Part Three

Leaving for school that morning felt dire. It was Friday, the day Brendon had to turn his photos in to Miss Knipe. All ten of them... and all ten of them were of Dallon Weekes.

The day had come sooner than expected and all week Brendon had been mulling over what to do. He had very much debated not turning in any at all. After all, it was expected of him, he was a slacker. No one thought he'd actually care about the stupid, little extra curricular. But he did care. He cared about passing his junior year and getting the hell out of high school. But still, it was a point every ten photos. What was missing a few points? Unless him turning in nothing were to make Miss Knipe angry. Angry enough to tell Principal Smucker and he call the whole agreement off.

Brendon hated this. He was beating his head against the wall for being such an oblivious airhead. Literally. He was hitting his head against his locker, probably denting it by now.

"Hey Brenny!"

Brendon stopped and barely withheld his groan at the sound of the voice. Why did Pete always have such terrible timing? He had no choice but to face the streak-haired boy.

"Hey, Pete," He said tentatively. Brendon had given up on trying to ignore the kid back on Wednesday. No matter what he did or where he went, Pete would always pop up. He was like a ghost designated only to haunt Brendon. A really, really annoying ghost.

"What's wrong?" He asked with furrowed brows. "You didn't forget your pictures, did you? I got kind of excited on the way to the scholastic meet and took most of mine on the bus ride there."

"No," Brendon answered tersely, slamming his locker door shut. "I didn't forget."

"Then what's wrong?" Pete pried.

"Nothing," Brendon told him, heading down the hall to get to his class.

"You sure? Something seems wrong," Pete said. "Your nostrils are flaring. Seriously, I think I can see up them and to your brain. Like, Jesus, they're huge!"

"Okay!" Brendon cried. "I get it! I just don't feel like talking about it! Understand?"

Pete shrugged, "I guess so. But, hey, you can talk to me."

Brendon looked at him when he said that because for the first time since he'd started talking to the kid, Pete actually sounded serious.

"Yeah, thanks," Brendon said, brushing off the offer. "But I'm good."

Pete nodded solemnly before giving him a soft, "Smell you later, dude." And heading off to his own class.

Brendon couldn't help but feel a little guilty as he watched Pete go. The kid just wanted to make friends. Not everyone wanted to live the lone wolf lifestyle that Brendon did. Despite how easily Pete could get on his nerves, Brendon hoped he didn't hurt his feelings too badly.

The warning bell for class rung which meant the halls would soon become deserted. Brendon was about to make his way into his classroom when a sudden jerk on the back of his backpack stopped him. He was spun around abruptly to face one of the resident bruisers at the high school, Ryan Ross.

"Hey," Ryan said in a casual manner. "What up, Urie?"

Ryan was a punk kid to say the least. His spiky brown hair was loaded with some kind of hair gel and he always wore the same leather jacket he must've thought made him look cool. The kid was a slacker like Brendon, always talking back to the teacher and picking fights. He sought out confrontation for sport it seemed. Maybe it was the only enjoyment he got in their wasteland of a high school. Brendon normally wouldn't have been intimidated by such a kid, but Ryan was scrappy and often flanked by his large friends. He could easily do damage to anyone he pleased. The other thing that worried Brendon was the very fact that Ryan was speaking to him. It meant he was on Ryan's radar and he'd never been before. He was weary of this already.

"Just going to class," Brendon said slowly, making it sound obvious.

"Why were you talking to Wentz?" He questioned. Brendon found it odd.

He shrugged, "Doesn't matter. Why do you care?"

Ryan mimicked his shrug, "I was just wondering if you were a fag like him or not. After all, you're both in the same lame-ass photography club."

Woah. Brendon was taken aback by that word. Was Pete gay, too? Being out and proud wasn't a common thing in their school ever since one of Brendon's classmates was forced to transfer freshman year for being openly gay. The poor kid received death threats not only from students, but a few parents as well. When he got jumped after school one day by a group of kids, he had been permanently removed for his own safety and the family relocated. It was never confirmed if Ryan was one of the kids who jumped him or not.

