I'm taking notes that I'll never use for Earth Science, because our teacher is in her fucking 70s, and apparently she thinks that students study. News flash: we don't.

Brendon bursts into the room, and I'm about to look up and ask if I can copy his notes if I give him my English essay, when I see the look on his face: slightly panicked, and also maniacal.

"Uh..." I say, because it's a Thursday evening, and most kids are doing homework or are hanging out, not running around, their arms laden with.... plastic shopping bags? "Hi, Brendon. Care to explain?"

He gulps, pushing his hair out of his eyes and giving me an urgent stare. "R-Ryan. I need your help. Is that work urgent? Do you have to go make out with Jac at a party?" He breathes, and the last question is surprisingly full of venom. "No, and I haven't seen her in a while, so don't even, Brend-" I start, but he waves me off. "I don't want details. I don't care. But we don't have much time... what are you still doing, sitting?!" He snaps, and I stand up quickly, blushing. "Sorry. Brendon, can you tell me what the fuck is going on?"

Brendon turns to me, a scarily serious look on his face. "Okay. You met Spencer and Gabe, right?" He asks, and I nod. "Okay. Once a year, we have a tradition. Normally William does it with us, but he, um, sprained his ankle last year, so he decided to abstain." I raise an eyebrow. "What is this.. tradition?"

He sucks in a deep breath. "Okay, so, like, you know civil war reenactments that lame people do?"

I blink. "Uh, yeah. I used to do them with my grandpa, as a kid, before he died, and actually, they aren't lam-" Brendon rolls his eyes, cutting me off for the second time tonight. "Don't want your life story, man. Anyway, we're fucking cool, so we do a cool version of civil war reenactments." He says, and I snort.

"And what is the cool version?" I ask.

Brendon, in response, tosses me something neon green, which I almost drop. Once it's secure in my hands, I frown, because there's water dripping down my hands and onto my jeans.

It's a fucking water gun.

I look up at him, my lips twitching. "This is your version of cool?" I mock, shaking the gun. Brendon steps forward, his eyes wide. "Ryan, woah, man, that's a loaded weapon. It's dangerous." He says, and I roll my eyes. "Brendon, you idiot, this is plastic." I snap, and he sighs.

"We have to act like it's real. If we get hit, we 'die'. And we also have one water balloon, which is a 'grenade' that we can throw at the other team. They have to freeze for thirty seconds. Also, I have five minutes to prep you and it's been four, so throw some shoes on. Oh, and the grenade is in here..." He says, handing me one of the shopping bags.

I blink. "So you're assuming that I'm going to do this?" I ask, and Brendon grins. "Yeah. I am. Unless you'd rather work on Science...?"

I've never moved faster in my life.

***

It turns out that Gabe and Spencer take this seriously. Very seriously.

I notice this as we arrive to our "starting point" (the middle of the sitting room downstairs) where they stand together. In matching blue t-shirts. That read "Smith" and "Saporta".

"Hey, why don't we have matching shirts?" I ask Brendon, and he rolls his eyes. "I'm not that emotionally invested in this, Ross. Plus, I asked you last minute." He says, and before I respond, he turns to Gabe and Spencer, a smirk plastered on his face.

"I won last year, idiots, and I'll win again." He says, jutting his chin out. "Plus, Ryan has experience, because he did those weird Civil War Reenactment things. We're gonna unleash a can of whoop-ass on you two."

Spencer snorts. "Uh, Brendon, this is point and shoot. I don't think that Ryan's 'experience' is going to help you."

"Um, also," I say hesitantly. "I'd just like to say that we never actually fired the guns? Also, I was nine so I wasn't allowed to hold one."

Brendon glares at me, his arms crossed. "Ryan? Why don't you shut your mouth." He seethes, and I blink. "Sorry."

"Anyway." Brendon says, turning back to the others. "We get a one minute head start. And if you're hit, you die. And you must die.. with flair." He says, sticking out his hand that isn't clutching the gun and wiggling his fingers.

Gabe sighs, tapping his foot against the linoleum tiles of the floor. "Can we hurry this up? Please?" He pleads, and Brendon sighs. "Yes. Keep time on your watch. Tell us when to start. Oh, and Ryan? Follow me." He instructs, and I nod. I'm determined not to fuck this up.

"Ready? Alright....go!" Gabe says, pulling out his watch, and Brendon immediately spins around, darting off. I stare after him for a second, but then I remember: we're on the same team. Sucking in a deep breath, I run after him, catching up to him easily (an advantage of being tall).

I have no clue where we're going, but we're weaving around mystified looking freshmen and cheering upperclassmen, because apparently they're familiar with whatever the hell it is we're doing. Well. At least someone knows.

Brendon rounds a corner, and now we're in a dimly lit hallway that I don't recognize. There's a drinks machine that has all the lightbulbs burnt out, and three doors, two of which have keypads, clearly for staff only. The other one is slightly ajar, and Brendon all but shoves me into it.

I stumble inside, and he slips in after me, shutting the door with a soft click. Slowly, he turns to me, and it's pitch black in here, so I can only vaguely make out his lithe form, when all of the sudden, a little yellow halo of light beams in his face, and I take a sharp breath as my eyes adjust and I see his huge eyes and pearly smile. Oh. A flashlight. That's what it must be, anyway, because Brendon Urie is far from fit to wear a halo.

