"So how are you going to do it?" Jac asks, a small smile on her lips as she inhales from her cigarette. "You know. Get Brendon in your bed."

"Why does that smell so funny? And I don't know." I respond flatly, and she exhales dramatically through her nose, smoke billowing out her nostrils. "Cloves," She responds, pressing the cigarette in my hand. "And it's not that fucking hard. He's gay, yeah?"

"Well... yes."

"And you're hot, yeah?"

"No, I'm not hot." I say, and she rolls her eyes, sitting up straight. I'm laying flat on my back, my head on a fluffy throw pillow on her bed. I glance up at her, pressing the cigarette to the desk. It hisses out, and will probably burn the wood. Jac doesn't flinch.

"Look at this." She demands, running her hands along her curves, fingers sinking into her skin, and God, I'm definitely looking. "I'm sexy as hell, Ryan Ross."

"And that has to do with me because...?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Because I can get pretty much any guy I want, and I chose you to go to that party with me, way back when."

"That was less than two months ago."

"Metaphorically speaking. This story moves pretty quickly. Lina really needs to work on her character development." Jac says, and I nod. "It's true. She's pretty shitty at it. Thank goodness she has some new plotlines and character arcs soon."

"Yeah, thank goodness. Anyway, my point is, I wanted you out of every guy in this damn school. So I'd say you're pretty hot."

"Thanks, J." I mumble, and then I pause. "Also. Could we continue what we started before the Halloween Dance...?" I ask, desperate to end this conversation. She narrows her eyes. "Focus, Ryan. I'm all for a FWB deal, but we've got to discuss Brendon first. You're avoiding the topic..." She singsongs, raising her eyebrows, and I groan. "Look, he's gay and single, and you're red H-O-T." Jac spells, wiggling her hips, and I laugh despite myself. "So? He's not some type of whore. Why would he want me? I'm not even interesting." I mumble, scoffing, and she leans forward, smacking me lightly across my cheek.

"Excuse you. You are so. And you're my best friend." She says simply, and my eyes widen. "I...am?" I ask, and she huffs. "Yes. And I...well, I love you. I want you to be happy. And Brendon makes you happy." She says, looking downwards, as if she expects me to laugh at her.

I don't.

"I love you too, Jackal." I tease, using the nickname I made up for her the other day. The corners of her mouth curl upwards. "Thanks, Ryebread." She whispers, pecking my lips and sighing broodingly. "But again. Off topic. So, Ryan, my dear, what is your beau's weakness?" She asks, her voice pitching upward as she puts on a trilling British accent. I laugh. "Brendon's weakness? Drugs, maybe."

She frowns. "Well, slipping Brendon a roofie won't do anything for you. Romantically, anyway. Also, it's illegal." She says thoughtfully.

"Jac! I would never." I say severely, and she shrugs. "I was just saying. I'm trying to explore all of our options."

"Giving Brendon Rohypnol isn't an option."

"Okay, fine." She mutters. "Well, let's look at it from another angle."

"What's the angle?"

"What would make you want Brendon to be yours, more than anything?" She asks, and I snort. "Brendon could stab me repeatedly and I'd still want him to be mine."

"That's fucked. Also, not what I mean. Say Brendon did something that drove you crazy, made you want to grab him and declare your eternal love. What would it be?"

"He could wear those jeans from the women's department, the ones he wore last Tuesday."

"Ryan." She says, narrowing her eyes.

"Okay. Fine. Um..." I mutter, mentally shuffling through my collection of fantasies about Brendon. Mostly, just sex. Sex, and holding him, running my fingers through his silky hair and gazing into his huge brown eyes.... off topic. I push aside the thoughts, biting my nails as negative images bloom in my brain. Brendon, at a party, injecting something foreign into his arm, collapsing on the floor, twitching in a seizure. Brendon, pushing me away as I try to kiss him. Brendon, holding another's hand, his smile full of everything I want directed towards me.

It takes me a moment to feel a hot tear dripping down my face. Jac notices as the same time I do, and she dips her fingers into the water, massaging it into my skin. "I'm sorry." She says quietly, and I sniff, my lips quivering. "I just... I care too much. And he doesn't care enough." I whimper, and Jac's face hardens.

