Yes, you read it right, here is all the random snippets of fic I wrote and will probably never finish unless I develop the desire to and/or enough of you want me to. Okay. Here is all the unbeta-ed goodness.
I don't really know why I wrote this but I thought it would be funny if Ryan had sex with loads of girls in the cinema and Brendon got all jealous ha yeah.
Brendon loves his job. Sure, sometimes it sucks having to attack the popcorn stuck to the tacky red carpets by dried, fatty butter with a broom as a chisel and sure, sometimes repetitive ripping of tiny white slices of paper can be ridiculously boring and monotonous but Brendon doesn’t mind.
There’s one thing that makes everyday at ‘Cineplex’ a joyful day.
The Candy Counter, you see, is his favourite place in the world. If he were a customer, than the ridiculously extortionate prices may put him off but he’s not. He’s an employee. And in Brendon’s mind, that equates to an employee discount of, oh, say, about 100%.
So right now, Brendon is perched on the edge of the trademark glass counter filled with layers upon mountains upon universes of sweet, sugary goodness during his shift at the candy counter and is chewing on a long, strawberry lace.
They’re his favourites because everybody knows that there is no fruit actually in them but rather just another pile of sugar to make them taste like strawberry, which they don’t anyway. They’re also long and so last forever meaning his trips to the back storeroom are limited leaving more time for eating.
Ad here’s the best part: Brendon never gets reprimanded for it because his shift buddy (as Patrick insisted they name each other, weirdo) is Spencer and Brendon knows that Spencer loves him and so would never tell on him even when he depletes half the stock in under an hour which hardly ever happens anyway.
Anyway, Brendon is following through on his daily routine. It’s 8:17pm and the cinema is between the buzz of after-dinner-movie-trippers and creatures-of-the-night so it’s almost empty. The few remaining stragglers who are eagerly awaiting the start of their movie are still too stuffed from their expensive restaurant outing to even consider approaching one hyper Brendon Urie and/or one half dead Spencer Smith.
It’s about this time when Spencer’s eyelids begin to droop that little bit further and he’s stopped making sarcastic comments or any comments at all that Brendon will hop off the counter while the lobby is abandoned and skip upstairs to the small coffee-by-day-bar-by-night place on the second floor.
Jon sees him bouncing up the steps and instantly begins throwing together Spencer’s regular double espresso and a caramel hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and sprinkles and a flake for Brendon; the little ball of energy doesn’t need any more buzz, thanks.
Jon is Brendon’s other favourite person, except Spencer, and maybe Madonna. Jon has worked at the coffee place for almost 4 months now and ever since he arrived Brendon has been attached to him. Brent, the old coffee guy, never gave him extra whipped cream or sprinkles or a flake or any employee discount despite how much Brendon insisted it was company policy. It is hard to convince a guy of company policy when he’s worked there longer than you have. Jon, on the other hand, was easy to persuade.
‘Hey Jon!’ Brendon chants as he hops up to the smooth wood counter and settles on the edge, feet dangling in the air.
‘The usual Bren?’ Jon asks with an easy smile while he works one of the machines despite the fact that he already knows the answer.
Jon chuckles and finishes the drinks before setting them down before Brendon and leaning against the edge, waiting for Brendon to start his inevitable chatter.
‘So how’s the coffee doing Jonny? I heard Patrick wants to introduce some new flavours and stuff! Do you have any ideas? I was thinking some kind of marshmallow coffee! It could have little marshmallows in it and whipped cream and maybe some sprinkles, oh, and vanilla! There would be vanilla!’
‘I’m not sure marshmallows and coffee really mix…’
‘What do you mean? Of course they do! I always have marshmallows in my coffee!’ Brendon retorts with a pout. He likes his idea. It’s revolutionary.
‘You have marshmallows in everything.’ Jon doesn’t have the heart to tell him that whenever Brendon asks him for coffee he switches it out for hot chocolate and throws some marshmallows in there to disguise the taste. He knows Brendon doesn’t have coffee at home because he can’t afford a machine and doesn’t trust the instant stuff because it tastes ‘nowhere near as nice as yours, Jonny boy’. Brendon doesn’t need caffeine. He needs sleeping pills.
‘Are you suggesting there is a problem with marshmallows? Because you would definitely loose about 37 cool points Jon. 37.’
‘What? No way. Marshmallows are awesome. But you know what’s more awesome? Getting off my counter so I can serve customers.’ Jon replies, motioning to the lost looking people wandering around aimlessly.
‘Right. Yeah. Later Jon!’ Brendon calls, hopping down and skipping back downstairs with the drinks. They’re not technically to bring hot drinks to the counters so he takes care to keep watch for Patrick but his efforts are unneeded and he is soon nearing his favourite place in the world.
His steps slow as he realises that Spencer is currently occupied by the first of a few night dwellers that have ambled in while he was on the coffee run. Brendon can only see the guy back but he’s pretty tall and skinny and his hair is a beautiful dark brown, like Spencer’s but different. He has his arm wrapped tightly around the waist of a small blonde haired girl who is leaning delicately into his side.
