door!” Brendon barks; trying as best he can not to sound angry- he’s not angry, not really. He’s banging on Ryan’s front door with both fists, sweating from the summer heat. School ended almost three weeks ago and since then, he’s spent every day trying desperately to meet Ryan and apologize; win him back. He’s almost about to give up, when he hears the lock of the door click open and the door is pulled ajar.

“Brendon, it’s better if you stop trying to break the door down, dude.” Spencer tells him, in a quiet, soothing whisper. He’s been there for a while; he’s bare foot and wearing a tee shirt with jeans. His hair’s a little messy too and Brendon sort of wonders- more dreads- that he and Ryan might have-

“Is that him?” Ryan calls from inside the house; probably the living room, or maybe the kitchen and Spencer tells him yes. “Hey Brendon?” He calls, even louder this time, but making no attempt to move from wherever the hell he is. “Blow me.” He finishes and Spencer purses his lips together; an apologetic expression plastered across his face. He shrugs.

“So he’s still mad then.” Brendon sighs.

“Least he’s talking to you.” Spencer weakly replies.

“Progress. Just, tell me what I have to do to get him back, please?”

Spencer pauses, then steps outside, closing the door almost fully behind him. He explains to Brendon that Ryan has issues with believing Brendon won’t betray him again and suggests a “grand gesture” to prove himself. Brendon thinks, then, thinking of a plan suddenly, asks if he’ll be home tonight.

“Jon and I are staying with him tonight, so yes, but he’ll probably be drunk after nine.” Spencer says, folding his arms across his chest and rolling blue eyes around in his skull. He really hates how Ryan is always drunk these days, but Brendon understands why, so he isn’t awfully bothered anymore.

“Thank you.” Brendon says, pushing his hands together in front of his head and bowing slightly. He retreats to the bottom of the street and jogs home, devising a plan to get his boy back on side.

*

As soon as Spencer returns to the living room, Jon pats the space between his legs. He’s been lying on the sofa and, until the doorbell rang a minute ago, Spencer was lying with him. Jon’s finally taken off his sweater- Spencer had tried to get him to remove it when he first walked into Ryan’s, but Jon had told him no, because the deer on it was adorable and he was going to name it Larry. Spencer wasn’t quite sure if Jon was kidding, but laughed anyway.

“Where’s Grumpy?” Spencer asks and Jon rolls his eyes, swinging his legs to the floor and sitting up; back hunched over his lap, before telling him, Ryan is upstairs.

“It’s crazy; they’re so cute together, he should just forgive him, you know?” Jon sighs, wiping hair across his forehead and clasping his hands together over his knees. Spencer nods in agreement, then moves to sit next to Jon. For some reason, a lump is forming in his throat.

“I have to admit, Ryan sure is giving him a long sentence. It’s crazy, when two people adore each other so much, they should just be together. They’re just-”

“-both so stubborn.” Jon finishes and Spencer practically jumps, as he agrees. Jon laughs, relaxing his back into the corner of the sofa and rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. Spencer instinctively falls with him and works his head into a dip in Jon’s chest, dropping his arm over his waist. Jon clears his throat, then continues, “They have so much in common too, like-”

“-their temper?” Spencer jokes. “They’re practically made for each other.”

“Exactly.”

*

The boys are playing truth or dare in Ryan’s bedroom- Jon and Spencer’s futile attempt to force a tipsy Ryan to admit he loves Brendon- when Ryan asks something Jon can’t quite answer.

“Really?” Jon asks sarcastically, gripping a bottle of Russia’s finest, like it were his only source of oxygen. Ryan nods, scratching a deep scab on his shoulder until it bleeds and hissing when skin is torn away from it. It’s it own fault really, so he sees no need to announce he’s in pain- besides, it doesn’t hurt that much.

“Fuck off, I- I haven’t ever thought about it.” Jon says shyly; ducking his head downwards to stare at him own lap. Ryan gasps, laughing like a little girl.

