Spencer swirled the diet coke in his blistered hands. At least the tour had finished and they could finally go home.
Footsteps echoed across the hall. Spencer raised his head slightly and saw Brendon beaming at him from across the hotel lobby. Spencer smiled back until he heard giggling from around the corner.
Sarah bounded over to Brendon like a little terrier, slipping her hand into his and pecking him on the cheek. His attention turned to her.
Spencer lowered his head and felt the smile quickly fade from his face. His stomach curled and he felt his heart shrink. It’s not that he hates Sarah exactly; she’s really nice and seems to make Brendon… happy.
Spencer swallowed roughly, drinking his coke quickly to disguise as Dallon raised a questioning brow at him.
He didn’t actually know the true reason why this feeling of utter hatred rose inside of him whenever Sarah entered the room. All he knew for sure was that it wasn’t a feeling that he enjoyed.
Spencer dared to take another glance; Brendon seemed to be taking his time joining them on the sofa…
Wrong move. They were making out.
Spencer’s stomach lurched at the sight, as if it was crying out at him to look away. He decided to try and distract himself by joining in with Ian and Dallon’s conversation…
“… but they totally make me look awesome!” Ian exclaimed, clearly halfway through a debate.
“No, Ian. You are not wearing those on our next tour!” Dallon retaliated.
Oh, Spencer realised they were arguing over whether Ian’s on-stage-sunglasses were a good idea or not. He decided that this was not a debate which he wanted to be a part of. Instead, he returned to swirling his slightly flat drink.
The sofa bounced slightly and Spencer looked up to see that Brendon had collapsed next to him. A quick look around told him that Sarah must have popped out as she was nowhere in sight.
“Hey, where’s that thing that was on your lips?” Spencer asked, attempting (unsuccessfully) to hide a smile.
“What thing?” Brendon puzzled, absentmindedly stroking his lips.
“Sarah.” He replied, grinning. He liked having Brendon to himself, no ‘love-blinded’, psychotic fans to interrupt them. And, best of all, no Sarah.
Brendon chuckled. Spencer loved his chuckle, the way he instantly looked down afterwards, self-conscious for no apparent reason that Spencer could see.
No, Spencer thought to himself, I’m over this. He’s with Sarah now. He’s happy. I have to move on.
But that smile… Spencer’s heart melted every time that guilty little smiled danced across Brendon’s face.
He shook his head and stood up, mumbling something about needing to stretch his legs. It was really just an excuse to clear his head. He seriously needed to stop this ridiculous crush on Brendon. He was his best friend! Heck, he was gonna be his best man when Brendon actually finds the courage to ask the she-demon!
The cold British air immediately encased him as the doors slid open. Spencer loved Britain, he really did. The food, the friendly atmosphere, the accent… but the weather? That he could do without.
He shuddered and pulled his coat tighter around him, savouring what warmth he had. The sea air rushed at him, it reminded him of home. The hours that he used to spend surfing with Brendon and then relaxing in the afternoon sun. The days before Sarah.
Brighton had a couple of nice beaches, he chose the one closest to the hotel.
It was a brisk walk away but Spencer didn’t really mind. The seaside was always a good place to think so it was worth the slight exercise. Luckily it was too early for annoying little kids to be running around, screaming and managing to drop ice-cream everywhere. There was only a dog walker (all though it looked more like the dog walking the man) and a man with a sketch pad who Spencer guessed to be some kind of artist.
Removing his purple converses, Spencer paddled ankle deep into the glistening blue sea. He closed his eyes and tried to reminisce the times when it was just him and Brendon…
2 years ago
“Coffee?” Brendon called.
Spencer grunted some form of a ‘yes please’ and shuffled to the sofa. When it came to mornings, he was most definitely a Garfield.
Brendon put the mugs down on the table and nudged Spencer’s legs over so that he could sit down. Once comfortable he snuggled up to Spencer.
Spencer sighed. As much as he loved Brendon cuddling with him, he had to keep telling himself that it was just what Brendon did. It didn’t mean anything. Argh, why did he have to be that cute? More importantly, why did he have to be straight?
