It's about five o'clock, and I'm sitting in Ryan's room, on his computer chair, spinning around and around (just like I do every other single time I come here) and everything is just a big blur of white and then a little bit of Ryan.

Okay, and I'm going to be completely honest here, Ryan's house freaks the hell out of me. It's like, this big, huge thing with three floors, even though only him and his dad live here. There's probably about a gazillion rooms in the thing too, but I'm pretty sure all the doors except for Ryan's and George's bedroom and the ones on the first floor are closed at like, all times. And, well, I've never been to the third floor, but I'm assuming it's no different.

It's an old house, built in the early 1900's and as Ryan tells me, it's been passed on through generations, so it's always creaking and groaning, and I'm pretty convinced it's haunted by every single one of his dead relatives. Then, to top it all off, practically everything in the whole freaking house is white.

Ryan's room is a little better, it's not too creepy, but still creepy enough. I mean, his walls are white and bare, there's no posters, no pictures, no nothing, except for a wooden cross hanging above his bed. His bed covers are white, his curtains are white, his dresser is white, his computer desk is white, everything is white. I mean, every time I leave his house and step out into the real world, I go temporarily blind for a few minutes, it's really that white. It's like you stepped into... a cloud or something, and I wouldn't doubt if that's what they were going fpr. You know, clouds... heaven... haha.

Anyways...

The only thing that makes Ryan's room half decent is the guitar sitting in the corner, which, thank God, is not white.

"So, Ryan," I start, and I'm still spinning around on his computer chair, and I know that if I don't stop soon I'll be puking all over his white carpet. Then again, at least it might give it some colour for once.

"Hmm?" he asks from his bed, where he's lying on his back, staring up at his ceiling.

"Tell me your biggest secret."

"No way!" he immediately cries, like he just can't even believe I just suggested such a thing.

"Why not?" I prod, still going in the chair. "Come on. You know, it's not good to keep your secrets inside, Ry Ross." I finally decide to stop spinning, because I'm really starting to get the whole oh-my-god-I'm-going-to-puke-right-now feeling, and I see about five of him lying on his bed. Which I'm totally not complaining about, because, hello? Five Ryan Ross'? I think so.

"Fine, then. Tell me yours, Bren Urie."

"I don't have one," I say. Which, is like, almost true, besides the fact that I have a disgustingly huge crush on him. But, that's not really considered my biggest secret, because well, Jon knows, right?

"Whatever," he mutters. "Then, I don't have one either."

"Come on, just tell me!" I plead, I even stick out my bottom lip for good measure, and I think I'm about this close to falling on the floor, but hey, at least there's only like, three of him now.

All three of him are sitting up on his bed now, and they look at me, unsure. "Brendon... it's really... embarrassing."

"I don't care, tell me."

He bites his lip and looks away. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever. Like, if Spencer ever found out I told you, he'd never talk to me again. And, just no one can know. Seriously."

"Yeah, yeah, I promise." I say, and wave my hand in the air dismissively. Who would I tell anyway? Jon? It's not like I have a ton of friends, or even people that would at least listen to me. I'm basically a nobody.

He puts his head in his hands, and lets out this little chocked, sobbed noise that kind of sounds like a dying puppy that's just been kicked (and oh my god! Now I just made myself depressed on top of being ridiculously dizzy and nauseous). Actually, it even sounds a little like the noise Jon kept making at Spencer earlier on at lunch. "Okay... well, when me and Spence were thirteen... we sort of... uh, made out?"

"No way!" I cry, sitting straight up in my chair, and just wow. Totally didn't expect that like, at all. Ever.

He blushes, and buries his face even deeper into the palm of his hands. "Yeah, but seriously, don't tell anyone."

I'm really thankful his face is buried into his hands, because then he cant see me grinning like a complete idiot. Because, I mean, he kissed another guy! Sure, he might have been thirteen, but this raises my chance of ever getting him to like, 0.5% as opposed to the big, fat zero I had before. "I won't. Promise."

Even though all I really want to do is run down the street yelling, "RYAN ROSS KISSED A BOY! I HAVE A CHANCE WITH RYAN ROSS!"

He finally lifts his face from his hands, and thank God I've managed to put my ridiculously, huge grin on the DL. He looks at me sheepishly, which I think is kind of stupid because I make out with guys like, daily. Okay, maybe it's one guy, and it's barely weekly, but still.

"Wanna hear what the worst part of it is?"

Yes, of course I do! "Sure."

"My dad walked in on us," he says, and I've never seen someone this red before. I don't even think I can get this red, and that tells you something.

Yeah, and I totally can't even help it when I burst out laughing, because I can't even begin to imagine what that scene must have been like. And, well, okay, the look on Ryan's cute, little face is just priceless.

"It was like, a month straight of him going on about how being gay is a sin, and listing you know, like, the three bible verses on homosexuality, which are just so vague it's... stupid. And, I mean, honestly." He shakes his head, and continues before I can even attempt to get a word in, but really, there's not much I can say anyway. Then, his voice gets all quiet and low, and I almost have to lean in to hear him properly. And I'm pretty sure he's forgotten I'm here, and now he's just talking to himself as he continues, "I think that's why he's so fixed on talking about how homosexuality is such a sin in church all the time. I mean, he makes it seem like it's worse than being a murderer or something. And, if it was so bad wouldn't it be in like, the ten commandments, you know? At least mentioned more? In the bible it says not to eat shellfish, but people still do, right? My dad does. But, yet, this one thing is so... so... huge to him. I just... I don't get it."