"They'll never find us here." He says confidently. "It's sort of like a secret hiding place, for you and me."

I blink. "Oh. Well, yeah, except not at all." I splutter, and Brendon frowns. "Well, whatever. Come sit with me." He says, walking over to a corner and plopping down on the floor. I join him, and all I can think about is how our knees are brushing together, how his breath is slightly labored, how he smells like Old Spice deodorant. I'm surprised to find that I prefer the scent to girly perfume, which makes me sneeze.

"So how is school for you? Can you keep up with all the work?" He asks, and I laugh. "Yeah. I should be asking you that, party boy."

"I'm not the one with a girlfriend." He counters, and there's a pause.

"I don't... I don't have a girlfriend." I say finally, and he frowns.

"Jac?"

"Jac and I sporadically made out at a party, and then did homework together two days later. Whatever we're doing, it's not what I'd call dating." I say, and Brendon has yet another one of those expressions on his face, where I can't tell what he's thinking, which is so out of character, because Brendon, with his huge brown eyes and face that's always twisted in some sort of animated expression, is easy to read.

"Oh." He says finally, and then he shifts so our faces are next to each other, our cheeks pressing, and he's turned the flashlight off so now I can barely make out his form, and he's all greyandblackanddarkness, but oh, he's beautiful.

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, he speaks. "Ry?"

"Yeah?" I whisper, and he hesitates, sliding closer, and now our arms are wrapped around each other, and his breath is uneven, and I'm staring at his lips, which are shell-pink and parted, and he leans in, and--

The door opens, and I can see Brendon's eyes widen, that's how close we are. Then I realize, oh, shit, the door opened, which means...

Brendon slowly extends his hand, pressing a finger to my lips, commanding me to be silent, and I nod.

"I don't see them anywhere, Spin.." Gabe says, and Spencer huffs, and all of the sudden, the room is bathed in light.

Brendon and I shrink against the wall, but Spencer sees us, and calmly points his gun, spraying Brendon in the chest with a smirk.

Brendon makes a startled, choking sound, and flops onto the ground, spasming, and I sit there, confused, until Brendon stops and glares at me, mouthing join in, when I remember that he actually has to act out his death. I'm about to retort with a snarky response when I look up and Gabe and Spencer, and realize that they're also watching me expectantly, so I lean over Brendon and grab his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you?" I ask questioningly, and Brendon stares back up at me, his eyes glassy, and goddamnit, why is he so dramatic?

"I-It's my fault." He croaks, grabbing my hand and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "I tried, Ryan, I tried.." He continues, and I smirk, which makes him scowl.

"I'll stay with you." I promise, which is true, because where else would I go? Outside, I hear chatter of other students, and oh my God, they followed us and are apparently waiting for us to emerge.

"I'll be in a better place, Ross. I'll... I'll see you soon." He murmurs, and I try to stop myself, but I grin, letting out a silent laugh, and Brendon nudges me, so I stop. "This is a serious moment, I'd like to do it right. Stop toying with my dramatic tension." He hisses, and I'm physically shaking with laughter now, but I try to compose myself.

"Goodbye, Brendon..." I say, and Brendon nods, looking weak and sad, and well, like he's dying. It'd be a sober occasion if not for the fact that Brendon's chest is soaked with water and he's perfectly fine, really. There's a tiny smile on my face, that he's apparently choosing to ignore, and now he's retching, his body twitching and flailing and I'm about to lose it, because he's taking this so seriously, almost as if he's really gotten gunned down.

"I'll miss you the most." He whispers, squeezing my hand, and I smile down at him. "I know, I know. But don't worry, I'll be with you s-"

"Can you just die? Please?" Gabriel snaps, and Spencer furrows his brows together, nodding.

"Shut up!" Brendon says angrily. "You're gonna ruin my goodbye."

"You're already dead. Bang, bang. If you were really shot, you'd have bled out, and Ryan would have been shot too. In fact..." He says, aiming his gun at me and squirting me in the face. Warm water trickles down my jaw, and I roll my eyes. Brendon's fists clench, and Spencer throws his hands up in the air. "You wanted accuracy, Urie, so-"

Brendon let's out a little shriek of frustration, and he flops backwards onto the ground. "There. I'm dead. We're dead, you guys killed the fucking mood, congratulations!" He says, and Gabe's response is to shoot him directly in the crotch. Brendon gasps. "I'm dead! Why are you wasting bullets on a dead man?"

"Just making sure." Gabe says, grinning from ear to ear, and Spencer snorts. "There's no one else to shoot, anyway." He says, and Brendon stands, hauling me up with him. "Spencer James Smith and Gabriel Eduardo Saporta, you ruined my death! You should be disqualified!"

"We followed the rules. You died realistically, we just sped it up." Spencer counters, and Brendon groans. "Fineeeee."

"Now then," Gabe says, stepping forward. "You lost, meaning you guys have to do the walk of shame."

Brendon gapes at him. "We almost got expelled when we did it last year!" He cries, and Spencer laughs. "Not our problem."

I turn towards Brendon, my arms crossed. "Walk of shame? What's that?" I ask, and he hesitates. "Well... we sort of have to...." He leans into my ear, and whispers the rest, and my mouth pops open.

"Really?" I ask miserably, and Gabe nods. "Yup. Now then. Take off all of your clothes, and let's begin."

(Guess what you think the "walk of shame" will be hahaa.)