"What's being in the same club matter?" Brendon questioned, trying not to accidentally allude to the fact that he was, indeed, gay.

"Seems like a club that pussy flower boys would join to make out and do other weird shit in," Ryan said. "You like that, Urie?"

"No," Brendon told him without hesitation. "And as far as I know, neither does Pete. So back off."

Honestly, he wasn't sure what Pete's sexuality was. He might not know the kid that well, but he didn't want to see Pete get treated the same way the freshman boy had.

Ryan apparently didn't like being told to back off, because when Brendon turned around, his backpack was once again grabbed. This time it was completely ripped off of him.

"Hey!" Brendon shouted, regaining his footing after stumbling and finding Ryan ruffling through his bag.

"I saw you taking pictures at the soccer game Monday," Ryan said. "You got any shitty gay porn from your little club on there?"

"Give it back!" Brendon cried, anger and anxiety boiling in his veins. He reached for the camera, but one of Ryan's friends gripped his shoulders and held him back.

Ryan pulled it out and started pressing buttons, getting the thing to turn on, "How do you get to the pictures? Oh, here!"

Genuine panic set into Brendon's chest and he knew he couldn't let Ryan see the photos on his camera. The photos of Dallon. He was mentally kicking himself for not just erasing them. But then something snapped in Brendon, a sort of animal instinct of self preservation. In a swift move, he used all the strength he had to throw the kid off and lunge at Ryan.

Ryan, being caught off guard, didn't have time to defend himself and the two went crashing to the ground in a heap. Brendon blindly swung a fist at Ryan, managing to knock the camera from his hand. It fell to the hard linoleum floor with a sickening crunch. Brendon froze at the sound and looked over to it. The screen was split with a large crack and had gone completely dark, Brendon mentally cursed. He was in so much trouble.

"Hey!" A new voice called. Brendon looked up to see his teacher, Mr. Baldwin, standing in the doorway of his classroom. "What is going on here? Urie, Ross, get up."

Both boys quickly scrambled to their feet, Brendon picking up his camera as he did. Ryan's friends had already taken off.

The teacher seemed to notice the camera and the crack it held. He looked at both boys wide-eyed, "You can explain this to the principal." Mr. Baldwin pointed down the hallway. "March." He instructed. And they did as told, Ryan uttering curses and a threat or two to Brendon the whole way there. Brendon was too worried about his fate to care about the threats. For the first time ever, Brendon cared about being in trouble.

As it would seem, Brendon's luck had finally been turning around on that Friday. Principal Smucker had simply given them both detention. He, amazingly, believed Brendon when he told the man he had done everything asked of him for photography club. Smucker gave him a warning about damaging school property, told them he and Ryan would split the cost of the camera, and said nothing else on the matter. Agreement was still in tact. While he would have to figure out a way to hide the expenses of the camera from his parents, Brendon wasn't too overly concerned with it at the moment. Instead, he was rejoicing in the fact that the camera was ruined. He couldn't show the pictures anymore and he was believed when he said he took them without having to show proof. He felt like he could fly now as a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

But, as he himself should've suspected, Brendon Urie was not that lucky.

He strode confidently into Miss Knipe's room after school and produced the broken camera, explaining the entire story to her. He left out the details of his fight with Ryan, of course, but nonetheless, she nodded in understanding. She didn't even seem that upset about the camera.

"But you said you had pictures?" She asked him.

Brendon smiled a bit cockily, "I did. But the camera won't even turn on. They're gone."

She shook her head, "They shouldn't be if the card is still okay."

Brendon's face turned white, "Huh?"

"The SD card that stores the pictures?" Miss Knipe said, as if this was common knowledge. Maybe it was to everyone who didn't just take pictures on their phones now, but it was certainly the first Brendon was hearing of it. He watched, barely even breathing as Miss Knipe opened a small compartment in the side of the camera and pulled out a little black chip. "This is what the photos are on. It looks like it wasn't damaged, thankfully."

Yeah. Thankfully.