Brendon knew Spencer was gay. What he didn’t know was the wonderful fuzzy feeling he felt when they were together. The way his heart melted like butter every time Brendon smiled. The way his heart broke a little whenever Brendon got another date. The way that he just couldn’t help falling more in love with him every day. And for now, Spencer preferred to keep it that way.
They slurped their coffee in silence for a while. Spencer was pretty much unsociable until he’d had his caffeine to wake him up.
“Hey, Spence, can we go to the beach?!” Brendon asked, a childlike grin spread across his rosy cheeks, warm from the hot beverage. His deep brown eyes full of excitement like a little boy at Christmas.
“Sure.” Spencer smiled, feeling slightly more sociable as he finished his coffee. Besides, how could he say no to those gorgeous and hopeful eyes?
The beach was quiet. They both loved it when they had the whole beach to themselves.
Spencer whipped out a Queen beach towel and laid it down upon the golden sand. He collapsed onto it, arms raised to support his head in a position so that he could watch Brendon who was happily splashing around in the sea. Spencer chuckled as his best friend’s inner child was let loose. Just one of the many things that made Spencer love him.
He closed his eyes but was soon woken by water splattering his stomach. It can’t be raining, it’s July, Spencer thought to himself, reluctantly opening his eyes. Brendon was standing over him, beaming and dripping wet.
“Whatdoyouwant?” Spencer mumbled grumpily. Apparently the coffee had worn off already.
“Come in the water!” Brendon begged. When Spencer didn’t reply Brendon gave him a gentle kick on the shin.
“Alright, alright!” he gave in, brushing the sand off his legs. He rolled his three-quarters up a little higher and waded into the vast blue waters. Brendon splashed him and Spencer chuckled, playfully splashing back.
Opening his eyes, Spencer half-hoped to still see a smiling Brendon splashing around in front of him. Unfortunately, all he saw was a very soggy dog and a rather exasperated owner. He began to walk back to the hotel, dragging his feet slightly. Being in love sucked.
What’s taking him so long?
Brendon tapped his knee impatiently. Spencer had said he was just stretching his legs for a minute. Brendon was no genius but he did know that that does not take 25 minutes!
“What the hell’s up with Spence today?” Ian said, voicing Brendon’s thoughts.
He shrugged his shoulders. Seriously though, what was wrong with Spencer? He seemed really… distant.
“More like what’s been up with Spencer all week?!” Dallon corrected him, delving into an apple from the complementary fruit bowl on the table.
It was true. Spencer rarely ever spoke to any of them anymore unless it was something about the band. Every time Brendon made an attempt at conversation, Spencer would look away awkwardly and mumble a pathetic excuse to leave the room. Brendon just could not figure it out!
“I guess he’s just tired from the tour,” Ian suggested, “How are things with you and Sarah, anyway? Gotten the courage to pop the big question yet Bren?” He nudged his friend and waggled his eyebrows.
“It’s going great, I guess. I just… I need to find the right moment, that’s all.” He answered, although not entirely truthfully.
Sarah was beautiful, and kind, and smart, and honest. Pretty much all you could wish for in a girl. Yet Brendon couldn’t stop wondering whether she really was ‘the one’.
At that moment the Lobby door’s swung open, distracting him from his train of thought. Spencer had finally returned from ‘stretching his legs’.
He raced up to his friend, about to hug him but settling for a pat on the shoulder when he got a glimpse of his expression. That stormy look didn’t exactly scream ‘hug me!’ but gave off more of a back off vibe.
“Hey Spence, did you have a nice time flying to China and back?” Brendon joked. Spencer was definitely not himself as he looked confused for a few minutes. But then his face relaxed as he realised this was just Brendon’s poor attempt at humour.
He gave Brendon a weak smile and walked past him to collect his stuff.
“Are we going then?” Spencer asked, lifting his big suitcase with ease. Being a drummer really seemed to give him a lot of upper strength, Brendon realised.
