"Yes mum, I freaking love Jesus. Never going to love another man as much as I love Jesus... not that I'd ever love men ever because wow what? Me, William Beckett, a homosexual? Ridiculous. But yeah, Jesus is my lord and saviour 2k15."

"Yeah, she's never going to buy that." Travie had barely even looked up from the slightly questionable issue of Gossip Girl that he'd found under William's bed a few minutes ago, when he was, of course, totally listening to the dude ramble on about his strikingly important first world problems, and not, well, reading Gossip Girl like eighteen year old guys just casually did.

"Yeah, how the fuck am I supposed to do this if I can't even pull off being a straight dude for more than like ten seconds - how the hell do you do this?" He gave up, joining Travie on the bed, which really wasn't helping him practice his heterosexuality at all, but he was far more concerned with the issue of Gossip Girl Travie was reading than fucking him - not that he'd be all that opposed to the latter of the two ideas, just not now.

"I would say, just don't make any outward comments on sexuality, just make everything strictly platonic, pretend you don't have feelings at all for an evening, but then again, you do practically radiate homosexuality so, maybe there is no hope for you at all." Travie closed the issue of Gossip Girl, handing it to William with raised eyebrows. "I'm not going to ask."

"Honestly, I don't even know." William blushed like hell as he lied through his teeth and stashed it back under his bed, because he totally didn't look at the beauty tips in there, ever. "Come on, asshole, you're supposed to be the expert on being straight."

"Yeah, but I've never had to deal with the issue of pretending I'm not gay, have I?" Travie rolled his eyes, leaning his head on his friend's shoulder and letting out a complacent sigh, because William was a fucking ridiculous little homosexual man, but he was his best friend nonetheless.

"True, but who else am I supposed to go to about this? The fucking school counsellor, yeah? No. I doubt Catholic school will really appreciate that - they'll probably burn me at the stake or something."

"Maybe you're overreacting just a little there-"

"Maybe I'm not - you're straight, don't tell me what it's like to be so gay you can't even breathe when a hot guy walks into the room." William moaned, overreacting just a little, but whatever, he was having a lot of gay problems right now, and Travie was being quite the unsupporting heterosexual right now. "I wish I had a boyfriend I could make out with right now and like subdue the homosexual urges for a while, before I like turn into Louie Spence at my cousin's wedding."

"Yeah, I may be a straight boy, but even I know that there's a big difference between homosexuality and lycanthropy." Travie gave the seventeen year old a little shove: friendly and far too heterosexual for William's liking, but still not heterosexual enough.

"Not necessarily - you can get gay werewolves, come on, don't be such a homophobe-"

"Gay werewolves." Travie only stared wide eyed at his best friend as he struggled to figure out just what horrible concoction of drugs he had to be on right now.

"Yeah, I mean, that's the kind of Twilight I would read - screw Bella, I want some Jacob on Edward action." William fell onto his back, half giggling, half sobbing, as Travie stared in concern as he questioned whether he should bother the emergency services with the possible seizure that his best friend might be having.

"Can you please stop having a seizure on my bed - it's annoying." Travie sighed out, rolling his eyes at William, who promptly stopped, pouting like hell. "Okay, I'm glad you weren't actually dying because then I really would have looked like an asshole."

"You are an asshole, stop being in denial: I came out as gay, so you can come out as the world's biggest asshole. Mhmm... I can see why we're friends - I love asshole and you are an asshole."

"You know what? How about you stop being such a little prick about this and actually grow the balls to just come out to your mum and then you're not going to have to get that girl from biology to be your fake date, and you're not going to have to do her homework in return: just tell your mum and bring some guy as your date, okay?" William blinked at Travie like he'd told him to go jump off a cliff or something. "This would literally solve all of your problems."

"Yeah, there are two major flaws in your plan there, asshole." William shook his head in Travie's direction as he sat back up, leaning into his best friend like the total fucking gaylord he was. "My mum's totally going to be like 'Jesus is the only man you need in your life, why would you ever need to be fucked by a dude when Jesus is always inside you- hey, maybe I should just date Jesus- Craigslist! I'm going to make an ad for a guy called Jesus to come and be my date for the wedding, and I can be like hey, mum I love Jesus and then fucking make out with the guy-"

"Yeah, maybe dating random guys off Craigslist isn't the best idea- but that's pretty funny, I guess. Couldn't you just get some guy that would be willing to be your date for the evening who we know isn't some sort of convinced murderer to pretend his name's Jesus so you can like come out to your mum in what is the best way I've ever heard, because okay, yeah, you're an idiot, but that's so ridiculous that it's brilliant."

"But, Travie, where are you going to get a guy who'll be my date and pretend his name's Jesus for me?" William whined, leaning on his best friend like he was a fucking sofa, and really, Travie was just about used to it by now.

