Ship: Brendon/Patrick
Words: 848

"Hey, uh, Brendon? Is that your name?"

The boy with brown hair and black glasses looks up from where he's working on a textbook for music theory, papers scattered all over the table. Our dorm has always been a mess, we just never worked up the courage to talk to each other about it.

"Yeah," the boy blushes a little and I can't help but find it ridiculously cute. I don't even know if he's attracted to guys, "Patrick?"

I nod with a small smile, my eyes meeting his and I can't help but get lost in them. They're a brilliant brown and they're so pretty. It's not often that I feel that way about people but I think I feel that way with him.

"So uh..." I bite my lip, "I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime or something, if you have time. 'Cause uh... we don't really know each other that well and—"

"Yeah, is love to."

My eyebrows raise.

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure," he smiles, "Would now work for you? I really don't feel like finishing off my English right now."

I chuckle a little, "Yeah sure. C'mon, I know this awesome café."

Brendon leaves his pile of textbooks and homework and follows me out the door, watching as I grab my car keys and we leave campus.

We reach the café, it's a cute place, small but cozy. A couple baristas—one with a brown, curly afro and another with short, ginger hair—are working at the register while another couple of boys with emo-esqu haircuts (one has black hair, another has brown) are quickly making coffee and tea and serving up baked goods.

Brendon pulls down the sleeves of his sweater a little and I watch as he makes sweater paws before bringing one sleeve up and biting on it nervously. It's cute and I'm kind of tempted to kiss him, but it's not my place right now.

"Do you know what you want?" I ask, adjusting my own cardigan on my plain white tee.

He bites his lip and licks his lips, "Probably just a tall mocha."

"Ew." I say plainly.

"What?" Brendon chuckles softly, looking down at me in amusement.

"Coffee's gross."

"Next!" I hear the afro kid call—his name tag says Joe.

I walk forward with Brendon, hands in my jean pockets as I look up at the menu.

"I'll take a tall vanilla chai with almond milk."

The barista quickly writes down the order on the cup, "Is there a name with that?"

"Patrick." I reply.

He passes on the cup to one of the two emo kids (his name is Pete, he has the black hair) who begins to make my drink meanwhile, Brendon finished up his order and is served by the other boy, Ryan.

Once we get our drinks, we take a seat at a table closest to the window and surprisingly enough, he's the one to start the conversation.

"So, how's your first year of college for you?" The brunette asks.

I let out a long sigh, then reply, "Stressful, but it's nice for the experiences I guess."

"Same here," he replies quietly, "Less people bullying you for being... not straight."

My eyebrows raise at that, "You're gay?"

"Eh," he shrugs, "not necessarily gay and not necessarily straight. People are hot and I don't like putting a label to my sexuality."

I smile a little at that, "I'm pan. So I kinda feel the same way."

"Don't you think that gender does matter or something like that?" He asks.

"Yeah, it really shouldn't matter. As long as you love someone for who they are." I reply, "But that doesn't happen in most cases so..."

"Yeah," he says, biting his lip, "That's probably what I am but... I don't know. Labels come with assumptions such as people thinking bisexuals and pansexuals are the same thing or all gays have that gay attitude and lesbians just do it for the porn."

I nod at that, because it does make a bit of sense, and take a sip of tea.

"You're really cute, you know that?" Brendon asks.

I blush slightly and lower my eyes under my fedora, my cheeks turning red.

"No, don't do that," he says, raising my chin with two fingers and smiling down at me, "You really are. Just trust me."

I smile at him sadly. I really don't believe it, but I'll accept it for him. He's pretty damn cute, too.

I hear an alarm go off and his eyes widen as he digs his phone from his pocket.

"I gotta go, I'm so sorry but class is in like 10 minutes, I'll talk to you later?" He asks.

"Uh, sure, do you need a ride back to the campus?"

"No, it's fine," he smiles, brown eyes crinkling in kindness behind black framed glasses, "I'll catch the bus, see you soon!"

"Bye," I wave and he's left.

I sit down after a hesitant moment, watching him leave through the window.

Gender really doesn't matter. I think I like him.