I don't hear from Ryan all Sunday. Hence, me sitting in my room, curled deep in my blankets, phone in hand, pouting.

My mom comes in every couple of hours, trying to force me to get up out of my bed, maybe eat a little. I, of course, always reject.

My life is over, how can I possibly eat? How does she not understand my misery?

However, I finally give into my mom's prodding (okay, and maybe I just can't stand the sound of my growling stomach anymore) after like, three hours and have half a grilled cheese sandwich along with a few grapes.

Once my mom and dad are in bed, I'm still laying in my bed with my phone in my hand. I'm pretty sure I haven't put it down for a second, and I really wouldn't be too surprised if there's a permanent indent of my phone in my hand.

Ryan doesn't end up calling I hope, no scratch that, beg, plead, pray. I finally begin to doze off at like, I don't know, let's say in two morning. However, this time I don't wake up from my Super Mario Brother's ring tone, or even anything at all.

In the morning, I wake up to my phone still clutched tight in my hand.

- - -

People literally stop and stare at me when I walk down the hall on Monday morning.

It is weird, and creepy, and unusual, because I've always been a no one (well, except for the one week in grade nine when everyone first found out I was a homosexual, but they soon got over that, like everything else, of course). I mean, now (or well, before today, apparently) it has always been, Oh, Brendon Urie, the gay one. End of subject.

But, no, not anymore, because now they all think I'm fucking the pastors son. And for once, they are right. Well, not fully, but almost, kind of, I guess. Well, whatever, I'm sure you get the picture.

The warning bell for first class rings, and I think I might cry, because I haven't seen Ryan yet. I mean, I even came early so I could find him. I woke up early, which just isn't an easy task for me like, ever.

So, I have no choice but to go to class. Reluctant, I slump down in my seat, and pout the whole time. I have never been this miserable in my life, I swear it. It doesn't help that people stare at me in class too, I mean, some of them literally turn all the way around to look at me. They just sit there and whisper, and look. I even hear my name whispered a few times.

Fuck, teenagers are so stupid. I am here, you know. I am a human being, I do have ears, I can hear.

I'm so tempted to get up on top of my desk and yell, yes, I am dating the Pastor's son! Yes, the formally known saint! And yes, I have done some fairly sinful things with him. And, yes, he is a flaming homosexual. However, I keep myself restrained, because I have a feeling Ryan wouldn't appreciate it all that much.

I decide to stick to my pouting, and my I-hate-the-world stance. I hope the little conformists are scared. Oh god, when did I become so emo?

I don't run into Ryan on my way to second class either. I am worried, because we almost always run into each other at this point. What if his dad really did send him to one of those creepy anti-gay things? Or, worse yet, what if he killed him? It's possible, I have heard stories before, you know, where the father just couldn't accept that their son was gay so they took the kitchen knife and -

"Brendon!" a voice screams, then I'm being grabbed, and bam, right into a locker. I don't think I remember how to breathe.

However, it only takes me a few seconds to get over it, because, it's Ryan who's standing like, right there in front of me, clutching onto my arms. "Ryan!" I squeal out loud (at least, as loud as a person who just got the wind knocked out of them only seconds ago) because, oh my god, he is alive!

My eyes immediately move to his lips, and I like, really, really want to kiss him right now, but I don't, because I'm still not exactly sure where we exactly stand now, with the whole people knowing and stuff.

He doesn't kiss me, he doesn't even hug me, but he does keep his arms on mine as he says, "Hey..." slow, and almost nervous sounding. Then, I guess he notices the people staring as they pass, because he quickly takes his hands off my arms and shoves them deep into his pants pockets.

So apparently, our relationship is back in the exact same place as it was before, I think it might have even taken a few steps back. How silly of me for possibly thinking different.

"How're you?" I ask, and I really don't even try to conceal my disappointment.

Of course, it's Ryan, so he doesn't appear to catch on anyways. "Okay," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders up and down as he stares down at the floor. He takes a quick look around the hall to make sure no ones in ear shot before leaning forward and whispering, "You didn't... like, tell anyone did you? Like, about us?"