Brendon rounds the counter and places the coffee down carefully by Spencer’s mostly limp hand. Spencer wouldn’t have lasted much longer without his wake up call, and the shift doesn’t end until 11pm.
He sighs and takes a sip of his own yummy hot chocolate and glances away from Spencer’s tired expression to the boy. He’s dressed in incredibly tight jean and a skin-tight grey knit jumper like the ones his Grandma used to knit him except they were always 10 sizes too big and sometimes she forgot to put in a hole for his head.
He is skinny. But like, extra skinny. Probably the skinniest person Brendon’s ever seen and he’s pretty thin himself. He always works off the extra sugar he consumes by constantly bouncing much to Spencer’s annoyance.
The guy’s hair looks like it’s been straightened but it slowly starting to curl back in on itself. It reminds Brendon of how his own hair used to be before he decided to just let the stuff grow out and use his hand to forcibly shove it off his forehead. He considered getting a headband but when he consulted Spencer the only reply he got was a fit of hysterics and an overly hard pat on the back.
But this guy’s hair looks good. And so does the pale skin it surrounds. He looks young and fragile in a way that makes Brendon just want to hug him until he snaps which probably wouldn’t take too long by the looks of him.
His pale pink lips are pulled up slightly at one side in a lopsided smile while he watches Spencer fill a popcorn bucket. And then his eyes. Whoa. His eyes. They’re golden and they’re beautiful. Brendon feels his own dark ones widen slightly in reaction.
Then the guy glances over to him and it’s too late for Brendon to pretend like he wasn’t staring so he just sends a small, startled smile his way and averts his eyes, taking another sip off his drink. He sees the humoured smirk the guy gives him from the corner of his eye before Spencer hands over the popcorn and wishes them a good night and then the guy is gone, the girl in tow.
Spencer stifles a yawn and reaches for the coffee, mumbling thanks while Brendon watches the retreating figure. Uh. Wow.
I Will Think Of A Title At Some Point Maybe
Basically Ryan becomes Brendon's english teacher, fun times ahead except I didn't write much of this. In fact, Ryan never even made an appearance.
Brendon doesn’t entirely blame Mrs Mallory, his English teacher for the year, for breaking her leg but really she should be more careful. Stairs are a serious hazard and caution must always be taken when using them. He’s thinking about starting up some kind of petition to have all the stairs in school replaced with ramps because those are far safer (and also more skateboard friendly).
Truth is, if it was any other teacher (except maybe Mr Shaw because he’s the only music teacher the school has and therefor is the only member of staff qualified to teach Brendon’s favourite class) Brendon would not give a crap. But this is Mrs Mallory, the only English teacher who has ever bothered to even try to help Brendon instead of just writing him off and she doesn’t give him detention if he misses a deadline by a day or two because she understands.
Maybe she is sort of a pushover but that’s great in Brendon’s opinion. And Jon agrees. Because Jon, well, Brendon doubts Jon has ever actually attended their English class but he hasn’t been punished as of yet.
The point is that she’s gone for the next few months, leaving Brendon with another prick of a teacher who will probably give him detention for the entirety of Mallory’s time off.
‘Dude, you’re fucked.’ Jon chuckles over the phone as it perches between Brendon’s shoulder and cheek. He’s typing furiously on his laptop trying to get this fucking assignment finished by tomorrow because he has to obey actual deadlines now. Before, he would have left it for another week or so before even looking at it.
‘I know Jon. You could at least try to be comforting, ass.’ Brendon growls as his finger fly over the guys, typing out some bullshit about, well, Brendon doesn’t even remember.
‘False hope will be every man’s downfall B, just being realistic.’
‘No you’re being a dick so shut up and let me finish this essay, okay? Okay.’ Brendon hangs up and sighs, glaring at his laptop.
If I were to carry any on, it would be this one. It's really just a relationship going through the basic first boyfriend, tells parents you're gay kind of stuff.
It’s dark and loud and smoky and Brendon thinks fuck yeah because this is his kind of place right here. He doesn’t get to attend parties much, so this right here is a rarity, and this particular party is step up to say the least. It’s a college party. Well almost. It’s a guy who’s soon to graduate’s party thrown by a college guy. So it totally counts.
As soon as Brendon and Brent walk through the door and the music hits their ears, Brendon’s grin widens because he knows his overly religious parents would throw a fit if they knew he was here and not sleeping at Brent’s as he had told them. But whatever. He’s 17, it’s his life, his choices.
They stride into the already densely populated living room and glance around. Brent eyes zone in on the corner of the room and he says, ‘Hey, Bren, I’m gonna be…’ and then disappears amongst the mass of people.
Brendon stands and watches him go for a moment, not sure on college party procedure, as it’s the first he’s been to. He thinks a good place to start is with a drink so he makes his way over to the dimly lit kitchen.