“Yeah, we just need to wait for Sarah to get back from her last-minute-shopping-spree,” Brendon answered.
“Oh…” was all that Spencer could manage. Although Brendon could’ve sworn he muttered something else under his breath but he didn’t know what. He did notice, however, that Spencer wasn’t suddenly gripping his suitcase handle much tighter than necessary.
After about 2 hours of vicious sawing, Spencer managed to slice off part of his meal. Plastic knives were a pointless invention, he thought to himself, trying to swallow the cardboard flavoured bangers and mash that had been placed in front of him.
“My guitar picks could cut better than this piece of junk.” Ian remarked. He appeared to be in the same situation as Spencer.
“Can I get you anything, sirs?” a young blonde airhostess asked, trying her best not to spill anything from the trolley she was wheeling.
“Just a coke please,” Dallon said without looking up. Nothing distracts Dallon from food, not even hot airhostesses.
“And some better cutlery…” Spencer heard Ian mutter under his breath. They all smirked at each other. Air hostess lady moved on and Spencer glanced across the aisle quickly, only to see Brendon and Sarah, laughing and watching the same movie but on their own individual screens. Their hands were entwined.
Spencer winced as he remembered him and Brendon giggling like schoolgirls at movies and cuddled up together. Back when it was just them. He hurriedly turned back to his so-called ‘meal’ and continued hacking at the sausage and mashed potatoes lying limply before him. He checked his watch. Five more hours until they were home. Great, he thought to himself, that’s five more hours of me feeling sorry for myself.
Spencer, Ian and Dallon all decided to kill time by playing four and a half hours worth of Uno (Dallon winning most of them, of course, as he’s Uno King).
Spencer was happily debating who had won the final Uno game when he noticed the happy couple once again and his heart sank back down to depressed mode.
“Hey guys…” Brendon called them over.
Here it comes, Spencer thought as he expected the worst, he’s done it. He asked her and she said yes. They are getting married.
“I just wanted to let you know that Sarah…” Spencer sighed and began leafing through the Kerrang magazine he’d bought, not really wanting to listen. “… is going away to see her parents again for a few months. I’ll just see her off then I’ll be back, okay?” Brendon said, his face unreadable. Spencer couldn’t tell if Brendon thought this was good news or not.
For Spencer, however, this was very good news indeed.
“I hope you’ve taken good care of her!”
“Yes, Mrs Orzechowski.” Brendon recited, feeling like he was back in preschool.
Sarah’s mother sat in the driver’s seat of a red Hummer. Her wispy grey hair was tied up in rollers and there was a stern look planted on her face.
Brendon had met Sarah’s family once before for Christmas dinner. They looked a bit… well, rough, but they were kind at heart.
He gave Sarah one more kiss goodbye before waving her off. As the car rounded the corner out of sight, Brendon felt an odd feeling bubbling up inside of him. It was a mixture of joy and relief…
Shane dropped by to pick them all up in the minivan. Brendon went to the back to sit next to Spencer. He was determined to find out what was troubling his friend, one way or another. And he had 3 months to do it.
“Dude, you reek!” he said. It seemed like a good way to start a conversation.
Spencer sniffed his shirt and immediately recoiled, pulling a face.
“Your face reeks.” was his reply. This was the Spencer that he knew and loved.
“Seriously, though. When did you last take a shower, man?” Brendon pinched his nose and jokingly shuffled as far away from Spencer as his seatbelt would let him.
Spencer furrowed his brow in concentration, counting on his worn fingers.
“Tuesday…?” he said, although he sounded unsure.
“Four days ago? Remind me why I’m sat next to you?!” said Brendon, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
“Because you have no other friends.” said Spencer, completely failing at an attempt to be serious. They both collapsed in laughter.
Just like old times, Brendon reminisced, smiling to himself.
2 years ago
Brendon flipped the pancakes but was, as usual, unsuccessful. Pancake batter landed all over his shirt and splattered the kitchen counter.
