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Brendon always remembers the details.

His first kiss: he was wearing his Bright Eyes t-shirt, jeans with a hole in the left knee, glasses. They were touring. He never told anyone that he’d never kissed a girl. (He never told them that he’d never kissed a boy, either, but they assumed that anyway.) It was two days after he met Audrey. They had a double-date planned with Jac and Ryan. Spencer’s hair was long – past his chin, almost to his shoulders.

Spencer had said, “Good luck,” and cupped Brendon’s chin. Spencer’s lips were chapped and dry. The kiss was chaste, quick, not enough. Brendon was sitting on the bed; hotel room comforter under his hands. He almost followed when Spencer pulled away. He couldn’t. Brent was in the bathroom. Ryan was downstairs getting coffee. Spencer didn’t want that, anyway. It was merely for good luck.

Spencer had said so himself.

The first time he had sex: the smell of cigarette smoke, the back of the van, Ryan and Jac less than five feet away, just on the other side of the backseat. Brendon couldn’t breathe. Everything was too hot. He came too fast. Audrey laughed at him and bit his lip too hard, teeth sharper than he would’ve expected. The taste of blood. The taste of girl when he went down on her five minutes later, still catching his breath.

Catching his thumb in the belt loop of his jeans as they got dressed at top speed. Standing half-naked in the truck stop parking lot while Ryan promised Spencer that they didn’t get the van dirty. Spencer’s voice so loud over the phone that Brendon could hear it from ten feet away. Half-hard again inside his jeans. Getting off again later that night, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Spencer on their way to the next venue. Sticky inside his pants all night.

Headlining for the first time: lights so bright they burned, the fans screaming louder than ever before, having to tie his shoe right before they went on stage. Popping a button off his shirt at the end of Time To Dance. Spencer broke a drumstick halfway into the first song. That had never happened before. They laughed, after. Coke and run.

Fruit tray; red and green grapes, the last watermelon of the season, lemon cut to garnish the middle. The biggest dressing room. Red carpet, a grey sofa, too much make-up on Ryan’s face. Brent went missing. Phone calls with Pete. Tearing a hole in the collar of his Dinosaur Jr. t-shirt. Crying on the phone with his mom when she said how proud she was.

Meeting Jon: wearing red vans, listening to his iPod, eating an ice cream from McDonald’s. Jon’s hair was short. He was wearing flip flops and a plain white t-shirt. Half the grass at the venue was cut while the other half was long. Sitting on the curb and sharing headphones. A spider crawled on Brendon’s arm. A stray cat wandered at the edge of the parking lot.

Spencer was wearing pink. Spencer had said, “I could get my lip pierced.” Brendon laughed. Jon laughed, too. Spencer smiled. “Just kidding,” Spencer said. “I told Crystal that I would. She believes me.” Jon asked Brendon if he was gay. Brendon was surprised. He said no. Spencer frowned. Spencer was chewing gum. Brendon was eating skittles.

Having sex with Spencer (for the first time): red bull, a brand new pair of jeans, his pink hoodie. Hotel night. Free muffins in the lobby. Spencer kissed him first, right inside the hotel room door. Brendon kissed back. Spencer asked, nicely, tongue in Brendon’s mouth. Brendon couldn’t say no. Trial-size lube. One of the bedside lamps didn’t work. Brendon dropped his glasses on the floor.

Spencer smelled like cherries. He smelled like vanilla. Like axe. The mixture was nice. Spencer clenched his teeth into Brendon’s shoulder. There wasn’t blood, but there was a bruise. Brendon couldn’t keep his hands off of it for the week that it marked his skin.

Buying his condo: carpet under bare feet, seventy-five degree weather, brand new Gucci sunglasses, Spencer in the passenger seat as moral support. Streaks from windex on the windows, the smell of pine and orange, a fly buzzing around the front door. Spencer smiling. Hands on his hips. The realtor’s pinkpinkpink lipstick. Baby pink caked on too thick.