The floor is classic black and white check linoleum and the walls are decorated with brightly coloured tiles. If he didn’t know already he’d totally be able to tell it was William’s house straight away just from this one room. It was too crowded in the lounge to be able to see much of the decoration.
Brendon wanders over to the counter and scans over the assortment of bottles before picking up a cup and pouring a few randomly selected liquids into it. He takes a gulp and, yeah, it tastes alright. Then he downs the lot with a grin because, yeah, his parents would totally kill him for this and that is possibly the best thought in the world.
He feels slightly lightheaded and realises he’s kind of a lightweight and then he smiles even wider because at least he can classify himself now. It’s not the first time he’s had alcohol, maybe the third, but it’s the first time it’s been so freely available. He and Jon had shared a bottle of Jon’s dad’s vodka before but that just made him feel queasy.
He quickly mixes up another drink, eyes scanning the many faces around him, and downs it, feeling a pleasant hum running through his bones. He drops the red cup into a nearby trash can and heads back out into the living room.
More people seem to have arrived in the short time he was distracted. Brendon glances around, seeking a familiar face and finally finding one.
‘Pete Wentz, you fucker!’ He crows, leaping onto the man in question’s back in pure delight at not only finding somebody he knows but also somebody roughly his own height. He was starting to feel sort of short.
‘Bden!’ Pete yells back and spins around a few times before Brendon drops from his back and encloses him in a hug! ‘How did you get into this shindig young one?’
Brendon laughs and thinks back to the first time he met Pete. He’d been at Gabe’s house and Pete had arrived declaring he was ‘the piano tuner guy so let me in and show me your wares’ with a wink and Brendon knew he sort of loved the guy straight away.
‘I’m exchanging bible stories at Brent’s if anyone asks,’ he replies and Pete laughs easily.
‘So you congratulated Beckett on his freedom yet?’ Pete asks.
‘No, he’s probably off in some dark corner with Gabe though right?’ Brendon giggles and then halts because when you’ve witnessed it up close (involuntarily) it’s pretty gross and not something to joke about.
‘Nah I’ve seen Gabe around. Oh hey, this is Patrick.’ He says, gesturing to the even smaller guy beside him with tufts of soft red hair sticking out from under a trucker hat. ‘He’s like, a gift from God I swear down dude…’
As Pete rambles he exchanges short introductions and a fond eye roll with Patrick. The song changes to a vaguely familiar upbeat hit and suddenly Pete is latching onto Brendon’s arm and shaking him with vigour. ‘Bren, Bren, Bren, oh my god, come dance!’ He almost screams.
‘I’m pretty sure Patrick could better handle your energy than me.’ Brendon replies, carefully trying to shrug Pete’s grip off.
‘Oh no, he doesn’t dance Bren. Come on!’ He pleads not relenting his grip and after a quick glance at Patrick Brendon agrees.
He thinks that Pete is kind of a crazy dancer but goes along with all the wild moves anyway and pretty soon the whole room is swinging with them as they laugh and Brendon falls over a couple of times but Pete just works it into the routine by picking him up and spinning him around a few times.
After a while Brendon is sort of dripping sweat and he realises he hasn’t seen Brent in a couple hours. He fights his way through the crowd ignoring the disappointed calls but Pete’s still going so they’ll forget he was ever even there in a minute.
His throats kind of dry and he feels like another one of those whatever the hell he made so he heads back into the kitchen. He thinks he sees Brent from the corner of his eye and turns to search further but his feet don’t get the order to stop and soon enough he walks straight into something. Or someone.
‘Dude, I’m sorry…’ Brendon says steadying himself with a hand braced on the wall.
‘It’s cool.’ Says the person, a guy apparently if the deep voice is anything to go by, and Brendon glances up (they’re pretty tall) and pauses sort of unsure for a minute because he’s pretty. Like, girl pretty sort of. But then he has stubble and his features are manly but in a feminine way and his eyes are a gorgeous soft brown colour. His straightened, dark hair is brushed back from his face but a few escaped strands lie across his forehead.
The guy’s mouth tilts up at one side in a slightly lopsided smile. ‘I’m, um, I’m Brendon.’ He says and sticks his spare hand out before realising it’s his left and quickly switching for his right.
‘Ryan.’ The guy replies and Brendon feels something warm and woolly grab his hand. He looks down and realises that Ryan is wearing fingerless gloves and that’s sort of weird but also pretty hot.
And then he smiles even wider because not only is a really hot guy talking to him but his parents would freak out if they even knew he thought other guys were hot.
He’s been openly gay for a while now. He’s just not so open with his parents.
‘So you’re a pretty good dancer…’ Ryan says with a lazy smirk and Brendon’s slowly turning red and is about to stutter out a reply when a arm is swung over his shoulder and a face is pressed into his hair.
‘Brenny!’ A cheerfully drunk voice cheers and, oh, it’s Gabe. ‘I see you’ve already met Ryry.’
