Part Four

Brendon never would've thought he'd actually enjoy the company of one of the kids from his school. Especially not when that kid was Pete Wentz. But the more he talked to Pete, the less annoying he actually got. Pete could be surprisingly serious sometimes and the two actually had some nice conversations over the weekend. They also had some great video game competitions in Pete's basement. For the first time in a long while, Brendon realized he was having fun. And it felt good.

That Monday, Brendon and Pete had been laughing about something on their way to Miss Knipe's room after school. Standing outside her door was Josh, who raised an eyebrow at the both of them.

"Hey, Josh my gosh!" Pete said, slinging an arm around Josh's shoulder, "What's up?"

Josh didn't say anything. He simply shook Pete off and turned to go into the classroom.

When he was gone, Brendon looked at Pete, "So what's his deal?"

"He doesn't talk a whole lot about himself," Pete shrugged. "Couldn't tell you why."

Brendon shrugged in response and the two were about to follow Josh into the classroom when Miss Knipe rushed out to meet them.

"Good, you're here," She said, looking slightly frazzled. "There's an away soccer game today and the bus is leaving in ten minutes. I need one of you to go and photograph it."

"I vote Brendon!" Pete cried before Brendon had a chance to even form a response. He shot Pete a glare.

"Think you can handle it this time, Mr. Urie?" Miss Knipe asked with a disapproving look.

"Uh..."

"Of course, he can! He learned his lesson," Pete once again interjected. "Didn't you, B?"

Brendon had an overwhelming urge to punch Pete. But he also couldn't deny the feeling of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Why did this always happen when Dallon came to mind?

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can handle it," Brendon said, more soft-spoken than he meant to sound.

"Good," She handed him a newly fixed camera. "Get down to the east doors where the bus is. Don't waste any time."

Brendon nodded and caught the little wink that Pete sent him. He huffed as he walked away, hurrying towards the bus with new found anxiety.

Brendon was already regretting this. The bus smelled like sweaty gym socks and was louder than a rock concert. Of course, because of his late notice, most of the seats were already filled. Some of the players noticed Brendon's presence and made comments like, "Photo boy is here! Eh, photo boy!"

A stray crumpled piece of paper hit Brendon in the face and he grumbled. He couldn't plop himself down in the only available seat fast enough. Lucky for him, it was at the front away from the other boys.

Brendon observed from the clock on the bus's dash that it was exactly three thirty. So why hadn't they left yet?

"Weekes!" Coach Brax hollered. Brendon looked up sharply and who was it that ran onto the bus? Of course, Dallon.

"You're late, kid," The coach said, but he didn't seem angry. Brendon guessed that was a perk of being a star player.

"Sorry, got held up after class," Dallon said smoothly.

The coach just hummed, "Take a seat."

Brendon wished he was invisible in that moment. But he wasn't. He was right up front and center for Dallon's eyes to fall upon. And they did. Suddenly Brendon's cheeks were on fire.

Dallon flashed him that same smile he had last week after the game. It made Brendon's heart skip a beat and his anxiety sputter.

"Hey," Dallon greeted him. It forced Brendon to meet his eyes.

"Hey," He mumbled back, arms folded over himself in a self-protective posture.

Dallon must've taken that as enough invitation, because he sat himself down right beside him, "You're Brendon, right?"

"Yeah," Brendon mumbled again. His eyes left Dallon's and he looked out the bus window. He didn't mean it to seem rude, but it was like he'd suddenly forgotten how to act. Not to mention, he didn't want Dallon to notice his rosy cheeks.

"I'm Dallon," He continued to speak.

"Yeah, I know."

Brendon couldn't see his face, but he knew Dallon was grinning, "You know?"

"Yeah, dumbass, you're like mister big shot soccer star," Brendon retorted.

"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm a star," Dallon chuckled, trying to be coy. Brendon immediately caught onto Dallon's game. His personality was made up of every 'cool guy' component. Witty, cheeky, cocky. He probably walked around like he was the shit too. So why did Brendon feel drawn to him?

