Part Two

All weekend, Brendon had been dreading school. He despised the anxiety it gave him and how his hands wouldn't stop shaking when he walked through the doors Monday morning. He couldn't help it. It was something he had to deal with constantly and that day it was exceptionally bad.

Another new constant in his life was Pete Wentz. The kid bothered him whenever they caught glimpses of each other in the hall. He'd practically yelled through the crowds of students just to say hi and brought unwanted attention to Brendon. Brendon kept his cool, 'I don't give a fuck' attitude, obviously, but it still raised the anxiety he held and made him want to scream.

By lunch period, he discovered Pete was in the same lunch hour as him. He had anticipated the kid trying to sit with him and talk his ears off, but was pleasantly surprised when that didn't happen. He had seen Pete at lunch, but it seemed Pete hadn't cared about seeing him. He was busy sitting with another kid that Brendon recognized as Patrick Stump, a somewhat nerdy, outcast kid. He knew Patrick was smart and shy, but that was the extent. He was surprised, to say the least, that the two of them were friends.

The rest of the day continued as per usual, but with a little something extra. And that had been making his algebra teacher's jaw drop when he actually handed in his homework. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed watching her look totally flabbergasted.

When the bell rang to dismiss them, Brendon had an hour and a half to kill before the soccer game started. He didn't want to go home, knowing his dad didn't work on Mondays, but he didn't want to stay at school, either. He decided just aimlessly roaming the neighborhood was the best course of action and headed towards the front doors of the school. On the way there, he had to pass the locker rooms which were filled with the sounds of the rowdy soccer teams. He caught a glimpse of a few of the away team players out by the vending machine. Ducking his head, he quickly made a beeline around them, but wasn't watching where he was going.

One of them had stuck their foot out, causing Brendon to trip and go flying to the hard ground. The contents of his backpack were sprawled across the floor and he winced at the pain in his hands and knees.

The two jocks just laughed, one of them kicking Brendon's notebook. Brendon didn't even have a chance to fight back or shoot them with a snarky remark as they'd already disappeared back into the locker room.

Brendon growled and then huffed a sigh as he stood slowly. He started collecting his things, hoping no one saw what had just happened. But, of course, it was just his luck that someone did.

Brendon turned abruptly when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He had to look up to find the face of the stranger standing before him.

"You okay?" He asked, holding out Brendon's notebook for him.

It took Brendon a moment to place his face. He had somewhat shaggy hair that went in every direction and partially covered his deep blue eyes. His face was soft, but well-defined and Brendon had to look away as not to stare. He noticed he wore a soccer jersey as well. That's when he recognized the kid. Dallon Weekes. Also known as the new kid who had just started at their school earlier in the year. He was already one of the star players for their soccer team.

"Yeah, fine," Brendon said, somewhat sheepishly. He quickly took his notebook, his hand briefly touching Dallon's,  and shoved it in his bag.

Not wanting to feel any more embarrassed than he already had, Brendon turned to leave without another word. He heard the other players leaving the locker room, calling for Dallon to head out for warm ups. Dallon must not have cared that much if Brendon was okay because when he chanced a glance over his shoulder, the tall boy was gone.

Figured.

Despite Brendon maybe, possibly, briefly being hung up on Dallon's handsome face, he was an athlete. A jock. Popular. Brendon was a nobody and he liked to keep it that way. The fact that they even happened to brush hands (literally) was like a cosmic phenomenon.

Brendon pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He wanted to forget the matter even happened. He wanted to  get rid of the anxiety rising in his chest, so he started walking again and didn't stop for a very long while.

Brendon walked through the bright, spring grass towards the soccer field. For a March day, it was rather warm, prompting him to take off his jean jacket and tie it around his waist. The game hadn't even started and already the bleachers were filled with students, parents, and facility alike. In their town, this was the sport. Not football or basketball or even softball. Soccer was where it was at. With a nationally ranked team like theirs, no one dared miss the first game of the season.

And it was just Brendon's luck. Already he was spotting people he'd rather not associate with outside the school halls. Or at all, for that matter. It made pulling out a camera and snapping photos seem all the more awkward. He felt extremely self-conscious standing so close to the field to try and find a good angle for shots.