“Liar! Look man, I’m gay and Spencer’s kissed me before, you’re allowed to have just thought about a guy like that, so just tell us. Who?” He yells, but he’s interrupted by what sounds like hailstones on his window. A wide, closed lipped grin creeps over Spencer’s mouth, so he looks down for subtlety’s sake. Ryan scampers to his feet and places a bottle of Jack Daniels on his windowsill, before pushing at the glass to open it. It squeaks open, stubbornly wanting to remain closed. Now that he thinks about it, the last time Ryan must have opened that window was months ago. When he looks out into the distance, the sun has almost set, but the sky is completely calm. Eyes scan the view to find the source of the noise, until they fall on Ryan’s back yard. He stutters out an exhale; a tiny chuckle falling from his lips, as his mouth opens in surprise and he steps back.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing- did you break into my fucking yard?” Ryan barks, somewhat smiling, despite angry eyebrows. Jon and Spencer cast each other wide-eyed looks and simultaneously get to their feet, to join Ryan at his window. Their jaws drop open momentarily. Jon makes a soft awing sound and his hand latches onto Spencer’s.

“That is so cute.” Spencer whispers to Jon and Jon hums in agreement. They stare at the sight below them; Brendon’s grand gesture.

The yard itself isn’t very large- especially considering the size of Ryan’s house. The grass in long all over and there is a small path bordering the soft land. Surrounding the yard is a tall fence, one that has been rammed into by young Ryan and his friends, as they play-fought. Brendon hasn’t had a lot to work with, but he certainly has made the most of what he was given. He must have climbed over the fence, which is about the same height as he is, before setting up the tent he had used during their camping trip almost a year ago. The tent is a little open, so the boys can almost see the sleeping bags he’s unzipped and draped over the tent floor to make a double bed- sort of. He’s also holding a rose, which Ryan thinks is a little cheesy, but Spencer insists it’s romantic and Jon just sighs at the “cuteness of it all.” Brendon holds the rose up as high as he can and waits for Ryan to say something.

“Brendon-” He starts, but he’s cut off.

“Don’t tell me,” Brendon calls up to him, smiling, because it’s been a while since he’s seen Ryan’s beautiful face. “You hate flowers and red is your least favorite color?” He laughs nervously. He’s sweating quite a lot now, through anticipation, through heat and more than anything, through working so Goddamn hard to pitch the tent up in the shallow soil.

“Brendon,” Ryan repeats; his voice soft and sure. “Go home.” His nostrils flare up, as he shuts the window. Brendon sees both Jon and Spencer turn their heads to stare at Ryan; shocked, but after a second, their faces disappear, also. Brendon sighs. He lifts another rock from the grass and throws it at the window again.

“I’m not giving up, you know.” Brendon calls out, but Ryan isn’t listening. He’s sitting on the carpet with his back against the foot of his bed, drinking from a bottle and frowning. Spencer cups his hand over Jon’s ear and whispers as quiet as he can, so Ryan can’t hear him- he isn’t even sure Jon hears him. He creeps out of Ryan’s room and down the stairs, into the kitchen and out of the back door.

“Don’t leave.” He instructs Brendon, very authoritatively. Brendon nods seriously. His face is deep in thought or possibly just deep in nothing; his eyebrows are furrowed, his lips are twisted to a small size, his eyes are narrowed and his nose has become a dragons- breathing heavy and fast.

“Will you talk to him?” Brendon asks and Spencer assures him he will. He asks Brendon if he wants something to drink, but Brendon declines gracefully and snuggles into his tent.

*

Ryan falls asleep on his carpet, not long after midnight; drooling like a dog. Spencer lifts his heavy head up, while Jon pushes a pillow under it and then drapes a blanket over his paralytic friend.

“You tired?” Jon asks when he sees Spencer cover his mouth and yawn. Spencer insists that he’s fine and Jon suggests they go downstairs to watch a movie. Spencer agrees with a smile on his face. It takes less than ten minutes of dialogue and a mismatched soundtrack, before Spencer’s sound asleep; his head on Jon’s lap and hand cupping Jon’s knee. When Jon spots his friend’s change in breathing, he whispers his name. Upon hearing no reply, he sighs and strokes strands of Spencer’s hair. He notes that it’s growing lighter because of the sun and in places, it’s almost blonde.
“I’m fine, honest. Wide awake.” Jon laughs, mimicking Spencer voice and whispering it to himself.