Spencer came bounding down stairs but slowed as he took in the mess.
“Oh, you’re making pancakes. Gimme one.” he said, taking a seat at the table and tutting as he wiped muck off of the table cloth. Brendon purposefully flipped a bit more batter in his direction before sliding the pancakes onto two plates and placing them on the table.
Spencer sat there staring inquisitively at his dish for a minute.
“What is this?” he said, looking slightly horrified.
“Pancakes…” Brendon blushed as Spencer gave him a look as if to say go on. “I tried to make them into little instruments…”
Spencer twisted his plate around, trying to work out how the blobs in front of him looked anything like a musical instrument.
“It’s supposed to be a drum,” Brendon murmured, going an even deeper shade of red. Cooking was not his specialty.
“It looks more like a duck,” Spencer winked and then devoured his pancake, “Mmm… a tasty duck.”
Brendon laughed and munched on his own attempt at a guitar. It was pretty delicious.
Shane dropped Dallon off at his house first. His wife ran out to welcome him back, encasing him in kisses. Brendon smiled, remembering Sarah. Spencer smiled too, and Brendon wondered what he was thinking about. They waved goodbye and decided to do an Uno rematch until they reached Ian’s place.
Before long, Brendon and Spencer were thanking Shane for the lift and clambering out of the van.
Home at last.
Spencer was beaming as he unlocked the front door. 3 months alone with Brendon, he thought gleefully.
Brendon bounded up the path behind him, suitcase in hand. Once the door was opened they both collapsed on top of each other on the worn leather sofa, relieved that it wasn’t in a smelly hotel room with bad heating.
“Gerrofme…” Spencer mumbled. As much as he loved the feel of Brendon’s body against his, he did need to breathe at some point.
“Sorry.” Brendon said, shifting off of him so that Spencer’s mouth was free of elbow.
“Thanks.” he said, yawning and stretching, making sure that one of his outstretched hands whacked Brendon on the head. Brendon gave him a stern look but Spencer’s cheeky grin soon earned his forgiveness.
Brendon leapt up and began rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, trying to find something. Spencer couldn’t remember the last time they’d stocked up on provisions.
“Are we out of Lammas Bread?” Spencer said in his best Sam Gamgee impression. He was a humungous Lord of the Rings geek.
“I think you ate it all, Sam!” Brendon chuckled, trying to pull off a very bad version of Frodo Baggins. He pulled out a tin of Galaxy Hot Chocolate.
“Aha! My precious!” Brendon pranced around doing his world-renowned Gollum impression, clutching the tin close to his chest. They both fell into laughing fits as Brendon fixed them up hot chocolates (with extra marshmallows, of course) and Spencer continued making random LOTR quotes.
They sat back down on the sofa, drinks in hand, and Brendon began flicking through weird documentaries until he settled on one about Dinosaurs.
Spencer rolled his eyes and snatched the remote.
After 10 minutes of non-stop-channel-changing he managed to find Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, their favourite Harry Potter film. Because Tom Felton looks particularly hot in it, Spencer thought to himself.
Brendon snuggled up closer to him, like he always does during movies. Spencer’s heart pounded and he struggled to resist the urge to run his hand through Brendon’s soft, tousled hair. He bit his lip and settled for a casual arm-on-back-of-sofa pose.
Spencer was practically asleep by the time the movie finished. He glanced at Brendon, he seemed to be nodding off as well.
“Come on. Bed.” Spencer grumbled sleepily, nudging Brendon to check he was still awake. Brendon gave a murmured reply which Spencer couldn’t quite translate to proper English. He decided to just heave him off the sofa and half-carry, half-drag him upstairs.
There was only one bedroom in their small house, but there was enough room for two single beds, a wardrobe, and a TV. They debated having a double bed to give them more room but Spencer said he rolled around a lot so they went with the single ones. The real reason was that Spencer didn’t think he could handle sharing a bed with Brendon without holding him close every night.
They removed their clothes and climbed into their separate beds wearing nothing but their boxers. Brendon’s had dinosaurs on them.