‘Yeah.’ Brendon says trying to slip away from Gabe as Ryan just smirks further.
‘Hey so have you seen Bilvy yet and given him a congratulations kiss. Because I did. With like, tongues and everything.’
‘That’s because you’re his boyfriend.’ Brendon points out, ‘and you’d, like, castrate me if I tried that.’
‘That’s true, bro. You speak the truth. The cobra likes you.’ Gabe laughs and then slips away back into the crowd.
‘He’s fucked.’ Ryan says with a chuckle before directing his eyes back to Brendon who nods and smiles.
‘So how do you know him?’ Brendon asks and Ryan shrugs.
‘Me and William used to date.’
‘Oh.’ Brendon says and deflates a little because William is tall and lean and pretty and Brendon’s, well, not.
‘But I’m more into the small, dark and hyper kind now.’ Ryan says and gives Brendon another lopsided smile but this time there’s something else behind it.
Brendon thinks that maybe Ryan is flirting with him but he’s never been too good at picking up on these things and he usually has his friends point it out to him but he’s alone in this situation so he doesn’t do much but blush further and laugh nervously, scratching the back of his head.
‘It’s kind of crowded in here, you wanna go outside?’ Ryan asks and Brendon almost squeals. Not trusting himself to talk, he just nods instead and follows Ryan outside.
- - -
‘Creative writing.’ Brendon says again disbelievingly and Ryan huffs out another puff of smoke.
‘What?’ Ryan says in an amused voice, tilting his head slightly towards Brendon as he watches his face.
‘So are you a slacker in other stuff too, not just your education?’ Brendon laughs and then ducks away just before Ryan slaps him in the shoulder.
‘Shut up. It’s a perfectly respectable major and if I maybe don’t have to study as much as 99% of the rest of the college population then that’s just a plus.’ Ryan replies with a grin and Brendon finds himself smiling back. ‘So what about you?’
‘What about me?’ Brendon flings a rock across the grass and watches it skid into the small pond at the bottom of the garden.
Ryan takes another drag of the cigarette hanging between his fingers. Brendon should really stop looking at his fingers. It’s sort of creepy. But god, they’re long and perfect. Ah.
‘You’ve got a year left yeah?’
‘And after that?’
Brendon pauses. Of course he knows what he wants to do. It’s what he’s always wanted to do. ‘Music.’ He says, ‘But, um.’ His parents. He’s too scared to tell them what he wants. Too scared to tell them anything really.
But he knows they have his future planned out. A respectable college course for a few years, a mission somewhere he’ll either rend up freezing to death or getting shot and then settling down with a good, little Mormon girl and providing grand children galore. Except he doesn’t want to go on a mission. He doesn’t want to settle down. Especially not with a girl. And along with that comes the whole no grandkids issue. He’s also pretty sure music is not included in the ‘respectable college course’ category.
‘Um?’ Ryan asks with a raised eyebrow and Brendon just takes a moment to look at him because he’s sat outside with this guy for about an hour now and at first Brendon thought Ryan just wanted in his pants but they’ve only been talking and laughing and Ryan’s a nice guy and yeah.
‘Parents.’ Brendon says with a slightly sad smile and looks up at the sky.
‘Parents.’ Ryan repeats quietly with a small nod, eyes flickering over Brendon as he tips his head upwards. Brendon feels something warm cover his hand and when he looks over Ryan is smiling this prefect little smile that is comforting and warm and understanding and everything Brendon really needs right now.
Before he knows what he’s doing he’s stretched across the small space separating them and has wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist, burrowing into his chest. Brendon freezes and expects Ryan to jump back or pull away or anything but instead he just feels a pair of warm arms wrap securely around him.
He smiles into Ryan’s shirt as he feels warm breath hit his neck. ‘Parents.’ Ryan says once more and maybe this time it’s a little sad. ‘Fuck ‘em.’ And he squeezes Brendon tighter.
- - -
The party is slowly dying down inside but Brendon and Ryan remain outside, sat perched on the edge of the patio with Ryan’s arm curled comfortingly around Brendon’s shoulder as he curls into his side. Ryan’s on about his fourth cigarette and Brendon would tell him that it’s bad for him but the truth is that he likes the way his lips look as they blow out the smoke slowly and languidly.
They hear the slide of the glass door behind them and both turn towards the interruption causing Ryan’s arm to drop from Brendon’s shoulders.
‘Ry I’m heading out so, unless you wanna walk home, you are too.’ The guy says stepping out into the light of the overheard lamps allowing Brendon to see the clean shaven but still slightly wild beard dressing the chin of a quite round face. Crystal blue eyes flicker from Ryan to Brendon and then back again.
‘Right yeah, Spence.’ Ryan replies and lifts an eyebrow in a way that seems to mean something to ‘Spence’ as he then turns around and stalks back inside.