"Hey. Hey, he does. Ryan, he loves you." Jac babbles, the words blurring together as she wraps her thin arms around me. Her hair is dry as it brushes against my cheek, and her skin smells like bubblegum and orange blossoms. "He does care." She continues, rocking me slightly, as if she isn't younger and smaller than me. "I see the way he looks at you. You've said it yourself, Ryan. He's an open book."

I shake my head, letting out a small keening noise. Jac buries her nose in my hair, breathing slow and even. I try to match the pace, but my hands are twitching madly, and everything seems so overwhelming.

"Breathe." She says, the word soft and barely there. "Ryan. He's yours. You don't even need to mastermind a big plot, I'm telling you. You could make that boy do anything."

"No." I say simply, the one word enough. No. Brendon Urie doesn't love me. Jac is deluded, a wild romantic. "I'll try, if it makes you happy. I'll go along with.. whatever." I rasp, and Jac nods. "It's a start." She says, running a hand through my hair. I close my eyes and pretend it's Brendon.

Not the same. Brendon smells musky, like the woods and weed and guitar polish. But it's enough, for now.

"What did you think about? When you started crying?" Jac asks, and I make a soft huffing noise. The first two thoughts obviously aren't options. But the third....

"Brendon, with someone else. Touching them, looking at them like they... like they hung the world."

She nods thoughtfully. "Ryan Ross, I have an idea." I glance up at her. "Oh?"

"Oh." She confirms. "We, my friend, are going to make him jealous."

I bite my lower lip. "How?" I murmur, and Jac shoots me a seductive look, leaning forward, running her tongue along my neck, her breath hot and shaking. "By being our slutty selves." She says, and I can't help it: I laugh.

"But we need to do more than that..." She says, pulling away. I whimper slightly at the loss of body heat, and she places a palm on my chest. "We need to make him witness it. If my crush was with another girl, I'd leave right away."

I frown at her. "Your crush?" I ask, and Jac blinks. "Shut up."

"You do have a heart!" I crow, and she narrows her eyes at me. "Yes. And I'm never saying who."

"Please?" I plead, and she hesitates. "No. You'd make fun of me."

"What do they look like?" I ask, and Jac frowns. "Dark haired. Hazel eyes. An asshole, but... I think there's more to them..." She says, and I snort. "Jac, I'm flattered, but my heart belongs to another."

She scoffs. "You wish, fag. They're shorter than you. Also, I would never get between you and Brendon."

"That's a relief. I might have to kill you, if you ever do." I say with a straight face, and she cuffs me upside the head. "I'm too pretty to die."

I laugh, and she pecks my cheek affectionately. "So, Ross, how do you feel about a road trip?"

***
Brendon's POV

"Thank you for this." I say, sighing and furrowing my brows. Lauren giggles. "It's my pleasure. We've only known each other since childhood. But remind me of why this is a thing?"

"Because I'm making Ryan jealous."

"Ryan, who... has a girlfriend?" Lauren asks, tilting her head to the side and raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. I study her face thoughtfully. She's perfect girlfriend material: smart, funny and understanding, not to mention pretty. She's short and curvy, with big hazel eyes, dark lashes that brush her arching cheekbones, a button nose, and dark brown hair that's slightly wavy. She's pretty much the female version of Ryan, minus the height. I'd totally be attracted to her.. if I wasn't gay, and she wasn't a lesbian. It's a perfect scenario: no chances of attraction, and Ryan will totally get vibes of... well, himself.

"Ryan, who has a girlfriend. But he's gay." I confirm, and Lauren's brows crease further. "If he's gay, then why does he have a girlfriend?"

"Because he doesn't know he's gay." I explain, and she snorts. "Brenny... I don't even want to ask." She mumbles, wrapping an arm around my waist. It fits into the small of my back effortlessly, and I smile. It also helps that Lauren has been acting since she was six. She can fake anything.

"What do I do?" She asks, and I smile. "Touch me. As much as you can. Smile at me, and just.. look at me the way you looked at Janie." I say, naming her girlfriend. Well.. her ex-girlfriend. She sighs lightly. "I don't know about that, but.. I'll convince them. How far is too far?" She asks, and I grin. "Ryan had the audacity to invite me to a concert, with Jac Vanek." I murmur, and Lauren's eyes widen slightly. I didn't tell her all the details. "There's no limit."