Spencer didn’t even manage to say goodnight before falling asleep in his own comfy bed (with no itchy hotel sheets). ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brendon woke with a start. He checked his phone for the time.
He groaned and rolled over to face the wall, trying to recall the strange dream which had caused him to wake so abruptly.
He had been sat in a romantic restaurant somewhere, Sarah sat opposite him. They were eating a delicious meal and laughing together, having a wonderful time. Brendon had gotten up and knelt down next to Sarah. He pulled out a ring and said:
Suddenly his voice disappeared. He tried to speak but nothing came out, he even tried to mime the question! Sarah misinterpreted it and just grew increasingly angrier. Her face was red and stormy; she grew taller and towered over Brendon who was now cowering on the floor. All the tables were shaking, glasses smashed around them. He thought he was done for, when the doors suddenly burst open and someone entered! His hero! And the person was… was…
Come on, Brendon thought to himself, think! Who was the hero?
It was no good. His mind had gone blank. The strangest thing about the dream was that he knew he should be considering it as a nightmare, with Sarah reacting the way she did, but he found it wasn’t actually that bad. He shook the idea out of his head. No, it was a horrible dream. He loved Sarah. At least, he thought he did.
He sighed. His head was so messed up right now. He searched his bedside table for his glasses and put them on. He pushed up off the bed and shoved on some old sweat pants before shuffling off to the bathroom.
Brendon splashed his face with ice cold water a few times, gasping at the instant shock. He stared hard at his dripping face in the mirror.
“Was that dream trying to tell me something?” he asked his reflection.
He looked terrible. His hair was greasy and sticking up in odd places. There were huge dark lines under his bloodshot eyes. He wondered what Sarah saw in him. Whatever it was, he definitely couldn’t see it.
He looked away, rubbing his eyes sleepily and deciding that a cold shower might jog his memory.
His plan was apparently unsuccessful, he realised as he stepped out of the shower. Although it had definitely woken him up. He shivered slightly and ventured back into the bedroom in search of some form of clothing.
His hanging space was on the right side of the wardrobe. Well, it was supposed to be. Brendon and Spencer tended to just wear each other’s clothes, depending on whatever took their fancy.
He was busy rummaging around in an attempt to find something near decent to wear, when he felt a cold hand briefly touch his back. He whirled around in shock to find Spencer standing there stiffly, his face emotionless.
“Your towel was, er, falling down…” he said, almost monotonously. He had a strange look in his eyes and his cheeks were pale. He looked away quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Oh, thanks.” Brendon replied. He hadn’t realised that Spencer was even awake; he’d just walked straight to the wardrobe. He readjusted his towel and continued searching, but he couldn’t help wondering why Spencer had reacted in such a peculiar way. They’d seen each other naked before; when you’re in a band together it’s kind of hard not to. He decided not to dwell on it and pulled on Spencer’s ‘Owl Be there’ t-shirt which had 3 cute owls on it. It looked better on Spencer but oh well. He then yanked on the cleanest pair of jeans he could find and hacked at his hair for a bit before giving up and heading downstairs.
As he lumbered down the stairs he kind of expected Spencer to be lovingly cooking him breakfast as an apology for overreacting earlier. Instead, he found him quietly staring out of the window, sipping his coffee distantly. Brendon cleared his throat loudly.
“Oh, hey! You’re dressed!” he said, acting as if he’d just come out of some kind of trance. A fake smile was plastered on his face. It was like he was trying to pretend the towel incident hadn’t even happened. Brendon was kind of glad for this but also a bit suspicious about why he was making it out to be such a big deal.
“I’ll have some toast, please.” Brendon surprised himself by using manners. It’s not something he usually does, especially with Spencer. His friend didn’t take any notice and routinely popped four pieces of bread into the toaster.
Despite Spencer’s strangely cheery attitude, there was still an awkward silence lingering around the house.
“Are you, er, getting dressed after breakfast, then?” Brendon asked, desperate to strike up a conversation. He expected Spencer’s usual sarcastic answer of ‘No, I’m going out like this.’ followed by an eye roll.