Brendon instantly deflated. He'd been so relieved and now the weight off his shoulder came crashing back down tenfold. He wanted to die on the spot.

"Hey, hey, Miss Knipe! We're ready for a slideshow."

Correction. Now he wanted to die.

Pete bounded his way through the door with Josh in tow once again. They both came up to her desk and set their perfectly unscathed cameras on it. When Pete caught sight of Brendon's camera, he gasped dramatically.

"What did you do to Petunia!?" He cried.

"Uh, Petunia?" Brendon raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Petunia!" Pete proclaimed. "That's Petunia, that's Sally, and that's Barbara!" He pointed at all the cameras.

"You name the cameras?" Brendon asked. Why should this surprise him coming from Pete?

"Of course! But what did you do!? You killed Petunia!" Pete exclaimed. "We must have a funeral! A proper burial!"

Miss Knipe sighed and rubbed her temples, "Please just take a seat. We're going to see if... Petunia is fixable."

Pete cheered, "Rising from the dead! Even better!"

The three of them were herded into their seats, Brendon moving to sit in the same one as last time. He was thankful the other boys sat behind him again. He didn't want them to see his face when death would come to claim his tainted soul.

Miss Knipe was booting up the projector to show off the photos they had each contributed this week and decide which were the best to give to the yearbook committee. Brendon's anxiety was booting up as well, making breathing seem difficult. He debated just bolting so he didn't have to be around when she showed the photos, but he also worried how it would look. At least if he stayed he might have some chance to make up a convincing lie and explain himself.

"We'll start with Brendon's to make sure the card still works," Miss Knipe said, inserting it into her computer.

Brendon barely nodded, trying to keep a panic attack at bay. Of course it still worked. Brendon couldn't even hardly look at the board when the first picture came up.

The first few photos were of the whole team as they crossed out onto the field. They weren't the best quality so Miss Knipe skipped through them quickly.

Then came the pictures of Dallon.

"Hey, I know that kid!" Pete cried out. "What's his name? Gallon? Tallon? Something with an 'allon', right?"

"Right," Brendon mumbled, his throat very dry.

Miss Knipe stopped on the one of Dallon smiling, "This one looks nice. Very clear. Good job, Brendon."

"Thanks," He mumbled again. He was hoping that at any moment he would just sink through the floor.

The scrolling continued and one after another it was Dallon... Dallon... Dallon.

No one was saying anything and it only made the situation more awkward. Finally, after scrolling through what felt like the hundredth picture, Miss Knipe cleared her throat.

"Uh, Mr. Urie, you know you were supposed to take pictures of the whole team, don't you?" She asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Ooh," Brendon said with a shaky voice and a red face that he was trying to hide. "I-I was?"

"Yes," She said with a huff. "Was this some kind of prank? Is he a friend of yours?"

A prank. She thought it was a prank. He was Brendon Urie. He annoyed his teachers all the time with dumb shit. Of course it would be a prank.

His position suddenly shifted as he sat up more in his seat, "You caught me. I thought Dallon might get a kick out of his face on every page of the yearbook."

Miss Knipe only scoffed, "Well, I can assure you, it won't be. Nice try, Mr. Urie, but you won't be getting your points this week. And I don't want to see anymore stunts like this again, understand?"

Brendon could live with that, "Yes, ma'am."

Miss Knipe grumbled and took his card from the computer to pop in Pete's. Brendon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sighed a bit in relief, almost feeling like he could relax again. But he couldn't. He couldn't relax because when he glanced over his shoulder, both Pete and Josh were staring at him. The kind of knowing stares that told you they'd figured something out and didn't know how to react. The kind of stares that wouldn't let Brendon's anxiety go away.

And it didn't the whole rest of the time they looked through photos.

Pete's photos were a bunch of selfies with people on the bus. There was a few usable ones in the mix from the actual scholastic bowl. Miss Knipe mockingly congratulated him on them. Josh's photos were mostly well done, albeit a little dark. Miss Knipe told him she could edit them, though. By the time they had finished, an hour had passed. She told them they'd have to wait until Monday to know if there was anything going on worth photographing. The three were dismissed.