He singed the papers with a blue-ink pen. Laughed hysterically for a full ten minutes until he couldn’t breathe. Spencer’s hand on the back of his neck, soothing, fingers sliding, thumb pressing against Brendon’s pulse point. Spencer’s new cologne.

Getting his tattoo: the oddest kind of pain, butterflies in his stomach, Ryan laughing in the meanest way. Spencer was in Chicago with Jon. Brendon clutched his cell phone in his free hand and imagined holding someone’s hand. Scissors on the art desk. An out-of-place grandfather clock in the waiting area. Two teenage girls going into the back for piercings.

The half-empty snack machine. Beer in a mini-fridge in the corner. A picture of a dog on the desk. Black gloves.

Writing his first song with Spencer: mechanical pencils with little elephants on them, barking dogs in the back yard, Shane’s camera set up on a tripod in the corner, recording the process. Chinese take-out. Six extra pairs of chop sticks. A blown light bulb, leaving the room feeling too dark and too empty. Loose-leaf paper instead of a notebook. Two twelve-packs of coke.

Brendon laughed until he cried. Ripping a page in the dictionary. Playing with a ukulele. Singing Bohemian Rhapsody.

Moving in with Spencer: the long car ride with a backseat full of dogs, banana icees, spicy Doritos, Bob Dylan in the CD player. Passing a car with a Beatles bumper sticker. Sleeping on the living room floor for the first three nights. Waking up hard, spooning against Spencer’s back. Kissing. Morning breath. Not caring.

Surfing for a week straight. Watermelon. Barbeque for dinner. Sleeping until noon on the weekend.

Losing Jon and Ryan: fear. Pain like dying. Freedom. Happiness. Sushi. Blue Moon on draft. Coldplay on the radio. Spending six hours in the mall on a Wednesday. Playing phone-tag with his sister. Tossing a tennis ball for Bogart. Interviews. Exclamation points. Radio calls. Magazines. The inside of his eyelids. Red-blue-purple veins. Suffocating.

Realizing this is where he wants (needs) to be: Spencer.

Falling in love: Brendon remembers everything.

Description
Brendon always remembers the details.

His first kiss: he was wearing his Bright Eyes t-shirt, jeans with a hole in the left knee, glasses. They were touring. He never told anyone that he’d never kissed a girl. (He never told them that he’d never kissed a boy, either, but they assumed that anyway.) It was two days after he met Audrey. They had a double-date planned with Jac and Ryan. Spencer’s hair was long – past his chin, almost to his shoulders.

Spencer had said, “Good luck,” and cupped Brendon’s chin. Spencer’s lips were chapped and dry. The kiss was chaste, quick, not enough. Brendon was sitting on the bed; hotel room comforter under his hands. He almost followed when Spencer pulled away. He couldn’t. Brent was in the bathroom. Ryan was downstairs getting coffee. Spencer didn’t want that, anyway. It was merely for good luck.

Spencer had said so himself.

The first time he had sex: the smell of cigarette smoke, the back of the van, Ryan and Jac less than five feet away, just on the other side of the backseat. Brendon couldn’t breathe. Everything was too hot. He came too fast. Audrey laughed at him and bit his lip too hard, teeth sharper than he would’ve expected. The taste of blood. The taste of girl when he went down on her five minutes later, still catching his breath.

Catching his thumb in the belt loop of his jeans as they got dressed at top speed. Standing half-naked in the truck stop parking lot while Ryan promised Spencer that they didn’t get the van dirty. Spencer’s voice so loud over the phone that Brendon could hear it from ten feet away. Half-hard again inside his jeans. Getting off again later that night, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Spencer on their way to the next venue. Sticky inside his pants all night.

Headlining for the first time: lights so bright they burned, the fans screaming louder than ever before, having to tie his shoe right before they went on stage. Popping a button off his shirt at the end of Time To Dance. Spencer broke a drumstick halfway into the first song. That had never happened before. They laughed, after. Coke and run.