Lauren nods slowly. "Where are we meeting them?" She asks, and I nod towards a beat up looking car. "That's Jac's." I say, eyeing the two figures sitting on the hood: a tiny girl with streaming blonde hair, and a taller boy who is slouching. "Let's go." I say, throwing an arm around Lauren's shoulders. She smiles, tugging her shirt slightly down and messily ruffling her hair. She looks slightly high, in love, and completely at ease. But I know Lauren, she's full of anxiety and often shy. This isn't her, not really.

I guess we all wear masks.

"Hey, Ryan!" I call as we strut toward the car, Lauren smiling dreamily up at me. I see Ryan stiffen, see his eyes sweep over us. I don't hold back my grin.

"This is my girlfriend, Lauren! I figured I'd bring her along."

***

"This is my girlfriend, Lauren! I figured I'd bring her along."

My mouth goes dry, and I feel Jac's gaze on me. I knew it. I knew it.

He doesn't love me. He never, ever did. Why would he? I'm... me. Flawed, and ugly. Disgusting, in comparison to her.

But I won't ruin this. Today is supposed to be fun. I'm going to a Green Day concert, with my best friend, the love of my life, and... an extremely beautiful, kind looking girl. Who is clinging onto Brendon, a sweet smile on her lips. Brendon is smiling back down at her, his gaze warm. My throat aches.

"H-Hi, Lauren." I stumble, folding my shaking hands together and shooting the two what I hope is a happy smile. I have a feeling it looks strained.

"Hi, Ryan. It's so nice to finally meet you!" She says, and even her voice is perfect, smooth and soft and slightly childish. Jac is gazing at her with something akin to wonder in her eyes.

Brendon beams at her. "Sorry I didn't warn you two. Lauren and I have been a thing for months. We've been trying to keep it quiet, y'know?" He says, staring directly at me.

I don't know. I don't know anything, apparently. But I press my lips together into a smile. "I know. Jac and I, too." I say, grabbing her hand. It's slightly sweaty. This isn't going very well.

"Well, we better go!" Brendon says, motioning to the car. "We wouldn't want to miss GD."

***

This is perhaps the most awkward car ride, ever. We're making desperate small talk, and I keep meaning to bring up a joke or ask Brendon about class assignments, anything to hear his voice, but I keep glancing into the mirror, staring at Lauren and Brendon's hands, entwined together, like they'd always been like that. Maybe they have been.

Jac makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat, reaching over and popping in a CD. It's Green Day, ironically, and the iconic bass of American Idiot is played, tinny and sudden, like a punch to the face. I silently tap my foot along to the beat, and in the backseat, Lauren makes a noise of disgust.

"Really, Vanek?" She asks scornfully. "You don't have Dookie? Or Kerplunk?" She asks, and Jac giggles, her voice slightly high pitched. I frown. That's... out of character.

"Left em in my dorm, although they're much better than this." Jac says, waving one hand around in the air, the other clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. Lauren nods. "I second that. American Idiot fucking sucks. It isn't punk! It just goes on and on about fucking politics and depression, and—"

"I like it." I say quietly, and the car is almost instantly filled with an awkward silence. Lauren blinks, her eyes widening. "Oh, um, I'm sorry." She says, her face looking sincerely apologetic. I groan inwardly. It'd be better if she didn't mean it, if her voice was overly honeyed and fake. It would make it a lot easier to hate her.

"It's whatever." I mumble, glancing down.

After a few more minutes of Billie Joe wailing (Okay, it is kind of tiresome after a while), Brendon speaks. "Hey, Ry, you look like a 13 year old fangirl." He says, laughing and pointing to my overly tight Green Day shirt, which is overtop black jeans, converse, and several pins for Green Day. My eyes are aggressively lined with kohl.

A surge of irritation runs through my body, and I turn to Brendon, narrowing my eyes. Stupid fucking Brendon, with his jokes that everyone is laughing at and his perfect face, and his beautiful girlfriend who he's pressed against, their bodies curving against each other like they were sculpted to be fit together, a stupidly beautiful, perfect puzzle.

"Yeah, well—" I hiss, my eyes running scornfully along Brendon's outfit. A plain red V-Neck, vans, and tight jeans that hug every curve and contour of his body perfectly. My stomach tightens.

"At least I don't look like a fucking slut." I growl, and Brendon's face goes blank. No warning, the animated smile that had been there, mixed with slight concern, probably because I was glaring at him, melts away, leaving almost empty eyes and parted lips. He takes a deep breath, and it shakes. Lauren's eyes widen, and she glares at me, her gaze full of fury. "Hey, hey, B, it's okay." She murmurs, but Brendon still looks absolutely horrified, and goddamn, why does he look like that?