*

Ryan has a very vivid and wild dream about Brendon during the night- in fact, he wakes up in a sweat- so when he sees Brendon’s tent in the garden still, he sighs happily to himself. He kicks last night’s jeans off and replaces them with a comfortable pair of pajama bottoms, with an elastic waist. His tee shirt smells like alcohol and smoke, so he changes that too, ruffs up his hair and trips out of the room. He shuts the door behind him, but re-opens it immediately; eyes narrowed suspiciously. They scan his bed, then the floor, then behind the door.

“Guys?” Ryan asks to an empty room. His eyebrow darts up his face and his eyes widen suddenly. “Well, this is odd.”

His hunt for his friends is short and boring- the sound of his running downstairs wakes up Jon, who, in turn wakes Spencer. Spencer turns his head on Jon’s lap and when his eyes open, Jon is looking over him; embarrassed. Spencer sits up and runs his hands through his hair. Jon stretches his arms upwards and yawns tiredly. Spencer hums.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” He mutters and Jon shrugs, face still red.

“No biggie.” He concludes. He, then, stands from the sofa and pushes his palms into the lower of his back, bends the wrong way and cracks his spine, making Spencer shiver, because he hates the sound of cracking bones. Ryan stumbles into the living room and smirks, before asking what the two of his friends got up to during the night. Jon lifts the DVD case from the coffee table as an explanation, but Spencer’s looking embarrassed, so Ryan assumes the two made out. Spencer is getting into a habit of kissing drunken boys, so it wouldn’t be such a farfetched hypothesis. He waltzes out of the living room and into the kitchen.

Ryan’s getting used to the sting of a hangover; the dizziness and the thumping headaches and the churning in his stomach and the complete lack of energy. He’s found that coffee is a useful accompaniment to a hangover, because at least he has the stamina to get through the day. He makes himself a mug of coffee; leaving enough water in the kettle for at least four more cups and three fresh mugs on the counter, before pulling open a draw and searching for a key amongst overdue bills and pointless scraps of paper. The sound of the paper rustling bothers Ryan’s head and he groans at it uselessly. To fit the key into the flaking wooden door to his back yard, he has to balance the mug between the door and his stomach; lifting his knee as a makeshift table- just in case.

He quickly finds his garden hose and turns the wheel to allow the water to fill it up. When he hears Brendon stir from inside his tent, he leans on the outside wall of his house; foot cocked up against the brick and back pressed against it. One arm is folded across his chest and holding a mug. The other arm holds out the hose and waits. When Brendon unzips his tent, Ryan clears his throat and when Brendon emerges from his over-night home, the hose is turned straight on. Ryan only catches Brendon’s tired face and messy black hair for a moment, because just as his hands are pressing into the grass, he’s sent flying back into the back of his bed. The tent actually tips a little bit and Ryan laughs in an Oh-Shit-I-Didn’t-Expect-That sort of a way. He turns the hose off and sets it on the path next to him. He downs his coffee and makes for the center of the garden.

Brendon stumbles out from his tent, red-faced, angry and drenched. He pants as he tries to stand and gravity forces water to fall from his hair like a spars shower.

“Fucking hell!” He yells, but Ryan takes a hold of his soaked shirt. He tugs at the cloth over Brendon’s hip; balling it up in his fist as he stares into the wet boy’s eyes. Spencer and Jon, who have heard Brendon’s yelling, run to the scene and catch the show just as Ryan’s running his other hand through Brendon’s hair- trying to move it from his eyes. Brendon’s breathing increases in pace; he becomes nervous and hopeful and he’s falling more in love with Ryan with every second his hands are on him. His hands lift from his side and find a place on the bottom of Ryan’s back.

“Now we’re even, okay?” Ryan smirks, before slowly moving his face so close to Brendon’s that their breathing unites. When Ryan kisses Brendon, Jon lets out a quiet celebratory noise.

“Finally!” He shouts and Ryan turns; intending to give him an evil-eyed look, but being far too genuinely happy to do so and, instead, laughing. He hugs Brendon, burying his head in Brendon’s neck and breathing in the scent of his wet skin. He thinks to himself that he’ll probably have to give Brendon some of his own clothes to borrow, but right now, he’d just like to hug his boy in the garden for a little while. If that isn’t too much to ask for.