Fruit tray; red and green grapes, the last watermelon of the season, lemon cut to garnish the middle. The biggest dressing room. Red carpet, a grey sofa, too much make-up on Ryan’s face. Brent went missing. Phone calls with Pete. Tearing a hole in the collar of his Dinosaur Jr. t-shirt. Crying on the phone with his mom when she said how proud she was.

Meeting Jon: wearing red vans, listening to his iPod, eating an ice cream from McDonald’s. Jon’s hair was short. He was wearing flip flops and a plain white t-shirt. Half the grass at the venue was cut while the other half was long. Sitting on the curb and sharing headphones. A spider crawled on Brendon’s arm. A stray cat wandered at the edge of the parking lot.

Spencer was wearing pink. Spencer had said, “I could get my lip pierced.” Brendon laughed. Jon laughed, too. Spencer smiled. “Just kidding,” Spencer said. “I told Crystal that I would. She believes me.” Jon asked Brendon if he was gay. Brendon was surprised. He said no. Spencer frowned. Spencer was chewing gum. Brendon was eating skittles.

Having sex with Spencer (for the first time): red bull, a brand new pair of jeans, his pink hoodie. Hotel night. Free muffins in the lobby. Spencer kissed him first, right inside the hotel room door. Brendon kissed back. Spencer asked, nicely, tongue in Brendon’s mouth. Brendon couldn’t say no. Trial-size lube. One of the bedside lamps didn’t work. Brendon dropped his glasses on the floor.

Spencer smelled like cherries. He smelled like vanilla. Like axe. The mixture was nice. Spencer clenched his teeth into Brendon’s shoulder. There wasn’t blood, but there was a bruise. Brendon couldn’t keep his hands off of it for the week that it marked his skin.

Buying his condo: carpet under bare feet, seventy-five degree weather, brand new Gucci sunglasses, Spencer in the passenger seat as moral support. Streaks from windex on the windows, the smell of pine and orange, a fly buzzing around the front door. Spencer smiling. Hands on his hips. The realtor’s pinkpinkpink lipstick. Baby pink caked on too thick.

He singed the papers with a blue-ink pen. Laughed hysterically for a full ten minutes until he couldn’t breathe. Spencer’s hand on the back of his neck, soothing, fingers sliding, thumb pressing against Brendon’s pulse point. Spencer’s new cologne.

Getting his tattoo: the oddest kind of pain, butterflies in his stomach, Ryan laughing in the meanest way. Spencer was in Chicago with Jon. Brendon clutched his cell phone in his free hand and imagined holding someone’s hand. Scissors on the art desk. An out-of-place grandfather clock in the waiting area. Two teenage girls going into the back for piercings.

The half-empty snack machine. Beer in a mini-fridge in the corner. A picture of a dog on the desk. Black gloves.

Writing his first song with Spencer: mechanical pencils with little elephants on them, barking dogs in the back yard, Shane’s camera set up on a tripod in the corner, recording the process. Chinese take-out. Six extra pairs of chop sticks. A blown light bulb, leaving the room feeling too dark and too empty. Loose-leaf paper instead of a notebook. Two twelve-packs of coke.

Brendon laughed until he cried. Ripping a page in the dictionary. Playing with a ukulele. Singing Bohemian Rhapsody.

Moving in with Spencer: the long car ride with a backseat full of dogs, banana icees, spicy Doritos, Bob Dylan in the CD player. Passing a car with a Beatles bumper sticker. Sleeping on the living room floor for the first three nights. Waking up hard, spooning against Spencer’s back. Kissing. Morning breath. Not caring.

Surfing for a week straight. Watermelon. Barbeque for dinner. Sleeping until noon on the weekend.

Losing Jon and Ryan: fear. Pain like dying. Freedom. Happiness. Sushi. Blue Moon on draft. Coldplay on the radio. Spending six hours in the mall on a Wednesday. Playing phone-tag with his sister. Tossing a tennis ball for Bogart. Interviews. Exclamation points. Radio calls. Magazines. The inside of his eyelids. Red-blue-purple veins. Suffocating.

Realizing this is where he wants (needs) to be: Spencer.

Falling in love: Brendon remembers everything.