Brendon had beelined for the door. Unfortunately for him, so had Pete.

"Hey, Bren, wait up!" He called. Brendon didn't wait. He was practically jogging to get down the stairs and out the door, but he underestimated just how fast Pete was.

"Hey!" Pete caught up to him, running in front of him to block Brendon's path. Brendon was forced to come to a halt.

"What?" Brendon said impatiently. His face was still hot from embarrassment and all he wanted to do in that moment was hide from the world.

Pete looked him up and down for a moment and then smuggly said, "There's no way in hell you're friends with Dallon."

Brendon just scoffed as an attempted cover up, "You don't know me, Wentz. You don't know who I'm friends with."

"Dude, you're not as mysterious as you think. I know you don't have friends."

Ouch. That's shouldn't have hurt Brendon as much as it did.

Pete continued talking, "And mister soccer star of all people? Come on, everyone knows he's a total smoke show! And way out of all of our leagues."

Brendon cocked an eyebrow. Was he really hearing this? Pete found Dallon attractive? So he wasn't straight after all.

"So what are you getting at? You have a thing for Dallon?" Brendon asked, turning the tides.

"I didn't say that..." Pete hummed, smug grin returning. "But it seems someone here does."

Why, out of all the kids in their school, did Pete have to be the one in his mandatory extra curricular. The kid might as well have been wearing a shirt that said 'I'm going to derail all your secrets and be all up your business for the rest of your high school career'.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brendon denied. He took a step to move around Pete, but was blocked once again.

"Oh come on, man! Your face was redder than one of those little cherries they put on top of milkshakes! Those pictures weren't a prank. You liiiike him," Pete teased. He took note not to underestimate Pete's observation skills.

Brendon could feel his face get redder, but this time it was more out of rage than humiliation, "Shut the hell up! I swear to God, Wentz if you say anything-"

"So you do like him!" Pete cut in, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. "I'm not the only closeted kid at this school after all!"

Brendon paused at that comment. Was that why Pete was so insistent on knowing? Because he didn't want to be alone?

Brendon thought on that for a second before grabbing Pete by the arm. He hauled the surprised kid the extra few feet it took to exit the school and out onto the sidewalk.

Pete looked at Brendon when they were outside, his face still giddy.

Brendon looked around cautiously before taking a deep breath, "Yes, okay? I'm gay. Let's not make a big thing of it. And I don't have a crush on Dallon."

Pete gave him a disbelieving look.

"I don't!" Brendon pressed. "He's attractive, I'll give you that. Easier to take pictures of than the other apes on the soccer team."

"I can't tell you how refreshing this feels," Pete said. "When did you know? Have you always known? Do you know anyone else at our school who's closeted?"

"Chill out!" Brendon snapped. "I said we're not making it a big deal." At this point, Brendon started his walk home, Pete aimlessly following. "I don't talk about it. Remember the kid freshman year? What happened?"

"Oh yeah, of course I do," Pete said, eyes widening at the thought. "His name was Jon, I think. That was bad."

"Yeah, really fucking bad," Brendon said. "And that's why we're not going to talk about it and you're not going to tell anyone."

"Fine," Pete hummed. "Then I guess we can't talk about the dirt I have on Dallon."

Brendon stopped abruptly and grabbed Pete by the arm, "What dirt?"

He watched the shit eating grin cross Pete's face, "Why do you care? You said you didn't like Dallon."

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Brendon huffed, dropping Pete's arm.

He laughed, "I've been called worse, Beebo. But seriously, I'll tell you if you actually have a conversation with me about this. I don't have any friends I can go to about this stuff. Can't blame a guy for getting his hopes up."

Brendon's heart actually panged a bit for the kid. Sure, being in the closet at a school that would do anything to show you you didn't belong sucked ass. He understood, it was lonely as hell. For the first time, Brendon realized this actually gave him and Pete some kind of connection outside of photography club. A real connection. He couldn't remember the last time he had that with someone. The last time he let himself have that with someone.