After a minute, Brendon gulps, rubbing his closed eyelid with his knuckle. "I'm fine. L, seriously, I'm okay." He says gently, patting her hand. "I just—you know."

"Yeah. I know." She says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and we have a stare-down. Her eyes are wide and hazel, with lashes that curl in the corners, and they're narrowed in anger.

They're copies of mine, practically. She purses her lips into a firm line, and she glances down to Brendon's hand, which is balled into a fist. She sighs, stroking her fingers along his, pressing into his pulse point and massaging it until his hand relaxes. She slips hers into his, and he squeezes it, placing his head on her shoulder, a grateful smile on his face.

And although she doesn't deserve it, I feel all the hate in my heart pouring out, aimed at Lauren.

***

"Alright, everyone, this is our last song!" Billie Joe calls, and the crowd shrieks. Jac jumps up and down, her hair bouncing everywhere. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close. She laughs, before yelling a loud "Hell Yeah!" towards the stage. I snort, tilting my head back and letting out a whoop.

The concert has been surprisingly perfect. No arguing or anger, just music. Lauren, Brendon, Ryan, and Jac. The four of us against the music. Or rather, with the music.

Hell, we are the music.

The crowd shrieks as the band begins the opening bars to Basket Case, and I feel Brendon sidle up to me, his hand sliding around my shoulders. I blink, and the music.. fades away. My arms, which were wrapped around Jac, go limp, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her beam and slink away.

"I love this song." Brendon breathes, his breath hot against my skin, and I flush, turning my head and looking into his eyes, which are dark. A soft smile is on his face, and the crowd seems to vanish. My limbs are liquified, warm and tingling.

"Me too." I murmur, and Brendon pulls me close, his hands roaming everywhere. We silently watch the band, the music loud and jarring. It's perfect, and I begin to sing along loudly, Brendon's voice joining with mine. I hear Jac and Lauren singing too, and yes, yes, this is it. This is where I want to be. With Brendon, trapped in with the heat and the music, our bodies close together. Where they were made to be. I laugh wildly, and so does Brendon. We hold each other and we laugh, swinging our heads and hips along to the music. I play air guitar in time to the song, dancing around as well as I can in the crowded space, and Brendon does too, grabbing my hands and twirling me. I giggle, joining in, and then we're kissing, hands on cheeks and lips brushing.

Oh, God. I'm kissing him. I'm kissing Brendon Urie, I'm kissing Brendon Urie. Our arms are wrapped around each other, and bodies are pressing against us, and still, the song plays. I feel our teeth bang against each other, and it's messy and rough and I think I might taste blood, but I don't care, because it's worth it. This is where I belong, who I belong with.

Then the song ends.

I pull away. What in the hell am I doing? This is not the plan. I'm not supposed to just... kiss him. I have to make him want me. I have to make him love me. I hold back a sob. This... it's not enough. As much as I want it to be, it's not.

Brendon has Lauren. He could leave me in an instant.

So, I pull out of his arms, trying to ignore the confused look on his face. It's not real. It's not like what I'm about to do will hurt him, I reason with myself.

I walk over to Jac, tapping her shoulder. She's cheering for an encore, her cheeks flushed. She turns to me, a grin on her face. Lauren is standing behind her, a shy smirk plastered on her lips, and I almost do a double take. She looks... different, somehow. But whatever. Doesn't matter. I'm not here for Lauren.

"Hey, Vanek. Share the love." I tease, pulling her forward by the belt loops on her jeans, letting her squeal in her playful way, before leaning in and pressing my lips to hers.

I can almost feel the question in the way she kisses me, hesitant and unsure. She asks me, through her kisses, Are you sure you want to do this? And I just kiss her firmly, not rough or seductive like it was with Brendon, but more strict, orderly. Yes. My lips say. I have to.

So I do.

And Jac delivers, because she always does. How much? She asks, by biting down gently on my lip and retreating. I smile against her mouth. It's all or nothing, now. It's Brendon or No Brendon, now. So I say As much as you can, by poking my tongue into her mouth. It's not sweet or romantic, like normal frenching, more stiff and expected, as if it's a business arrangement. Jac and I, we can be slow and sweet, and we've definitely made each other feel good, but this isn't one of those times. This is me using her, and as much as I hate to do it... I still am. Guilt sweeps through me, and for a minute, I consider pushing her away, consider apologizing and hugging Jac, my best friend, but....