"People will do a lot for ten dollars." Travie shrugged, pulling out his phone and looking for the person who'd be the most likely to be drunk enough to agree to anything right now.

"Ughh... can you not get an actual gay guy that I can like date for real afterwards, because I am not appreciating my lack of love life right now-"

"Shut the hell up, I'm not your fucking matchmaker, Beckett, I'm finding you a guy who'll kiss you and pretend his name's Jesus for one night but that's it - I'm not finding you a boyfriend."

"People will do a lot for ten dollars." He grinned, pulling a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and offering it to his best friend.

-

Frank had spent an awful lot of time with Jamia recently, and consequently he'd found himself spending a lot of time following his favourite all girl punk band around, and more often that not found himself sat on some girl he barely knew's sofa as he drank their parent's beer and watched the band play.

Basically, Frank was a groupie.

A shit, homosexual groupie for a band of lesbians (minus Sarah, but when alcohol was involved things changed a little).

But whatever, Frank was happy and the beer was pretty good and at the very least this was probably the first week in his life where he hadn't been bombarded with the continuous stressful cycle of life problems that all of his friends seemed to be somehow miraculously experiencing on a day to day basis regardless of well logic and sanity, but whatever, at least he wasn't thinking about Gee as he made his way into Lindsey’s house with Jamia.

Lindsey's house was bigger, and always available for practice, but of course the only downside was in the fact that Lindsey didn't live with her parents and therefore Frank had to physically beg her for beer and pull on his best 'I care about your music and don't actually just love taking advantage of this free supply of alcohol' smile and just hope for the best, and that usually yielded inconsistent and often disappointing results.

Frank liked Jamia's house better: her parents had a lot more beer and they seemed to never even notice that it had gone missing, and then again, Jamia really knew why he was tagging along recently and didn't tend to give much of a shit as long as he was tipsy enough to keep smiling like an idiot.

And really, that was friendship at its finest.

Of course, that kind of euphoria couldn't last forever, and it seemed as if Lindsey Ballato had personally made it her one goal in life to fuck up his life and everything he was striving to achieve with this growing alcohol addiction, and no, it wasn't even that she'd denied him any alcohol, fuck, they'd never even gotten that far.

Jamia had practically dragged him inside, muttering something about sedatives that Frank probably should have paid more attention to, only for the two of them to stop dead in their tracks as they came to realise that this wasn't band practice at all, and Lindsey Ballato was a dirty fucking lying bitch with an unstoppable motherly desire to do what was right for her friends, even if it ensured that they hated her with an angsty passion for like the next two weeks at a maximum.

"What the fuck?" It had soon become awfully apparent that Lindsey hadn't even thought to let Jamia in on her plan, and Frank couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the amount of alcohol they were consuming and just what he could convince Jamia to tell him with the aid of a few drinks.

Lindsey only shrugged it off, leaving him to get up off the sofa and make eye contact with the two seventeen year olds: Frank in particular, of course.

"Gee." Frank shook his head firmly, making his way towards the door, only for Jamia to grab him by the hand and keep him grounded: communicating with Lindsey across the room somehow - damn those psychic lesbians.

"Frank- fuck, I-" And he was barely three syllables in before Frank was shaking his head firmly and glaring and wanting the beer he'd came here for, and an apology meant nothing, because this was fucked and they were fucked, and maybe for all of five minutes, Frank had thought he was okay and that he was over Gee, but it had soon become awfully clear that it really wasn't the case.

"Look, you're going to sort this shit out: you're both ruining your lives over this shit, and Gee's sorry, and he loves you, Frank, and Frank just being an angsty piece of shit who just needs to grow the fuck up and accept the fact that his boyfriend made a drunken mistake- okay, they slept together more than once, but I've spoke to Dallon, and- Jamia shut the fuck up- he's a nice guy, I promise. He means nothing, and he likes another guy, anyway-"

"Wait what?" And it appeared that Gee wasn't pulling off the apologetic ex-boyfriend act all that successfully. "My temporary emotional support boyfriend doesn't even like me?"

"Temporary emotional support boyfriend." Jamia repeated, shaking her head as she gave Frank a little shove in Gee's direction, before making her way to Lindsey's side. "Yeah, Frank's your permanent boyfriend, got that?"

Frank only shrugged, swaying a little on the spot as he glared at Jamia, because fuck, she was fucking everything up and Frank just wanted a beer. "Who does Dallon like?"

"Why the fuck does that matter?" Lindsey narrowed her eyes in Frank's direction.

"Just curious." Frank shrugged it off. "I bet it's Ryan, though: Ryan's single, Dallon's single, they're both emo trash with ex-boyfriends and sob stories. Makes sense, just saying."

"No." Gee shook his head firmly. "Spencer, definitely: those two are close as close and well Dallon thinks the fact that the guy can eat a shit ton of grapes is cute."