But Spencer just looked down at his coffee-stained dressing gown and boxers combo and nodded.
Spencer turning down the perfect opportunity for sarcasm? Something was definitely wrong. They stood in silence for a minute or two. When the toast popped out of the toaster they both jumped slightly. They sat there eating breakfast quietly when Spencer furrowed his brow at Brendon.
“Hey! That’s my owl top!” he accused Brendon.
“Oh, yeah. Spencer, can I borrow your owl top?” Brendon grinned back.
Spencer rolled his eyes (apparently back to his normal self) but nodded, grinning too. The conversation sparked up again and Brendon completely forgot about his dream.
Spencer sat stiffly on his bed, staring at the wall.
“Argh,” he grunted, putting his head into his hands, annoyed at himself.
Why didn’t I just say “Hey, you should pick your towel up. It’s slipping down a bit.”, Spencer thought angrily, instead of awkwardly picking it up himself?
He threw a pillow at the wall in frustration, sighed some more, then decided he should probably get dressed.
He flung open the wardrobe doors and rifled through the assortment of clothes before him. Spencer winced as he remembered Brendon doing the exact same thing this morning, right before he decided to be an idiot. He kicked the wardrobe but instantly buckled backwards onto the bed, clutching his toe in agony.
“You alright up there, Spence?” he heard Brendon yelling from the Kitchen. He’d either heard the thud of foot-against-wood or Spencer’s toe was crying out in pain. Both seemed plausible.
“Yup.” He managed to yell back through gritted teeth. The hand clutching his foot suddenly felt warm and wet. He lifted two fingers and red liquid dropped to the floor. He was bleeding.
Great, he thought to himself.
“Actually Brendon, on second thoughts, I’m not alright!” he cried at the closed door, still wincing. He heard cupboard doors slamming, stumbling, and then footsteps coming towards him. Brendon burst through the door with a First Aid Kit, looking very alarmed.
Spencer laughed weakly. Brendon always expected the worst.
“What’s happened? Did you fall over? Did you hit your head on something? Is your head okay? Is it bleeding? How many fingers am I holding up?!” Brendon rambled worriedly, inspecting Spencer thoroughly and then holding two fingers up in front of his face. Spencer pushed them out of the way with his free hand.
“Dude! I just stubbed my toe! Chill!” he grinned despite the pain to prove to Brendon that he wasn’t dying.
It didn’t seem to make him worry any less. He began emptying the contents of the First Aid Kit onto the floor and then knelt down beside it. He worked quickly and carefully, gently rubbing a horrid burning liquid onto the cut before covering it up with a small Band-Aid which had flowers on it. Spencer raised an eyebrow at the girlish design and Brendon just winked at him. The process would’ve been a lot quicker, however, if Brendon hadn’t kept pausing every 3 seconds to check that Spencer was still conscious.
“Thanks, Bren. I’m fine now, though.” He said, but as he saw the look of genuine concern on his friend’s face he added, “Honestly, I am!”
“Okay… if you need any help, you know, getting dressed or something, just call…” he said, blushing and becoming very interested in his feet all of a sudden.
“Erm, thanks but I think I’ll manage…” he smiled awkwardly. To be honest, he would’ve quite enjoyed Brendon helping him to dress him, sliding off his clothes gently and… no. He shook himself a bit; he did not need any of that this morning. Things were uncomfortable enough without him thinking things like that.
He grabbed the closest top he could reach without too much movement (a red one with little ducks on it) and managed to slide some jeans over his injured toe. He held a pair of socks for a minute before coming to the conclusion that he probably shouldn’t risk any more pain. Instead, he stole a pair of Brendon’s many fluffy slippers.
He shuffled downstairs to find Brendon randomly packing a picnic basket. By now, Spencer was used to Brendon’s out-of-the-blue ideas so he didn’t think twice about it. Brendon hadn’t seemed to hear him enter and continued making sandwiches.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, casually leaning against the doorway.