But.

I don't.

I slip my hands under her shirt, and I can hear the crowd parting. The concert is over, and there's definitely eyes on us. I smile savagely against her lips. Good. Everyone should see us. Jac and I. Me and my girlfriend. Hah! What a joke.

If Brendon has stupid fucking Lauren, if Brendon can just not care about me, then I can do the same.

So I kiss Jac, I let her straddle herself to my hips (how does she do it standing up?!) and I let my arms involuntarily wrap around her lower back, hoisting her up so her arms are around my neck as I hold her. We hardly pull away for air, and when we do, it's at the same time, quick puffs and harsh breaths. It's uncoordinated, now, tongues stroking against each other and hands digging into skin.

At this point, I'm not thinking of Brendon. It's like all of my animal instincts have taken over, and my brain is just saying more, more, more. I'm fine with obliging.

We're writhing against each other, and I moan lightly, Jac grinding herself against my body. I move down to her neck, sucking marks mercilessly against her skin, my teeth grazing the flesh. She tilts her head up, exposing more, and I laugh, dark and low in my throat, continuing my battle against her neck.

It's not until a few minutes later, when I hear a laugh from the stage. "Looks like we have a few lovers in the crowd," someone calls into the microphone, and Jac and I break apart, our eyes widening. Oh.

Billie Joe Armstrong just noticed our very public, very embarrassing makeout. The area is nearly empty, with only a few stragglers hanging around, most of them staring at us. Jac makes an embarrassed noise against me, and slowly, I set her down, my gaze not leaving my idol, who just saw me messily make out with a girl at his concert. I pictured our first meeting going very differently. More of him reading my poetry and weeping, the effect was so profound on him. Less of me literally sucking hickeys into Jac Vanek's skin.

Our eyes meet, and he grins, shaking his head before turning back to the crew and helping them pack up. My jaw is practically on the floor, and Jac laughs, shaking her head slowly. "Huh." She says, and I smile. "Huh." I repeat, and we turn, Jac's jeans riding low on her hips, her hair messy. "I guess Lauren and Bren went back to the car." She says thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on her collarbone as we retreat to the parking lot. I nod, biting my lip. Hopefully, he saw at least some of that.

When we reach Jac's car, a rusty old junker, there's no one there. I frown, but she shrugs. "Might as well wait inside. It's cold out." She mumbles, and I snort. "It's 50 degrees. And you shouldn't be wearing skintight... everything."

She laughs, swatting my arm, and we climb inside the car, Jac cranking up the heat. I'm leaning back in my seat when I spot a piece of paper taped to the windshield. Frowning, I pull it down.

Ryan + Jac,
You two seemed... preoccupied. Lauren and I took off, we're going to hitch a ride back to school. Thanks for taking us. It was nice, I guess.

B.

I stare at the messy scrawl, my lips wobbling. Jac reads over my shoulder, and I feel her sharply inhale, and then she sniffs. I turn to face her, surprised. Her eyes are red rimmed, and she looks miserable. "Dammit." She mumbles. "We failed, Ryan."

Her voice seems to hold more than just annoyance at our ruined plan. I nod, shoulders shaking, and she opens her arms.  I fall into them, crying silently. Jac cries too, and I can tell it's not just over this.

It's everything.

So I cry about everything too. I cry over Brendon, and I cry about fear for the future. I cry about the fact that I have almost no one in this world, and I cry because I'm scared. I'm so scared.

So we hold each other, crying. And we don't stop for what feels like hours.

Finally, I pull away. "I think," I start, pausing. "I think we can say that the possibility of Brendon loving me is gone."

I want Jac to disagree. I want her to burrow into my shirt, to shake her head, to frown and lecture me.

She doesn't. We sit in silence for a minute, and then she nods.

"I'm sorry, Ryan... but I think you're right."

And with that, Jac sticks the key into the ignition, and we drive away from the venue. I rest my cheek against the window, staring out at the scenery.

It's going to be a long, long rest of the year.

***

Sorry for the depressing shit, it hurts to write 😳😳 also I'm pleasantly surprised by the quality of the semi-smut, once R and B actually have a smut scene hopefully it'll be as good as this was.