There's a pause, and a few minutes pass, before his voice drops again and he finishes with, "And, like you said, you don't want to lie to yourself about who you are... I mean, how is that fair that you got put in that situation? You don't see people having to turn away from their religion because they like, eat shrimp or crab, or pray without their head covered or something. So, why is this so different?"

I'm kind of at a loss for words when he finally does finish, and his face is all flushed and splotchy because I'm pretty sure he didn't take a single breath during any point of all that whole... speech. I just stare at him, trying to process this all in my head, and really, what could I say back to that? I never had the slightest clue he felt that way. I mean, before I started hanging out with him, I thought he was just like his father. Homophobic and just closed minded all together. I mean, before a few seconds ago, I still had my suspicions he was slowly just trying to turn me.

So, the only thing I can process in my mind to say is, "Yeah, I don't get it." and I feel so lame.

He twists his lips together, and nods, and that's the end of that conversation.

---

The next day at lunch when I arrive at mine and Jon's usual table, he's already sitting there with this huge grin on his stubbly face, and he's practically bouncing up and down in his plastic chair.

I take a seat and ask if he got a puppy.

"No, better!"

"...You got a kitty?"

"No!" he cries, and now I'm pretty sure his face is going to break in two, he's smiling so hard. "I gave Spencer Smith a ride home yesterday!" he practically screams this out for the whole cafeteria to hear, and some people turn around from the next table, but he's obviously way too freaking happy to care. I momentarily wonder if they listen to our conversations every day, and yeah, they probably do, but then again, it's not like I really care if they do because they're just a bunch of nerdy freshman anyway.

"How did you manage that?" I ask. "You couldn't even like, look at him without melting into a pile of goo. How could you have possibly gotten into a car with him and driven him safely home without running into a telephone pole or something?"

He blushes and looks down at the table. "Shut up, I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"Not at all," I reply back sarcastically, and sneak a glance across the cafeteria where Ryan and Spencer are back at their usual crowded table. Dayna's sitting on Ryan's lap, and they're kissing, and it totally sucks.

"Well... whatever. I'm giving him a ride home today too."

And, he does, and same with the next day, and the next day, all the way until Tuesday the next week. He's got this permanent smile on his face that seems to just get bigger and bigger everyday that I'm wondering how his mouth hasn't fallen off his face yet.

On Wednesday night, he calls. Which is kind of weird, because I know Jon hates talking on the phone and when he has to tell me anything when we're not together he just texts me. So, when I pick up the phone, it's no surprise that I barely have the phone to my ear before he's yelling for my whole household and block to hear, "BRENDON! GUESS WHAT?!"

I flinch, and I'm pretty sure I won't hear properly for the next week. "Holy shit. What?"

"GUESS!" he screams, and I almost don't want to know, because I'm kind of scared to be honest.

"I don't know. You gave Spencer a ride home again?" I attempt lamely, because I just know it has something to do with Spencer. Everything has to do with Spencer when it comes to Jon lately. But then again, I can't really be complaining, because everything has to do with Ryan when it comes to me now.

"NO! BETTER!"

"Uh..."

"WE MADE OUT!"

"Who?"

"ME AND SPENCER!!!" he screams even louder this time, and now, I'm pretty sure I've lost my hearing for the rest of my life.

"No!" I cry back, because, yeah... just no. Spencer? Kissing Jon? No. That's just... no.

"YES!"

"No!" And, I seriously, totally refuse to believe this.

"YESS!!!!!!!!!"

"You and Spencer did not make out. Are you sure you weren't just imagining it? Jon, did you drug him?" I ask, and it turns out more mean and bitter than I intended. I mean, okay, maybe I'm a little jealous, because how can Jon get Spencer, the Super Bitch, when all he can do is blubber and make awkward, drowning cat noises every time he's around and all I've got is a 0.5% chance of ever getting Ryan?

Of course, Jon is far too happy and far too up in the clouds to notice my bitchy bitterness, because he just continues to yell, and scream, and just fucking murder my ears. "BRENDON URIE! I AM NOT LYING! IT HAPPENED! I DROVE HIM HOME AND HE INVITED ME TO COME IN AND WE WERE SITTING ON HIS BED TALKING AND HE KISSED ME! HE. KISSED. ME. SPENCER SMITH KISSED ME, JON WALKER!"

"Wow," I say, because really, what else can I say? Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm on the verge of crying. Which is so totally selfish of me, and I know, because Jon has been having wet dreams about this moment since he was like, fourteen, but just, grrrrr. Not to mention, I still have a fucking boyfriend as we speak. But, grrrrrrr. Enter sad, pouty face here.

"I KNOW!"

"How was it?"

"DO YOU NEED TO ASK?! IT WAS FUCKING AMAZING! I GROPED SPENCER SMITH! THIS HAS BEEN MY WET DREAM FOR YEARS!"

See, I told you.

I force myself to listen to Jon going on for another good five minutes, because deep down, I still am I good friend. Then, finally, when I just can't take anymore I make up some lie about my parents wanting me to clean my room (even though my rooms never even had like, a shirt lying on the ground for more than a minute, and Jon knows this) and hang up.

I sit and pout for a few minutes, before picking my phone back up and dialing Ethan's number, because I think I deserve some phone sex right about now.