Part Seven

The next day Pete wouldn't stop bugging Brendon about where he and Dallon disappeared to at the party. He questioned him on the ride home, the next morning over text, when he first arrived to school. Brendon was thankful he didn't have to see Pete until lunch.

He wasn't sure how much he wanted to divulge to his overeager friend. Part of him wanted that night to be sacred, something just between himself and Dallon. Even if it was something as simple as a blowjob set in one of the most lavish places he'd ever been. It still felt like more - like a connection he had been missing out on. How many other connections had he missed after having shut the world out for over two years? That wasn't something to think about now.

Dallon was what was important and he certainly didn't want to scare the tall athlete off. No, Brendon thought he'd simply tell Pete that Dallon gave him a house tour and nothing more.

And so at lunch, that's what he did.

"Oh come on," Pete said, a tad too loudly as the two sat down with their trays of mystery meat mush. "You toured more than just the house."

Brendon shushed him harshly, "I did not! Seriously, shut up about it before I cram this garbage in your mouth." He said, eyeing a spoonful of his 'food'.

Pete rolled his eyes and groaned overdramatically, "Fine, don't tell me how you two fucked on Spencer's parent's bed. I don't need to know."

"You're sick, Wentz," Brendon proclaimed, forcing down a bite of his lunch.

"Why is Pete sick?"

Brendon looked up at the new voice that had approached them. Patrick Stump stood in front of their table, tray in head. He was dressed in a nice button down shirt and a pair of tan khakis. He wore a pair of black rimmed glasses and overall appeared more like he was working in a tech support office rather than a student in high school. But despite his nerdy looks, Brendon thought he was a nice guy. He'd started sitting with Pete and Patrick at lunch and was able to get to know the kid more. It was nice.

"He was making comments about how the lunch today looked like roadkill," Brendon said with a shrug. He liked Patrick, but they weren't on a secret swapping level of friendship.

Patrick set his tray down by Pete and slid in beside him. Brendon noted how Pete tensed up ever so slightly at the close proximity.

"He's not wrong," Patrick snorted. "It's like ground up dead rats."

Brendon made a face and immediately pushed his tray away, "Okay, now you're both sick."

Patrick chuckled a bit and Pete gave a slight smile. It was a little disarming to see Pete act so shy, but the kid had a head over heels crush. Brendon understood how the butterflies could completely flip your world upside down. And Pete was going through the thick of it.

"Did you do your math homework, Brendon?" Patrick asked casually.

"Yeah, actually, but do you mind checking it? I had a little problem with three and five," Brendon said, reaching down to fish out his homework from his backpack. Brendon had been a little surprised with himself at how much he started caring about his grades. After the threat of possibly not passing came forth, he found doing his homework imperative. And he even thought he was starting to get into a good rhythm with it. It helped that he could go over and work on stuff at Pete's house and have Patrick give him advice on certain subjects. He was starting to feel not so bad about it.

Patrick took his worksheet and hummed as he looked it over. Brendon munched on a granola bar he found in his bag, the three sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment.

That was until Brendon felt a presence behind him that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Hey, Urie," Came the unpleasant voice of Ryan.

Brendon turned around to glare at him, "What do you want, Ross?"

"Saw you at Spencer's party last night," Ryan said. "Looked like you had fun."

Brendon's heart nearly stopped. Ryan told him he hadn't been invited. Brendon's mind immediately started screaming a million questions at once. Was he really there? What had he seen? Did he know about what he and Dallon did?

Brendon forced himself to stay externally calm. He turned away from Ryan back towards Pete and Patrick, who both looked pale, and prayed that if he ignored the bully, he'd just go away, "Whatever, Ross. Go stalk someone else."

Ryan moved around the table so Brendon couldn't avoid his gaze. His usual friends stood nearby.

"It looked like you had so much fun, in fact..." He began, picking up Brendon's open carton of milk from his tray. "That you got a little wet."

Brendon's body flitched forward as the cold milk hit the crotch of his pants. It soaked through immediately, making an uncomfortable situation for Brendon. He leapt up, pushing his chair back with a loud scrap across the floor.

"What the fuck!?" He cried at Ryan. A few heads turned towards the commotion, but Brendon wasn't focused on them. He was trying hard to restrain himself from punching Ryan in the face.

Pete was on his feet as well, but looked more frightened than angry. Patrick looked both shocked and concerned.

"Oh, sorry, is that not how Dallon did it?" Ryan said, a little quieter so only Brendon could hear.

"I'm going to fucking break your face, Ross!" Brendon yelled, too blinded by rage to fully process what Ryan had said. He lunged at Ryan, only to be quickly grabbed around the arms by Pete. Despite being shorter, he held Brendon back with surprising strength.

"B, chill!" He urged desperately.

Ryan simply laughed in Brendon's face and turned, walking his pompous ass out the cafeteria door. Brendon's emotions continued to get the better of him, however. When Pete's grip loosened, he easily pushed his friend away and made a run for the door. Out in the hall, Ryan had barely had time to turn around when Brendon tackled him.