"Getting your hopes up that we could talk about it or that we're friends?" Brendon asked, but he spoke in a teasing manner and shot Pete a friendly smile. Pete returned it in full.

"So does that mean..."

"Yeah," Brendon breathed. "We can talk about it. But only outside of school, okay?"

"You bet!" Pete cried excitedly. "Okay! Down to business. The tea on Dallon."

Brendon was all ears, but actively tried to appear less interested than he really was.

"I heard this from a girl of a friend of a girl who went to Dallon's old school. She said that Dallon had been a total ladies man there, but not actually with the ladies, if you know what I mean," Pete explained. "He'd like flirt 'em up and wine and dine them, but it was just for show. He was really out on the town getting blown in the backseat of his fancy car."

"And how would this girl have known all this?" Brendon asked. He was skeptical, but couldn't deny that butterfly feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach just from talking about this. In truth, he didn't know how he would react if he knew Dallon really was into guys. It's not like that suddenly he could go leap into Dallon's arms and stare forever in his deep blue eyes. He didn't even know the kid, for God sake!

"Well, I guess she was friends with a guy that Dallon hooked up with a lot. This guy didn't go to to their school, but she said that he said Dallon was like a sex magnet. He even got involved in a threesome with Dallon and some other kid."

Brendon's eyes widened. A threesome? The most he'd ever done was some jobs for a lifeguard at their local pool over the summer. The guy was a senior when Brendon was a sophomore and the two would occasionally hook up on his break in one of the supply closets. They never once spoke at school and after he graduated, Brendon never heard from him again. Not that it mattered. But still, for their little conservative town, Brendon thought that had been a pretty ballsy thing for him to do. But a threesome and hooking up with guy after guy? That was... hot.

"You don't think he's hooked up with other guys on the soccer team, do you?" Pete asked.

"Our soccer team?" Brendon snorted. "Doubt it."

He didn't really care to think about the other guys on the soccer team in that moment. His mind was still on Dallon. Sweaty... threesome... getting blown Dallon.

Pete must've caught onto his look, "You should talk to him."

"Are you kidding me?" Brendon was snapped out of his fantasies by Pete's utter stupidity. "You don't think that'll look weird? A guy like me talking to a guy like him?"

"What? The worst that could happen is he beats you up for speaking to him," Pete joked.

Brendon scoffed back. Dallon didn't seem like the beating up type. Not like the other jocks. But then again, Brendon really knew nothing about him. Nothing he was sure of, anyway. And yet, there he was, stuck in Brendon's head.

Brendon noticed Pete had gone silent and he decided to turn the tides again, "So tell me about Patrick."

"What?" Pete's eyes went wide and his cheeks blushed pink, "What about him?"

"You don't think you're the only observant one, do you? I know you hang out with him a lot," Brendon said, watching Pete's expression change. "You guys a thing?"

"A thing? No," Pete said, going oddly quiet for the talkative young man he was.

"Oh come on," Brendon teased. "You said you wanted to talk, so talk."

Pete shrugged solemnly which surprised Brendon, "We're not a thing. As far as I know, Patrick is straight. At least that's what he tells me."

"But..." Brendon pressed.

"But one night at a football game we made out in one of the bathroom stalls!" He blurted out. "He didn't talk to me for week and finally - thank God - he answered my texts and said we could be friends, but that he was straight and nothing more. Since then we've just hung out at school and school functions. But... I still really like him. More than a friend."

Brendon nodded after a moment, "Well, first of all, sounds like he's not straight, but afraid to admit it. And secondly, it sounds like he still likes you too."

"How do you know?" Pete asked, a little bit of hope in his eyes.

"Cause he didn't completely shut you out! He obviously still likes hanging with you," Brendon said. "Look man, just give it time. I bet he'll come around."

"You think?"

"Absolutely."

"Hey, thanks Beebo!" Pete smiled, clapping him on the back.

Brendon flinched, "You gotta stop calling me that."

"Not gonna happen."