"Okay, point - when you love someone you think everything they do is cute, okay, well maybe not sometimes, like cheating on you, not cute, Gee." Frank bit his lip, shaking his head in Gee's direction, as Jamia and Lindsey slowed retreated into the kitchen, leaving the two together and just hoping for the best.

"So, you're saying you love me?" Gee smirked, raising his eyebrows a little.

Frank shook his head all too firmly: convincing himself more than anyone else. "No, I just want a drink. You're cute and I need to stop thinking about you and beer helps, I guess."

"Don't fucking do that." Gee snapped out a response almost immediately, catching Frank by surprise, to say the least. "Don't drink like that - it's bad and it's fucked up and, Frank- fuck... I... I... I fucked up like that, and this was before this was when we were still together and I started drinking and everything was downhill from there, and it was all drugs and drink and too much and then the things that happened when I was too intoxicated to remember them, and then I made the mistakes and everything fell apart, but the drink doesn't stop, and it's hard to admit it, but I guess, I'm an a- I'm an a- fuck, I can't say it- why, fuck- I managed to tell it to others, but just not you: I care what you think too much, I guess."

"So what's Dallon's deal?" Frank asked, biting down on his bottom lip and avoiding a direct response, keeping things awkward: for the best. "You're the sentimental type - you like the sob story and you like having your head full of someone else's shit and gossip, god, I know you do. You like secrets and mess."

"Not my secret to tell." Gee shrugged it off, finding discretion his best tactic here. 

"So, it's secret then? Pretty important then, I guess - it's usually just all about you, isn't it-"

"Frank-" Gee shook his head firmly. "You don't want me back, that's clear, but please, can we just try... as like friends?"

"Like fuck that's ever going to work." Frank rolled his eyes, shrugging away from the twenty five year old. "I either hate you or I'm desperately in love with you: it's a slap you or kiss you kind of thing."

"Then make your mind up - you've had your time, and really, come on, Frankie, if you really hated me, you'd be long gone out of this door, and you wouldn't need to drown it out with alcohol. Fucking make your mind up."

And so, everything clicked into place, and they did the obvious: Frank chose the logical path - how it was to be.

Frank Iero slapped Gee Way right across the face.

"Don't fucking tell me how I feel."

And to prove his point, Frank turned and made his way out of Lindsey's house, slamming the door behind him out of nothing but spite.

-

Ryan was, of course, just a little jealous of Joe and Patrick's friendship, and especially now that Patrick was talking, it had become blatantly obvious as to just how easily the two got along, but there never was a single doubt in Ryan's mind that Patrick valued him as a best friend, and that belief was only proven with the secret Patrick told Ryan: Joe out of the room and on the phone to Andy, who had apparently gotten lost on the way - something about Spencer falling into a bush and some old lady with a limp banana and some soggy bread.

"You're over Brendon now, aren't you?" Patrick thought it best to approach the subject with discretion, but really there was no discreet way around the blatantly obvious truth that he'd witnessed with his own eyes.

Ryan shrugged it off with an overly faked gesture of ignorance, blushing as he laughed it off, and leaving Patrick to bit down on his bottom lip as he forced himself not to make a rather questionable remark in response to Ryan's terrible lying skills. 

"Of course. I don't give a damn about him." Ryan finally thought it best to give a verbal response alongside his questionable 'I don't give a fuck' shoulder spasm that left Patrick with raised eyebrows and a lot that he couldn't quite let himself say. "Why?"

"I saw him kiss another guy the other day: pretty sure it's his new boyfriend or something, but well, I didn't go up to him and interview him on the spot but, there was definite kissing-" And really, Ryan was far too over Brendon to even let him finish his sentence, because Ryan was totally collected and totally over Brendon and totally fine being single.

"What the fuck? Sarah said he wanted me back-"

"You're talking to Sarah? You're talking to the girl he was cheating on you with?" Patrick was a little shocked, to say the least, but Ryan only shrugged it off, and for real this time.

"He cheated on her too. She's nice - you should meet her, you know. Anyway, she went and talked to Brendon about what had happened and she told me that he was going through some shit but he didn't say what, but she told me what he told her and I know- it's complicated: Brendon doesn't tell people about his problems, but this is to do with his family and his dad."

"Oh what's with his dad?" Patrick asked, wondering if he'd stepped over the line, but finding enough newfound confidence in regaining his voice to not even stop to care.

"His dad's dead, and it's complicated." Ryan let out a sigh: trying his best not to think about when they were together and Brendon had initially told him, and now how what was everything meant almost nothing at all. "So who was it that he kissed?"