‘I’ll be in the car.’ He calls over his shoulder as Ryan stands and offers a hand to Brendon, which he takes.
‘My best friend, Spencer.’ Ryan says as he turns towards Brendon who is cautiously dusting the dirt from his jeans. ‘So, it was um, awesome to meet you, Brendon.’ He adds with a smile.
‘Yeah. Same to you.’ Brendon replies with the most genuine grin he can manage but there’s a weird tugging feeling in his gut that seems to object to Ryan leaving. ‘So, um…’
‘Could I maybe have you number?’ Ryan cuts in, ‘so we can like, hang out. Because. Yeah. This was. Fun.’ He looks sort of anxious and that just makes the weird feeling grow stronger.
‘Yeah. Sure. Of course.’ Brendon rushes with another smile, which Ryan returns before pulling out a pen from his back pocket and holding his arm out for Brendon.
He quickly scribbles his number down, careful not to press to hard and can’t help but trace his fingertips over the soft skin when he’s done. He hands the pen back to Ryan who smiles softly at him, causing Brendon to blush.
‘Bye Brendon.’ Ryan says and then he’s gone, back inside and disappearing amongst the remaining bodies.
‘Bye.’ Brendon murmurs to himself and turns back to look at the sky. The small flashes of white contrast against the stark black and it’s kind of beautiful to Brendon in a way he never noticed before.
‘Hey Bren, you ready to go?’ Calls Brent’s voice from behind him.
He takes one last moment to watch the moon, full and bright and white and eager before he turns to his friend and says, ‘yeah.’ Says ‘sure.’
- - -
The First Nine Days Of My Life
I don't really know what this is.
We had moved house. That was enough to fuel my anger. It hadn’t been a big move. I still attended the same school and I was still a suitable distance from the few friends I had but it was different. That was enough.
I didn’t want change. I was happy with my life. In that house I was secure and I had routine and I knew. I just knew everything. I knew that everything was okay and everything was going to be okay because it was the same but then it was different.
Different house. Different parents. They weren’t actually different parents. They were still the same people but they were different. They treated me like a different person. As though I had changed and not the house. Not them.
They were wrong.
They didn’t give me time to adapt. The day after we had moved I was shoved out of the house with my school bag but no ‘Have a nice day, son!’ or ‘Goodbye Brendon’ or anything. I hadn’t even unpacked yet.
The route to school was different. Before it had been a 5-minute stroll but then it was a 20-minute hike along busy roads instead of calm country paths.
This one was particularly different. The road beside me was relatively empty with only the occasional car. It reminded me of before. I liked this road. The pavement was barely wide enough for 2 people and a shallow wall ran alongside it, separating it from the car park to many different small shops; a village store, a William Hill, an Off License, a Gas Station, a Hair Salon.
But then there was a boy. You was perched precariously atop the wall, skinny jean covered legs crossed as you swayed in the breeze. Strands of slightly curled, brown hair danced in the wind as your young face focused intently on the road. Your honeycomb eyes locked onto every passing vehicle. Your long, spindly arms appearing from the sleeves of a purple V-neck led to hands with fingers longer than any I’ve ever seen. One set of 5 clutched a simple black biro almost violently.
On the floor underneath you sat a brown leather shoulder bag. On your lap sat a tattered notebook, pages frayed and ink stained. With every vehicle your beautiful hands would scrawl something on the page, bright eyes never leaving the road. But your face was blank.Your body language was blank.
So I kept on walking.
- - -
‘Hey Bren?’ Jon had said, leaning over the isle in English to whisper at me.
‘Yeah?’ I asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘How was the move?’
‘And the parents?’
Jon nodded and returned to idly staring at the clock.
A few boxes were unpacked. My instruments mainly. They were now spotted randomly around the room I was staying in. It wasn’t my bedroom. My bedroom was back home. The neighbours had come around to give us some cookies as a ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’. My mom dumped them in the trash and said ‘Brendon can’t have sugar.’
The road was slightly busier. I walked at a slower pace. I had no real reason to go to school. I was failing most subjects anyway. I wasn’t going to do anything with my life. I had my music. That was enough. And my parents? Like they cared. They could go to hell.
You were there again. Sat in the same position but this time a grey jacket covered your lanky form. I watched your long fingers scrape your hair out of his face. I watched your eyes follow each car. I watched as I walked.
You dropped your pen. It was the same simple, black biro. Ink spilled out onto the pavement beneath you. I picked it up and handed it to you, looking directly into your honeycomb eyes and you stared back.
‘Thanks.’ You said, taking the pen back, ink dripping between your fingers, face as emotionless as always.
‘No problem.’ I replied with an expression just as blank. And I walked on, wiping the ink off onto my jeans.
- - -
‘Hey Bren?’ Jon said, leaning over to me while chewing on his gum.
‘Yeah?’ I asked turning to look at him.
‘How are the parents?’
‘How’s the house?’
Jon nodded and leant back in his chair, still chewing.