He only threw a few aimless punches at the dark eyed boy before being quickly lifted off the ground by Ryan's friends. A small group of students from the cafeteria had entered the hall to crowd around and watch the brawl. Brendon had managed to turn and punch one of Ryan's friends in the face, causing him to stumble backwards. He made an attack at Ryan again as he got out of the boy's grip, but Ryan was faster and easily dodged Brendon's haphazard punches. Instead, Ryan swung his fist, catching Brendon in his unprotected stomach. Brendon lurched, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. Ryan took the opportunity to grab Brendon by the shoulders and knee him in the exact same spot.

Brendon crumbled, doubling over onto the floor. That's when the feet started kicking at him. His head and back exploded with pain and he meekly attempted to protect himself. But things were quickly starting to get fuzzy and his vision was tunneling in. He didn't know if it was from the pain or the suffocating feeling of being crowded, but he knew it was over for him.

At least, that's what he had thought. Until the kicking suddenly stopped and audible gasps could be heard from the mass of students. Brendon managed to look up and refocus his eyes enough to see a familiar face. It was none other than the enigma himself, Josh Dun.

Even while in searing pain, Brendon couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at the scene unfolding in front of him.

The pink-haired boy had single-handedly grabbed both of Ryan's friends by their hair and threw them to the ground. He stepped on one of their hands, causing a sickening crunch to be heard through the hall, followed by a scream of agony. The other boy moved to stand, aiming to attack Josh, but Josh quickly grabbed him by the arm. He twisted it at a painful angle, causing the boy's actions to falter. The bully was sent flying into the nearby staircase, his back hitting landing on it hard. Lastly was Ryan. He didn't look nearly as brave as he once did when Josh approached him. With flaring nostrils, he grabbed Ryan by the front of his shirt and rammed him into the wall. Ryan's head hit the hard surface and he cried out.

"You'll leave him alone," Josh said, his voice shaking from anger, yet threateningly calm. It wasn't an overly gruff voice, but rather soft. It was the first time Brendon had ever heard him speak. "Or I'm going to make your life a living hell. Got it?"

Ryan could only nod, his face whiter than a sheet. Josh shoved him harshly into the wall once more before releasing him. And as if nothing happened, Josh picked up his discarded bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked off.

Ryan barely glanced at Brendon still on the ground, before running like a coward. That was when the teachers showed up. And things once again went blurry for Brendon.

After Miss Knipe got word of what happened, she allowed the boys to skip out on photography club that Friday afternoon. Brendon spent most of the rest of his day laid up in the principal's office with the school nurse. The cut on his arm had reopened from being kicked and he had a little bit of a concussion, according to her. He'd begged the office not to call his parents, knowing they wouldn't be any help to his situation, and reluctantly they agreed to let him remain at school.

It was uncomfortable to say the least. Even being half with it, Brendon could still feel Principal Smucker's eyes on him every time he passed by. They weren't eyes of sympathy or even anger. They were cold, judgmental eyes and Brendon felt just as terrified by those eyes as he had by Ryan's unrelenting blows.

It felt like an eternity before he was released from school. Pete had promptly met him in the office, promising the nurse he would get Brendon home safely. Brendon had been dreading the walk home, knowing neither he nor Pete had a car to take. But anything was better than staying in Smucker's presence.

"Bro," Pete said as he walked with Brendon. He kept an arm slung around his shoulders, holding half of Brendon's weight. Brendon had a noticeable limp caused by the pain in his back. He could feel the bruises that had formed there and on his ribs. "You look like you need the ER."

"No," Brendon said sharply. "My parents... my parents can't know about this. They'll be pissed." Brendon knew his school fight would only stir things up in his household. The last thing he needed was another glass bottle to the arm.

"I'm serious," Pete said. "And you know I hate being serious. Which is why I called for reinforcements."

Brendon was about to ask what that meant when instead, he saw. They'd reached the school parking lot. Standing a little ways away was Dallon, car keys in hand, and a worried expression on his face.

"Pete!" Brendon growled at him. The last thing he wanted was for Dallon to see him looking like a pathetic, beaten slab of meat.

"You can barely walk, B, we needed wheels!" Pete defended himself. "And, for the record, I didn't go to him. He heard what happened and came to me."

Brendon blinked. Dallon went to Pete? Had he really caused some panic to the tall boy?

"Jesus," Dallon breathed as he approached them. "Bren..."

Brendon forced himself to meet Dallon's eyes with a little wince. The look in his eyes was similar to what Brendon had seen when his arm started bleeding in front of Dallon. When he had been running around the bathroom to patch Brendon up. But the look went deeper this time. He looked sad almost, as if Dallon was feeling useless and was conveying that feeling without even realizing it.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Brendon said, trying to straighten himself up and brush off his worried look. Because he didn't like that look in Dallon's eyes. He liked the cocky, witty, bright Dallon. Both Dallon and Pete's worry only made him feel guilty.

"Okay, tough guy," Dallon said, unbelieving. "Let's get you in the car."

