The thing about Ethan is that he's like, constantly high. It's not on coke, or E, or heroin, or anything like that, only pot, and on occasion, 'shrooms. I know this for sure because Ethan always finds the need to remind me, almost every single time I see him that, "It's all about the naturals, Bren. All about the naturals."

Yes, my boyfriend is a hippy.

And, I mean, his apartment reeks of pot, all the time, and when I leave all my clothes end up reeking too, even though I've never touched the stuff in my life (okay, so, maybe once, but just once, just to try.)

I love him, I really do, but sometimes, I just want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him repeatedly while yelling, "We don't live in the 70's! You weren't even born in the 70's!"

Then again, I doubt it'd make much of a difference anyways.

Anyways, I bet your wondering how I got involved with a twenty-three year old man, so here it is: I met Ethan at some art thing my mom dragged me to because her friend got her tickets, and she had no one else to go with. When she wandered off, doing God knows what, and left me staring at some fucked up painting, not really getting what the hell it was supposed to be, when Ethan came up to me and said, "Fucking crazy amazing, isn't it?"

"Sure..." I said, before turning around, thinking it was some old, crazy art person that hadn't showered since the 60's or something. But, then I turned, looked at him, and my whole view on boring ass galleries changed at that very moment. Because, shit, if he wasn't the hottest thing I had ever laid eyes on in my whole entire life.

He talked. I drooled and blushed. My mom came back, told me we were leaving. He asked for my number. My mom gave me a weird look, but I gave it to him anyways. He called the next day and asked me if I wanted to hang out. We did. I ended up at his apartment an hour later. Then, I bent over his bed and he fucked me senseless. Then, I guess, the rest is history.

So, that brings me here now, almost a year later. It's Friday night, and I'm in that very same bed, lying on my back with Ethan beside me, his limp arm slung over my stomach. Okay, and so maybe we just had sex. And maybe, just maybe, I thought of Ryan right before I came. Okay, well, maybe it was more of me imagining him being the one fucking me instead of Ethan, than just a thought. But seriously, no. That is so wrong. So, so wrong.

---

It's about eight the next night, and I'm standing at my doorstep, key in hand, contemplating whether to go inside or not. Because, I know the second I walk through the door my parents will jump and attack me and have me for a midnight snack for being home so late.

And, okay, maybe I did call earlier, at like, noon and told them I was just at Jon's house and I'd be home in an hour or so.

And, I was all ready at the door and stuff a half an hour later after hanging up. I swear. Then, Ethan gave me a goodbye kiss (even though he was driving me home) which turned into a few goodbye kisses. With a little bit of tongue. Which lead to some heavy groping, and then we were back in his room, on his hemp sheets, fucking.

Then, Ethan smoked some pot, and let me tell you, when Ethan gets high, he gets horny, and then the whole cycle started again.

After that, he was completely burnt out from the sex, and the weed, and immediately passed out. I figured I'd let him take a short nap since I was already late, but then feeling a little drowsy myself from all the mind-blowing sex we just had, I kind of fell asleep too.

And that leaves me here, standing outside of my door, backpack slung over my shoulder, and probably smelling like sex and weed because I didn't have any time to take a shower, eight hours after I said I'd be home.

I finally decide to just get it over with, because standing out here won't help the situation in any way. To my surprise, I successfully open and close the door behind me, and I'm still in one piece. In fact, my parents are nowhere in sight.

I take a few hesitant steps forward, towards the living room, and still nothing. To be honest, I'm a little worried a murderer broke into my house and killed my parents or something.

I peek into the living room, and nope, no blood, and no dead bodies, nothing. Just Ryan Ross sitting on my couch. Wait, what?

I blink a few times, pinch hard at the skin on my arm, and yep, that's definitely Ryan Ross sitting on my couch, watching my TV like he lives here or something.

I am in the right house, right?

I clear my throat a little, and Ryan's head snaps to look at me. "Oh, hey, Brendon," he says so casually, like this is the most natural thing for him to be sitting in my living room, on my couch, watching my TV.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" And, sorry, but it just kind of comes out.

Ryan's eyes widen to the size of like, the moon or something, like he's never heard anyone swear before, and of course, this is when my parents decide to show up with none other than Pastor George at their side.

"Brendon Boyd Urie!" My mom screeches, and I'm pretty sure her and my dad both just had ten different heart attacks at once. Pastor George just kind of stands behind them, with absolutely no expression on his face.

"Say sorry to our guests right now! That was very rude!"

"Uh, sorry," I mumble, and I'm pretty sure I'm still in deep shock right now. I mean, seriously? Ryan Ross? At my house? Why?! Why is God doing this to me?!

And, it doesn't help that this situation becomes 938487478237843 times more awkward to me, because of course, my brain decides to remember last night when I had one of the best orgasms in my life while thinking of him.

I instantly blush.

Ryan shrugs, and smiles like the world's a wonderful place and everything is made out of lollipops and butterflies. "Don't worry about it. I know I would have been a little surprised if I saw you sitting on my couch with no warning."

"Um, yeah..." I say awkwardly, and I kind of want to ask him if it hurts sometimes, being such a saint and all.

My mom shoots me a hard look, and says, "Brendon would have had a warning if he would have come home when he said he was."

"Sorry... me and um, Jon... got uh, caught up in a... video game?" I stumble out awkwardly, and yes, I know, I'm the worst liar in the history of this planet, and my parents totally know this to. However, before they can say anything, Pastor George laughs, and shakes his head with the same kind of 'the world is a wonderful place' attitude like his sons. "Boys will be boys."