"No, I didn't know if - "

"Okay, good," he says, taking a deep, relieved breath.

I frown. "But, I thought that - " the bell rings, but neither of us move. We're the only ones left in the hall besides Mitchell Ransom, who I don't think has ever made it to class on time since like, elementary, "that now that our parents know, and everyone here practically knows..."

"No one here knows, Brendon," Ryan points out, almost angry. "They're just assumptions."

"Yeah, assumptions that are right."

Ryan bites his lip, and takes another look around the hall. "They don't need to know that," he hisses under his breath, and its definitely a demand.

I cover my face with my hands, and muffle a tiny scream into them. Because, fan-fucking-tastic, it's back to the same old fucking problems that I thought we had gotten over ages ago. "Yeah, well, what if I want them to know?"

"Well, I don't, okay?" he snaps, voice lowered, teeth clenched. He looks a little scary like that, not going to lie. "Look, you just don't get it, do you? My dad will kick me out of my house if I tell anyone about us. He even told me he'd kick me out of the house if I broke up with Dayna."

"If he does, you could live with me?" I suggest.

He shakes his head, and looks back down the hall, away from me. He doesn't look so angry anymore, now he's back to looking sad, unsure and a little nervous. "Brendon..." He sighs, and says nothing else.

I rest my hand on his shoulder, and look up at him. He bites his lip once more, and then finally turns to me, looking me straight in the eye. He looks lost and scared, and I kind of just want to grab his hand and show him what to do.

Heck, I don't even know what to do myself.

Ryan looks away a few seconds after, and manages to shrug my hand like he's trying to make it not look too obvious, but it still totally is. It hurts. "Look, let's just talk about this later," he says softly, and he's back to staring at the floor, avoiding my eyes. "We're already late enough as it is, and the school hallway probably isn't the best place to be having this conversation. I don't even know why we started it in the first place."

"Ry..." I start, but it's too late, he's already heading off down the hallway, away from me.

He turns around briefly, long enough to say, "I'll see you later, okay? We'll talk soon, I promise. I'll try my hardest to call tonight." Then, he disappears around the corner before I have a chance to reply.

He doesn't show up at lunch, but I'm not really surprised because it's not like I expected him to anyway.

As I poke at my grape jell-o, bitter and sad, I realize that this could very well be the end of my relationship with Ryan, before it really even began.

- - -

Ryan doesn't call me that night. Again, I'm not surprised.

Ethan does though. For that, I am surprised. Way, way surprised.

"Dude," is the first thing he says when I pick up the phone. Typical Ethan, I think, and oh, how I miss him, "you said we'd be friends after we broke up. So, why haven't I heard of you since then?"

"Um, sorry?" Oh god, why am I blushing so hard?

"Better be."

"Hey, you could have called me too," I point out, defensive.

"Yeah, well I am now," he says. "I bet if I wouldn't have, I would've never heard from you again."

"Not true... I would have called." Okay, and I so totally wouldn't have, unless Ryan and I broke up and I was like, desperate for a fuck or something. But just maybe. There's a reason for that though (the not calling him thing), because even though I was the one to suggest us being friends when we first broke up, I know it wouldn't have worked out. Me being friends with Ethan? I don't think so. Especially now that I know I'm capable of cheating, I really don't want to take my chances.

"Yeah, whatever," he says. "Anyways, bud, what are you doing tonight?"

"Uh..." My conscious is totally yelling at me here, loud and clear. Lie, Lie! It screams, Tell him you're busy tonight, and like, for the rest of your life. "Nothing."

I fail.

"Cool," he says, and no, no it's not. "So how about I pick you up in like, an hour and we'll hang out for a bit." It's a statement, not a question, but, let's be honest here, it's not like I'd have the willpower to say no, anyway. I mean, it is Ethan after all.

"Uh, yeah, okay," I mumble out, face red and burning.

Fuck, I am so screwed.