Pete and Dallon helped Brendon get into the front seat of the car. Sitting was painful. Breathing was painful. Not that Brendon was about to admit it to them.

Pete slid into the backseat, Dallon behind the wheel. He looked Brendon over a moment, not saying a whole lot.

"Dal, I'm okay," Brendon affirmed. "Wasn't my first fight and probably won't be my last."

"You should've told me Ross was messing with you," Dallon said. "I would've done something about it."

Brendon was frustrated. He didn't want to have to tell anyone anything. He didn't want to have these problems and he didn't want to seem so fragile and weak. What he wanted was for Dallon to put his sad puppy dog eyes on the road and drive.

"Can we just go?" Brendon huffed a bit.

Dallon sighed in response and started the car, "Where am I going?"

"The ER!" Pete piped up.

"No!" Brendon cried. "The nurse said I'd be fine if I just took it easy, drink water, all that shit. I don't need a fucking ER."

"Fine," Dallon said. "What's your address?"

Brendon looked at him as if forgetting how to form a sentence. Dallon didn't know where he lived. It somewhat put into perspective just how little they actually knew about each other.

"I-I'm not going home," Brendon finally muttered out.

Dallon sighed again, "Fine." He looked at Pete in the rear view mirror. "What's your address?"

"Twenty-one Fallout Way," Pete told him slowly. He eyed Brendon still, clearly being overdramatic.

Brendon just huffed again. He folded his arms and sunk down in the seat like a child whose parents just took away their tv privileges. He tried to ignore Dallon's glances on the uncomfortably silent drive. Brendon didn't care if he was acting like a brat. He was upset and embarrassed. And all because of the stupid, beautiful boy next to him. Why did he always have to feel so overwhelmed by his feelings like this?

When they pulled into Pete's driveway, Pete was quick to get out and help Brendon. To Brendon's surprise, Dallon had turned off the car to get out as well. Brendon couldn't protest as Pete started half-carrying through the garage and inside. Brendon knew that Pete's parents were still at work so no one was home. Pete easily moved him to lay on the couch in the den. Dallon stood back a bit, glancing around the house.

"I'll get you a soda and some ice," Pete said, adopting a mother hen role. Brendon just nodded, not really paying attention to him. When Pete left the room, Dallon took a few steps forward.

Brendon wanted to look away from him and continue to brood, but his eyes were firmly glued to the boy. Why did he always have to look some damn good? Even in casual jeans and a quarter zip.

Dallon's wandering eyes finally fell back on Brendon. They both watched each other for a moment before Dallon spoke, "You know..." he came closer to sit on the edge of the couch. "You're cute when you're being a stubborn pain in the ass."

Brendon couldn't help the small grin on his face, "You say that too often."

"What? That you're cute?" Dallon shrugged. "Well, I can't lie. Gotta speak the truth."

Brendon blushed, both hating and loving how easily Dallon could flip his mood. He sheepishly poked Dallon with his foot, prompting Dallon to immediately pull the foot into his lap and start taking off his shoe. He did the same to the other.

"But really," He began. "What happened? I heard it was you, Ross, and a few other guys. Someone said he was messing with you at lunch?"

Brendon's cheeks were hot with both residual rage and embarrassment, "He dumped milk on my pants."

Dallon didn't say anything, his nostrils flaring a bit as he breathed in. Brendon noticed he was mindlessly rubbing his hands over Brendon's feet and calves, massaging them. Brendon almost could have smiled at the little motion.

"Why?" Dallon asked.

Brendon shrugged, "I don't know. Cause he's an ass?"

Brendon knew he couldn't tell Dallon about what Ryan had said. As much as he wanted to confide in Dallon or even warm him, he was scared of what Dallon might do. He could cut ties with Brendon completely in fear of being outed. And Brendon wouldn't blame him, but... whatever had been ignited between them was too important. It was more important than his secrets. It scared Brendon just how much he felt like he needed Dallon, even with knowing him as little as he did.

"So he came up to you and poured milk on you just to be an ass?" Dallon questioned. His tone said he wasn't buying it. Luckily for Brendon, Pete reentered the room in that moment, baring a Coca Cola and a frozen bag of peas.

"We didn't have any ice packs," He told Brendon, promptly setting the bag on his head. Brendon gasped at the sudden coldness and pulled it away, shooting a glare at Pete.

"What? You're supposed to put ice on it!" Pete said. "Listen to your nurse!"

Brendon rolled his eyes and then looked at Dallon as he suddenly stood.

"I should go," Dallon said. "Looks like your nurse has this under control."

Pete grinned and saluted Dallon. Brendon couldn't help but already miss Dallon's presence at his feet.

"And you," The tall boy suddenly pointed a finger at Brendon. "Rest up. You're not allowed to have a concussion on our date tomorrow."

A rush of heat rushed through Brendon and he desperately avoided the look he knew Pete was giving him. He watched Dallon smirk and head for the door, unable to even udder a goodbye in fear he'd combust.

"Okay, mister pants on fire," Pete cried as soon as he heard the front door close. He leaned in close to Brendon, and he knew he couldn't escape this conversation now. "Spill."