Mom and dad laugh like this is the funniest thing they've ever heard in their poor, pathetic lives.

I kind of just want to run away.

Once they finally stop laughing, dad looks back at me, and says, "Anyways, Brendon, you know Pastor George and his son, Ryan."

"Um, yeah. 'Course."

"We invited them over for dinner," mom explains. "You know, where you were supposed to be too. We thought you and Ryan could hang out and get to know each other a little better since you go to the same school and are practically the same age and everything."

"Um, yeah, great."

I kind of shuffle my feet side to side, staring down at the ground and I can feel Ryan looking at me from across the room. My face burns even more, and I really have to get this blushing problem checked up on.

"Ryan, why don't you two go up to your room for awhile? There's still sometime before they head out," Mom suggests, and I think, Oh, yeah, great, for sure. Fantastic!

There's not much I can say because Ryan's already getting up off the couch, and the only thing I can really do is put on a big, fake smile because I'm already in enough shit as it is, and I know my parents are just waiting till they're gone before killing me. I can just tell by the looks on their faces that they're planning my death as we speak.

Once we're up in my room, Ryan really doesn't waste any time before getting to the point. "So, Brendon, are you gay?"

I guess that's when I start choking on like, the air or my spit or something, and while I'm standing their hacking up my lungs, Ryan just stares up at me with wide, inquisitive eyes. When I finally stop coughing, I kind of just stare at him, blushing, and since I've never really been the type to deny my sexuality, I kind of just shift my eyes around the room and say, "Yes." Then, just to sound somewhat tough or something (even though I'm like, the farthest thing from) I add in, "Is that a problem?"

His eyes widen, and he looks a little taken back by this, and I really don't know why he's surprised because I'm pretty sure the whole school knows I'm a fag. "Uh, no," he manages to mutter out, and now he just looks really, really uncomfortable. "I just... heard some, um, things and I didn't know if they were true or not..."

"Well, they are."

"Yeah." He clears his throat, and his eyes dart around the room, like he's afraid he'll turn gay just by looking at me. "I've never known anyone, um, you know... homosexual before."

The way he forces out homosexual, like he's going to be struck down from just saying it, makes me burst out into a fit of laughter. Embarrassingly enough, a few snorts even slip out.

He kind of just stares at me, and blinks, like he doesn't get the joke. "What? I haven't. At least, not that I've known of."

I'm still laughing, and I'm grabbing onto my stomach, practically keeling over. I don't even know why I'm still laughing, because it's not even that funny.

Ryan twists his face together, and he looks a little offended now. "Why are you laughing at me?"

I shake my head, and my laughter finally dies down to short, little giggles. I'm wiping the tears that fell from my eyes from the fit, and when I finally stop all together, I pull my lips together and look back at him, forcing a straight face. "Sorry," I mumble.

There's a long, awkward pause, and I'm kind of just shifting my eyes around my room, waiting for him to dash out my door and never look at me again. It's quiet for a long time, and after a good solid five minutes of silence, I'm getting kind of annoyed. So, I look over at him and say, "Look, if you have a problem with it you can just--"

"No! No!" he says quickly, cutting me off. "I don't! I was just... I was just wondering if it was true. And yeah, I'm just a little shocked, because, I don't know, you just don't look..."

"Like I suck cock?"

Ryan's the one to finally turn five billion shades at this, and then this time, he's also the one to start choking on the air or his spit, and I'm pretty sure he's going to fall over and die.

Of course, that's when all three parents decide to rush in, and they're patting and rubbing Ryan's back. My mom shoots me a look, like I was the one that choked him with nothing, and was just standing there to watch him die.

Yeah and where were they five minutes ago when I was choking to my death and Ryan was just staring at me, huh?

When Ryan finally gets over his coughing fit, like, a trillion hours later, he sends a quick glance at me and then doesn't look back again for the next ten minutes until him and his dad leave. Then, when the door closes behind them, I don't have to think twice before I'm practically dashing to the stairs, away from my mother's wrath. I can see it in her eyes; it's going to be bad.

"Brendon Boyd Urie!" she yells from behind me, and her voice is so loud, and squeaky, and just oh my god terrifying when she's mad, there's not much else I can do than stop dead in my tracks and pray for my life.

Then, my dad just kind of stands there with his hands in his pocket, and staring up at the ceiling like he's oblivious to the whole thing.

"Do you know how much you embarrassed me in front of the Pastor tonight?! Do you have any idea?!"

"...I'm sorry?" I reply meekly, and run my foot along the wooden floor.

"And why did you have to be so rude to Ryan?!" she cries, and her face is all red and splotchy and I'm pretty sure she's stabbing me repeatedly with her eyes.

And, hey, that's totally unfair, because I thought I was being pretty damn nice. I don't say this though, because I know what my mom's like when she's angry, and I know, that if you want to walk out alive, you just have to agree with her, no matter how unfair it is. "I'm sorry, mom." I say, still staring down at my feet.

"I think it'd be good for you if you became friends with him or at least civilized with him. You need to make some friends with --"

"Good head's on their backs," I finish off for her. "Yes, mom."

There's a long pause, and my mom's face starts to go back to the normal color, and her eyes soften. I exhale a sigh of relief, because I know I'm off the hook, until she goes, "You're coming to church tomorrow."