"Everyone else would," Brendon told him, finally turning more towards him. "Why are you talking to me, man?"

Dallon shrugged, "'Cause it's a long ride and we're sitting together."

"Doesn't mean we have to talk," Brendon responded, leaning down to unzip his backpack. He pulled out his phone and a pair of earbuds.

Dallon just shrugged again, "Okay, so we'll listen to music." Once again, without invitation, he grabbed Brendon's earbuds and popped one side in his ear. "What are we listening to?"

"We?" Brendon questioned, amazed by his brazenness.

"You don't expect me to sit in silence the whole ride, do you?" Dallon smirked at him.

Brendon's heartbeat sped up again at that smirk. He quickly looked away and fumbled with his phone. He pulled up his music and started scrolling through, "Uhhh, you like Kansas?"

"Yeah," Dallon said casually. "I'm always in the mood for a little 'Carry On My Wayward Son'."

A small smile pulled at the corners of Brendon's mouth and he started the music. They listened in silence for about half the song before Dallon started to talk again.

"Get any good pictures of me at the last game?"

Brendon's eyes grew comically large. Why would he ask that? Did he know about Brendon's obsessive photo taking of him? It was Pete, wasn't it? Pete told him. Next time Brendon saw that kid, he was gonna-

"I ask because I saw you taking pictures of the team," Dallon went on. "For yearbook?"

"Oh," Brendon could've sighed in relief. "Yeah, for yearbook. That's kind of why I'm here. And no, I didn't get any good pictures of you." He lied.

"Bummer," Dallon said. "You must've gotten some good ones of the team, though. You look good with a camera in your hand. Like a natural."

Brendon blinked. Did he just say he looked good? Was he flirting?

"Is it a hobby of yours?" He asked.

"No, uh, it's just for extra credit," Brendon told him, not going into much detail. He was still hung up on Dallon's compliment.

"Could've fooled me," Dallon grinned.

Brendon didn't say anything for a moment, the music in his ear seemingly drowned out by the wheels turning in his head. Dallon said he looked good with a camera in his hand. Dallon had noticed him. Even yet, Dallon had been watching him. What did this mean?

"So..." Brendon said slowly. "You were watching me take pictures, huh?" He meant it to come out teasingly, but it was more shaky and nervous sounding.

"Yeah," Dallon said, not even trying to deny it. "Like I said, you looked good."

Okay. He was definitely flirting.

"So listen," He continued. "One of the guys is throwing a party later this week. You should come and hang out. I can text you the details if you give me your number."

And now he wanted Brendon's number for 'party details'. What a smooth motherfucker.

"Uh, the party scene isn't really my thing," Brendon said, but found himself passing Dallon his phone anyway just as Dallon passed him his.

Dallon shrugged, "Mine either, but I think it'd be infinitely better if you came. Maybe we can get them to play some Kansas?" He started typing his number into Brendon's phone, adding a soccer emoji next to his name.

"Yeah, sure," Brendon mumbled, watching Dallon type. Damn, even his fingers were hella attractive. Looking at them caused Brendon's heart to race even more. He'd almost forgotten to type in his own number.

Dallon handed the phone back to Brendon, "I'll shoot you a text when I get the information. I'll send a smiley emoji so you'll definitely know it's me."

"Even though you just gave me your number?" Brendon raised him a skeptical glance. Dallon just grinned and nodded.

"That's a pretty common emoji," Brendon mused.

"You're right," Dallon hummed, scratching his chin, "How about the monkey emoji? Not too weird, but not overly common."

"Works for me," Brendon said. He finally allowed a full smile to cross his face. He couldn't help it. Dallon's carefree, confident mood was infectious.

Dallon's eyes remained on him for a moment and then he leaned back in his seat, "Do that more often," He told Brendon softly.

Brendon raised an eyebrow, "Do what?"

"Smile."