I’d emptied a few more boxes of possessions into the room. I was actually looking for something. My parents yelled at me when they found all the stuff thrown over the floor and I told them I was sorry and I would clean it up.
They yelled at me for the ink stains on my jeans and I told them I was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again.
They yelled at me again in the morning and shoved me out of the door, my school bag arriving after me, newly stocked with black biros.
I walked down the same road, by the same wall and I saw the same boy using the same leaking pen on the same ink-splattered notebook.
This time I didn’t walk by but I stopped beside you. You lifted your eyes from the road to my face and stared at me, face blank as always.
I shoved one hand into my backpack and drew out a pen. I held it out to you and you looked at it. You wrapped your fingers around it and took it from me.
‘Thanks.’ You said, eyes focusing on the road once again.
‘No problem.’ I said but I didn’t walk away.
After a few moments I sat down next to you and stared at the road with you.
‘I’m Ryan.’ You said.
‘Brendon.’ I replied.
‘Are you new to town.’ Your tone was indifferent and made it sound more like a statement than a question.
‘No. I moved house. From a few streets down.’
‘Oh.’ You said. ‘Do you like it there.’
‘No.’ I replied and you turned to look at me, a spark of emotion in your eyes. Confusion. ‘It’s different.’
‘Maybe you’re just different.’ You said, turning back to the road.
‘Maybe.’ I replied and then I stood up and walked away.
You didn’t watch me leave.
- - -
‘Hey Bren?’ Jon.
‘Yeah?’ I replied, still focused on the window.
‘How’s the house?’
‘How are you?’
‘You seem happier.’ I glanced at Jon. He doesn’t normally pry.
‘I met somebody.’
‘Cool.’ Jon answered and turned back to the front.
Most of the boxes were unpacked. The wardrobe was still mostly empty as my belongings were covering the floor. My parents yelled some more. I yelled back. They told me I’d changed. I asked them what hadn’t.
I left early for school to avoid their judgmental gaze.
You were there on the wall as usual. I didn’t hesitate before dropping my bag beside you and sitting beside you, bringing my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
‘Bad morning.’ You asked without glancing my way.
‘Don’t you have to be at school?’ I replied with as neutral a tone as I could muster but still some anger seeped through.
‘I don’t have to be anywhere.’ Your voice was distant, almost dreamy.
‘What do you write in the notebook?’ I enquired but your face stayed neutral.
‘What constitutes change.’ You avoided my question and replaced it with your own.
I turned towards you with a questioning expression.
‘For you. What is change.’ You asked almost sincerely as your hand scribbled something and your eyes trailed on a passing car.
I turned back towards the road and let my eyes skim over the blue sky. ‘When something isn’t how it should be. That’s change.’
‘But what if it’s better for being something it shouldn’t.’ You turned to me with a curious expression and I met your gaze. Our eyes locked.
‘Who’s to say it won’t be.’ I replied and your honeycomb eyes melted slightly, revealing a part of yourself I’d craved to see. There’s sadness. But knowledge. So much knowledge.
I was so lost in your honest gaze that I barely registered the gentle stroke of your hand over mine, the hot feeling of your soft skin ghosting over mine leaving an invisible trail. Your fingers graced along mine before your hand settled atop mine.
Only then did you break the eye contact and focus once again on the road. Your hand stayed in place.
‘I watch.’ You said, eyes once again blank but still bright. I raised an eyebrow, ushering for you to continue. ‘In the notebook.’ You nodded towards the book in your lap and I leaned over slightly to get a better view. You remained still, frozen, rather than moving away from the proximity.
Many marks were scratched in the pages. A tally. A count.
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Why not.’ You replied and I returned to sitting up straight.
You paused a moment, fingers absently stroking over my knuckles. ‘I watch the world. Watch it change.’
I nodded and watched with you. Watched the world change.
- - -
I missed English. I saw Jon in the hallway when I arrived.
He was talking to another boy. A slightly taller boy with long brown hair and a cheery face.
I continued down the hallway.
I posted this on tumblr already. So yeah.
Ryan Ross goes for coffee on Tuesdays and Thursdays and occasionally Saturdays. He works shifts at Pete’s, the local indie music store, Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays and takes a creative writing class at the community college Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Sunday he attends poetry appreciation. That’s just how it is.
Spencer Smith, best friend to the aforementioned, lives by similar rules except he has an actual, well paying ‘grown-up’ job at the small accounting firm and so doesn’t have time to take any classes, though he’s secretly always dreamed of taking music classes. Drumming, to be precise. So Spencer would drop in for coffee on his lunch break on Mondays, which was the only day his one work friend, Gabriel Saporta, didn’t share his shift and so didn’t take him out for lunch, and would accompany Ryan on his Thursday and sometimes Saturday coffee runs.
However, Spencer’s shifts get moved around so he has to work through the Ryan occupied Thursday gap but it leaves Tuesday open so Tuesday becomes coffee day. He feels sort of bad because it means he can no longer enjoy his idle chats with William and Nate over the counter while they make his coffee.