The crowd's sudden cheers made him jump as the home team ran out onto the field. Brendon raised his camera, snapping a few pictures before the game started.

Brendon wasn't all that well versed in sports, they just didn't interest him. So when the announcer started to narrate the game, he pretty much tuned it out. That was, until he heard a certain player's name.

"Number six, Dallon Weekes, making a pass to number eleven..."

Brendon's ears perked up and his eyes quickly scanned the field. He didn't know why he had the sudden urge to look for Dallon. Perhaps it was simply because of their chance meeting? Brendon decided that's what it was.

But then he spotted him. The tall boy moved surprisingly gracefully over the turf. He weaved around other players skillfully, his feet guiding him as if they were some sort of calibrated machine. No wonder he was considered a star player.

Fumbling for the camera, Brendon quickly raised it, wanting to get some pictures before his view got blocked.  He moved down edge of the field, snapping photos as Dallon stole the ball and headed for the goal. He took a shot, scoring effortlessly. The crowd erupted in cheers and Dallon smiled cooly, getting a few pats on the back from his teammates. Brendon captured a photo of that smile and looked down at the camera screen to marvel at it for a moment. It was a pretty damn good shot, if he said so himself. You could even make out the glimmer of Dallon's blue eyes.

The game continued on and Brendon continued to snap photos here and there. He didn't want to admit it, but he was actually enjoying himself. The background noise of the crowd soon became barely a bother. He hadn't even been giving second thoughts to who might be witnessing this new job as photographer. He didn't care if he looked uncool or it ruined his reputation as a smart-ass kid who didn't give a shit. He was just taking pictures.

When the game ended with the home team at a two point lead, the crowd was ecstatic. It was a successful first game. Both teams shook hands and the losing team left the field, defeated. Everyone cheered the home team as they patted each other on the back and headed towards the locker room. Brendon realized for the first time since the game started just how close he was to the field. He stepped back as the herd of tall, muscular dudes came his way. Most of them didn't give Brendon a single glance. Some just thumbed their nose at him or regarded him with an odd glance. But when Dallon passed, Brendon hadn't been prepared for the dazzling smile the tall boy shot him. Brendon would've been tempted to take another photo had the smile not paralyzed him. It was an odd feeling that Brendon couldn't quite place. A fluttering in the pit of his stomach, somewhat like anxiety, but this feeling didn't make him want to scream or punch walls. No, this feeling he didn't mind so much. Dare he say, he may even have liked it.

When he finally unfroze his feet from the grass, the crowd was already upon him. Everyone was moving towards the exit, Brendon getting swept into the mass. He quickly shoved his camera back into his bag to follow and leave.

Trekking home proved uneventful, but Brendon found himself eager to run upstairs and look at the photos he took. He usually wasn't eager about anything - unless you counted wanting the school day to end. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he felt genuinely excited about something. Not since... not for awhile.

When he did reach home, his father was passed out in his recliner while his mother fiddled in the kitchen. He easily avoided them both and hurried up to his room.

He tossed his book bag in front of his dresser and kicked off his shoes beside it, as per usual, before flopping down on the bed. He'd already pulled out the camera on his way up the stairs and was turning it on. When he hit the 'view pictures' button, the first one to pop up was the one of Dallon smiling at the beginning of the game. He, once again, couldn't help but take a moment to stare at it. God, was he attractive. Brendon had almost always known he liked guys, but never had one caught his eye so much. Not in his real, everyday life, anyway.

The longer he stared, the more uncomfortable he grew with himself. What was he doing? He was Brendon Urie! A loner kid who didn't give a shit about anything or anyone. He didn't get crushes! Certainly not on lanky, blue-eyed, athletic boys. What was he thinking?

Shaking off those uneasy thoughts, Brendon continued to flip through the pictures. Dallon's face showed up once again in the next few... and the next few... and the next few. His palms began to sweat and his heart sped up as Brendon was now super-speeding through the roll of pictures. Panic rose in his chest when he realized what he'd done...

Every picture he had taken was of Dallon Weekes.