“Hmm? Oh, this. We’re having a picnic.” Brendon smiled over his shoulder.
“We’re having a picnic?” Spencer repeated looking down at his poorly feet, “Have you forgotten that I cannot wear socks at the moment, let alone shoes. There is no way I am leaving this house!”
“You’re not leaving this house. Well, not exactly.” Brendon chuckled and gestured towards the back door. Spencer could just about make out a red checkered blanket lying on the lawn through the blurred glass.
“A picnic in the garden? Brilliant.” Spencer beamed. He pulled open the sliding door and made his way over to the blanket. This was just what he needed to take his mind off things. Brendon plodded down next to him and placed the picnic basket down next to him.
Spencer reached into the basket but Brendon swatted his hand away as if it was a fly.
“Dude, we just had breakfast!’ he exclaimed.
“I like sandwiches…” Spencer mumbled in reply. He didn’t care what time of day it was, he wanted food.
Brendon rolled his eyes mockingly and gently kicked a football that was lying nearby.
“Best of Three?” he said, a glint in his eye.
Spencer wiggled his poorly toe.
“I guess I can manage. You’re on!” Spencer grinned, springing to his feet.
It lead on to be Best of Five, and then Best of Ten. It was half past two when they finished. They collapsed onto the blanket, sweat beaded their foreheads.
“I... totally… won… that!” Brendon panted.
Spencer had no breath left to speak so he just shook his head weakly and delved into the picnic basket. He smiled as he pulled out a chocolate spread sandwich.
Spencer nearly hugged Brendon with glee at the sight. Inside there was also some cheese and crackers, grapes, two bottles of Mountain Dew, and two massive chocolate cupcakes. Spencer couldn’t stop grinning at this magnificent feast.
He didn’t know where to start! He took a bite out of a sandwich, popped a few grapes into his mouth, smeared cheese on a cracker before stuffing that in as well, and slurped it all down with half a bottle of Mountain Dew. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sweaty hand.
“Pig.” Brendon said, eyes crinkling as he delicately nibbled on his own sandwich.
Spencer scrunched up his nose and snorted, Brendon laughed and sprayed crumbs everywhere. He managed to get chocolate on his cheek, so Spencer leaned over and wiped it off for him. They smiled at each other as they ate.
They relaxed as they cheerfully munched on the delicious picnic. The afternoon sun beat down on them, making them feel drowsy. Spencer was nearly asleep, cupcake half eaten, when the Mexican Hat Dance suddenly began playing from within the house.
“Bren, phone.” Spencer muttered, refusing to open his eyes.
Brendon grumbled something, swore a couple of times, and then pushed himself up. Spencer heard the door slam open and Brendon’s footsteps dying away. The ringing stopped. Spencer relaxed and wondered who could be calling.
Maybe it was Ian, calling to arrange an Uno grand final?
Maybe it was Shane, coming up with another brilliant video idea?
Heck, maybe it was Ryan or Jon, calling for a little reunion?
Maybe it was Brent? No, no. It wouldn’t be Brent. They hated each other.
Spencer’s brain hurt from the possibilities so he just shrugged them off and went back to daydreaming about Tom Felton…
Ten minutes later he heard the door open again and unwillingly opened one eye. Brendon was smiling as he sat down. Spencer immediately knew it couldn’t have been Brent that called.
“Well…?” he questioned, after a few minutes of silence.
“Well what?” Brendon replied.
“Who called?” Spencer said, propping himself up on his elbow so that Brendon could see him rolling his eyes.
“Oh. I t was just Sarah, checking to see if we were okay.” He said casually, wiping some dirt off his jeans.
Spencer felt his heart sink down his chest. He suddenly felt empty inside. Empty and ice cold. The mention of her name just reminded him of how he would never have a chance with the gorgeous man sitting next to him. He swallowed loudly. His throat had suddenly become dry. He stood up silently and walked back into the house.
Chapter Two: http://bdens-top-hat.livejournal.com/1952.html