- - -
So the first Tuesday after the big mix up happens he agrees to meet Ryan at the Starbucks just a couple blocks away from the college at roughly 1pm. And it’s the first time Spencer has ever been to Starbucks on a Tuesday so it’s also, coincidently, the first time he meets Jon Walker.
Jon Walker works at Starbucks Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays and sometimes Sundays and takes a photography course every spare day. Jon Walker moved here from Chicago 2 years ago and every Tuesday he serves Ryan coffee and they have a debate about the credibility of that week’s newest CD release. Ryan never mentioned Jon before because he knows Spencer generally takes no interest in people other than himself, Gabe and his family.
But now Spencer is stood at the counter of Starbucks, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape while he takes in Jon Walker in all his bearded goodness. And Ryan finds it infinitely more amusing when Jon notices Spencer’s stare and blushes slightly before turning his back to go make the drinks Ryan ordered (because Spencer was so out of it).
Ryan jabs Spencer in the side with a pointy elbow, giving him time to gather his thoughts and close his mouth just before Jon returns with one vanilla latte and a double espresso. The three of them stand awkwardly for a few moments, Ryan with a smirk plastered on his face, Spencer with purposefully averted eyes and Jon with a questioning gaze before Ryan finally cracks.
‘Oh yeah. Jon, this is my best friend Spencer. Spencer, this is the guy who gives me coffee Jon.’ He says, and smirks further when Spencer meets Jon’s gaze only to avert it straight away after with a murmured ‘hey.’
‘Hi Spencer.’ Jon says with a cheery grin and Spencer’s blush deepens before he gives the barista a gracious nod and drags away pretending nothing even happened and Ryan thinks he’ll leave it alone. For now.
- - -
The second time they meet, Spencer has mentally prepared himself beforehand. He strides confidently into the establishment with his head held high and can only see Ryan’s amused expression out of the corner of his eye.
He walks right up to the counter and waits for Ryan to appear by his side while disregarding the tiny, dark haired and heavily tattooed guy bouncing around in the background.
Jon glances up with a warm smile as his eyes lock onto Spencer and he says, ‘Hi Spencer. Hi Ryan. What can I do for you?’ but his eyes don’t stray and that makes Spencer smile slightly.
He sees Ryan about to open his mouth so he jumps in hurriedly with, ‘Hey Jon. A vanilla latte and an espresso please.’ And he smiles back.
Jon seems startled for a minute making Spencer’s grin fade slightly but then he nods and busies himself with making the drinks. Spencer glances to the side and shoots Ryan a questioning glance but he just chuckles and shakes his head like he knows some private joke.
- - -
As soon as Ryan walks through the stained glass door of ‘Pete’s’, the small bell above the door ringing, a mop of red hair lifts its gaze from the comic it was immersed in and frowns shortly before a short black haired head peers around the back-office door.
‘Are you smiling Ryan?’ Pete says with a grin of his own, creeping out from behind the door.
‘What? Ryan Ross? Smiling?’ Says another head of black but slightly longer hair, bobbing up from behind a vinyl shelf.
Ryan simply breezes past all of them, into the employee lounge and stuffing his bag into his locker, removing his coat and his scarf before reappearing out front with a large box of new release CDs.
‘So?’ Pete pries, hopping up onto the counter and begin batted away by Gerard for almost sitting on his comic.
‘Spencer has a crush.’ Ryan replies simply, tearing into the cardboard box with a penknife and pulling out the first pile of discs.
‘Ohhhhh, do tell.’ Vicky says, a curious and mischievous gleam in her eye. Spencer is well known amongst the employees of Pete’s as he often stops in to remind Ryan to eat and to pay his bills and do his laundry and, well, you get it.
‘Jon, from the Starbucks down the block.’ Ryan replies, stacking the CDs systematically onto the appropriate shelves as his limbs are trained to almost automatically.
‘There’s a Starbucks down the block?’ Gerard says with a small frown. Damn. He’d been walking 3 miles to get coffee when he has a coffee place on his doorstep.
- - -
The third Tuesday Spencer is kind of tired and annoyed because it has taken him this long to figure out that with his new timetable he’s working more hours but still has the same pay which is beyond shitty. He follows Ryan into Starbuck’s with a frown on his face and stares out the window while he listens to Ryan give their order.
Ryan glances between Spencer’s aggravated face and Jon’s slightly disappointed expression. Ryan gives him what he hopes to be a reassuring smile.
‘So,’ Jon says and finally Spencer is looking at him curiously, ‘my friend’s band is playing at Corporation this Saturday and they kind of need some publicity to get their name out there you know, so, if you wanna come then, I mean, it’s not actually his band, he’s not even in the band, he’s just, like, he’s a music student so he’s filling in since the band is down a couple members, but, they’re really good so…’
‘Sure.’ Ryan says when he gets the feeling Jon is just going to continue ranting until either him or Spencer answers.