"Shit!" Brendon cursed under his breath as he fumbled and nearly dropped his camera. That was the forth time he'd done that since he started taking pictures.

The away game had started later than it was supposed to, giving Brendon a limited amount of daylight to take photos. As if that wasn't pressure enough, he had to make absolutely sure to get pictures of the other players. That was proving difficult when Dallon was running around in tight shorts, sweat dripping from his forehead. What made trying to ignore Dallon even worse was the wink the tall boy shot Brendon before running out onto the field. That had really gotten Brendon's hands shaking.

He was a sly fucker - Brendon had to give him that. He was confident in his flirting, even around so many people. So many people that could easily destroy them both from the inside out. It brought back the familiar butterflies and that made Brendon's job all the harder.

Beep beep.

Brendon looked down when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He debated not answering it, but thought it might be a nice break and calm him down. He opened his phone to find a text from Pete. He read the message, holding back an eye roll.

Pete: So have you and Dallon hooked up in the back I  of the bus yet?

Brendon set his camera down to respond.

Brendon: You're hilarious, Pete, really. Ever consider doing stand up? You'd kill the audience. Literally.

Pete: Just try and tell me I made a mistake making you go to that game. Do it, I dare you!

Brendon: That's not important. You're coming to a party with me this week. No buts.

Brendon pocketed his phone after sending the text. He wasn't worried about Pete's response at that moment. He was going to that party whether he liked it or not.

When Brendon lifted his camera to take more pictures, he noticed that Dallon was now on the bench. He watched the boy wipe his face and laugh with a few of his teammates. Brendon resisted the urge to snap a picture of that smile again.

He could feel his phone blowing up with texts from Pete and had to switch it off. Taking a deep breath, he needed to get his head in the game. He was getting too flustered, too anxious. If he didn't calm down-

He was staring. Why Brendon looked towards Dallon again, he didn't know, but the soccer star was staring at him. There was a little twinge of a grin on his face. He didn't seem to care that Brendon caught him staring.

Brendon offered the best smile back that he could muster. Inwardly panicking, he felt the desperate need to get out of there. Which is exactly what he did. He turned and found the bathroom sign, walking briskly towards it. He hastily locked himself in as his breathing picked up at a frightening rate. He collapsed, sliding his back down the door and sitting on the grimy floor. He couldn't control his heartbeat, his feelings. His mind went fuzzy and all he could do was sit in silence and gasp for air. He gripped his knees to his chest and dug his nails into his skin.

Why was he like this? Why couldn't he handle simple emotions? Why did he always get so easily overwhelmed? It was these questions that kept him up at night. These questions that made him silently cry himself to sleep. These questions that made him feel like there was something wrong with him.

This was the side of Brendon that no one knew. While he seemed all collected on the surface, drifting through life without cares, the real Brendon was a royal mess. The past two years of his life felt like a downward spiral. Ever since the incident that caused his parents to ignore him. Ever since starting high school. Ever since his old friends abandoned him. He was tired of feeling unwanted. He was tired of pushing people away who wanted a genuine connection with him.

But despite all of his negative thoughts, he knew he was slowly getting better. Being forced to join photography club seemed like torture, but it still could be a blessing in disguise. Sure, it was the reason he was balled up on a dirty bathroom floor now. But it was also the reason he met Pete, his first friend in over two years. And now Dallon, an insanely hot sports star, had taken an interest in him. That couldn't be a bad thing, right?

Brendon's breathing slowly evened out as positive thoughts started to creep back in. He relaxed slowly and leaned his head heavily against the door. He realized as he sat there that that had been his first panic attack in almost a month. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone that long without having one.

It only took a few more moments for Brendon to drag his body off the ground. He moved over to the sink, washing his now dirt covered hands and splashing himself with a little cold water. He looked up to meet his dark eyes in the mirror.

The boy staring back at him didn't look broken. Perhaps he just looked a little frayed. A little chipped at the edges. A little worn. But still, not broken.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He was Brendon fucking Urie!

He could do this... he hoped.