‘Yeah?’ Jon replies.
‘Yeah.’ Spencer says and Ryan nods.
‘Awesome.’ Jon says and smiles.
- - -
Pete’s always enthusiastic to try new things and when Ryan had returned from yet another Tuesday Starbucks break with a smile on his face Pete figured he might as well try this place out. But a bunch of kids crowd into the shop shortly before closing meaning he can’t close up until almost an hour later and by then it’s 7.10pm so he has to dash down the road to make it before the coffee place closes.
He finally reaches the small green building slotted in at the corner just as a dark silhouette steps out of the doorway and turns around the turn the final lock on the already shuttered Starbucks. He still steps up anyway and the guy pauses when he notices Pete in the dim light of a nearby streetlamp.
‘Uh, hi.’ He says, shooting Pete a wary glance.
‘Hi.’ Pete replies, rocking slightly on his heels.
‘We’re closed.’ The guy says, hands dropping to his sides.
‘That’s cool.’ Pete says with a smile. ‘I’m Pete!’ And he holds out his hand.
‘Patrick.’ The guys says taking his hand.
Pete continues to grin at the figure, even after Patrick drops his hand and says, ‘Well I should go.’ And takes a few wary steps back.
But then he steps under a streetlamp and he’s suddenly illuminated in bright white light like an angel and Pete’s grin widens because this boy is gorgeous and adorable like a little puppy and Pete kind of wants to lick him.
‘Nice to meet you Patrick!’ He calls after the guy when he has turned and started walking over to his car.
‘Yeah you too…’ He says before jumping into his car and speeding away, leaving Pete waving in a cloud of dust.
- - -
The first time Ryan Ross meets Brendon Urie is accidental.
He’d switched his Saturday shift for Gerard’s for Friday shift in order to go to the gig. Vicky is off prowling the hip-hop section while Pete hides in back so Ryan is forced to perch on the small stool at the counter and flick through the comic Gerard keeps behind there.
He barely noticed the small chime of the bell as a customer enters the shop until a bright, enthusiastic voice calls out, ‘Hey Gee-oh.’
Ryan glances up quickly and acknowledges the small, dark haired, wide-eyed guy with a quick jerk of the head before refocusing on the comic. ‘He’s not working.’ He says shortly.
After a few moments he realises he hasn’t heard the soft pad of footsteps entering further into the shop but neither has he heard the bell signalling the exit of the man. Ryan looks up again and is met with two large oak brown eyes, which widen slightly before disappearing behind a display cabinet.
Ryan’s brow furrows in confusion. What the fuck was that? He hears Vicky call out a cheery, ‘Hey Brendon.’ And then Pete’s head pops around the door behind him and says, ‘coffee?’ to which Ryan nods and heads out the door, Pete following close behind.
- - -
The second time Ryan Ross meets Brendon Urie is coincidental.
Ryan, Jon and Spencer are crowded around a small table at the back of Corporation, all armed with beers. The conversation flows easily as the first bands set plays on and Jon explains his friend is on next.
The stage is cleared for them and Jon goes to the bar to fetch another round of beers. The line is longer than he anticipated so the set starts before he returns.
‘Hola Corporation! How you doing?’ A tall, latino guy with what Ryan can only describe as a jewfro shouts into the microphone while 3 other guys set up behind him and a girl with short black hair plays with- holy crap, is that a keytar?
‘Hey that’s Gabe.’ Spencer says eying the guy who just spoke.
‘What?’ Ryan says, eyes flicking to Spencer and then back to the stage again.
‘Yeah. He never told me he was in a band.’ Ryan shrugs and turns his attention to the other band members. Other than the tall guy and the girl, there’s another guy with weird glasses and a guy Ryan thinks he vaguely recognises from his Creative Writing classes and another shadowy figure drifting around the drum set who Ryan can’t quite make out.
And then they kick into a fast upbeat song and Gabe’s doing a lot of head thrashing and the two guys now armed with guitars are doing some kind of weird dance ritual while the girl watches on with an amused expression and she really kind of rocks on that keytar.
But then both Ryan and Spencer watch the drummer in amused surprise because the guy is good, really good, but he’s also kind of bouncing out of his seat he’s exuding that much energy. By now Ryan has figured out that compared to the rest of the band, the guy is pretty short so that just makes the way he bobs up and down behind the high hats even more amusing.
‘Wow.’ Ryan says.
‘Is it normal to vibrate like that.’ Spencer says
‘He just jumped like 3 feet in the air I swear.’
‘Hey.’ Jon says appearing behind them and laying the beers on the table.
‘Is the drummer on steroids?’ Spencer asks seriously, not taking his eyes from the character for once.
Jon just laughs and says, ‘Yeah, no. That’s Brendon. He’s. Yeah. He’s a little ball of hyper.’ But it’s in a slightly adoring tone.
‘Huh.’ Ryan says and keeps watching.