"Gabe Saporta..." Patrick sighed out, biting down on his lip as he spoke: thinking of Pete as he did, because, fuck, he couldn't help it: Pete was everything and that everything would never quite fade away - by now, that was something Patrick was more than certain of. "He dated Pete for about a week or two before Pete and Mikey got together... when Pete was-"

"It's okay." Ryan forced an awkward kind of smile, grabbing Patrick's hand. "You don't have to. Look, I'll find out what the hell's going on here, don't you worry."

"I thought you said you were over him and don't care about him." Patrick raised his eyebrows a little, but Ryan only shrugged it off, once again.

"I can still hate him. Anyway, I'm doing it for Gabe's benefit, because chances are that he's going to fuck this guy over too: I'm just a fucking nice guy, Patrick." And before Patrick could respond, Joe had made his way back into the living room, pocketing his cellphone and shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'm pretty sure Spencer's drunk, and Andy's really not having fun trying to direct a grape eating manchild here, so they could be anywhere from five minutes to two hours." Joe announced, laughing a little: utterly unaware to what conversation had occurred in the few minutes he'd been on the phone to a rather regretful and mildly pissed off Andy Hurley.

"What about Dallon? Is he coming? You were going to talk to him, weren't you?" Patrick piped up, striking Ryan with confusion and an unstoppable interest in matters that really weren't his business at all.

Joe shrugged, sighing out as his gaze hit the floor. "I called him - no response, left a message. I texted him - seen, no response. Who knows what's going on with Dallon."

"He's probably with Gee - they're apparently dating now." Ryan piped up, liking to pretend that he was totally involved in this conversation. "What were you going to talk to him about?"

"Uhh..." Joe blushed a little, looking at Patrick, who was just as useless as to whether he should tell Ryan or not.

"It's a secret, Ryan." Patrick added, seeing how things went from then on.

"I can keep secrets." Ryan clearly didn't quite get their point, but Joe had given in by now, and it was probably something to do with the draining of hope that the mental image of Spencer Smith falling into a bush brought him.

"Dallon's got anorexia."

"Bulimia." Patrick corrected him within seconds, causing Ryan to widen his eyes in disbelief. "Dallon's bulimic."

"Oh..." He trailed off: not quite sure what to make of that - not really knowing the guy at all.

"I suspected that something was up, but Patrick's like magic, and he just read it off him, I guess-" Joe didn't quite get time to finish his sentence as the doorbell rang, leaving him to roll his eyes and rush to open in: it was Spencer and Andy, of course - it wasn't like they had any other friends, well besides the other seven million gay emos in this town, but whatever.

"Andy says I can't be Jesus!" Spencer exclaimed, flopping onto the sofa and curling up into a ball: he was drunk, to say the least.

"Uhh... what?" Joe wasn't quite sure as to what he was supposed to make of that at all.

"I'm really not sure." Andy didn't particularly add much clarity to the situation, leaving all four pairs of eyes to fall upon Spencer, and expecting some kind of logical explanation, but really, it was more likely for milk to suddenly start flowing from Ryan's asshole.

"Yeah, well Travie wants me to be Jesus and I was like Andy can I be Jesus? And Andy was like no. And I cried so hard I fell into a bush and now he's going to get Gabe Saporta to do it, and I don't even like Gabe: he doesn't deserve to be Jesus."

And it soon became apparent that that was all the explanation they were getting.

"Travie called him at some point, asking him to pretend to be Jesus for ten dollars - I thought it best that he didn't do it." Andy added, turning to Joe, who was still utterly unconvinced by the whole ordeal.

"Hell, I'd be Jesus for ten dollars - I don't even know Travie, but tell him I'll be Jesus if he wants." Ryan offered, laughing it off, and pretending that he hadn't heard Gabe Saporta's name mentioned there.

"No!" Spencer exclaimed. "I'm Jesus."

 -

"He hates me, okay, get over it." Gee's head was buried in his hands, his knees brought up to his chest as he curled up on the sofa: taking full advantage of Bert's absence - unexplained, but Gee really didn't care all that much right now - by inviting over emotional support in the form of Dallon and Mikey. Ray had tagged along with Mikey too, and really, that was definitely something that Gee would have been asking at least a billion questions about if he wasn't currently crying.

"Look, he's just Frank - he's a stubborn piece of shit, and okay, yeah, you did cheat on him..." Mikey trailed off, catching Dallon's gaze as he did so, and well, it was kind of awkward, to say the least. "But, he does love you, and he'll come around soon enough."

"Soon enough is just not good enough - fuck it, come on, just tell it to me straight: he hates me, doesn't he?"

"He doesn't." Dallon insisted, sitting down beside the twenty five year old and passing him the most pathetic smile anyone had ever seen, but whatever, fuck it, unlike Gee, Dallon was at least actually trying. "Get Jamia to talk to him: she's like... I don't know... magic... he just trusts her... it's kind of weird but if you get Jamia on your side then it's fucking easy, okay?"

"Yeah, but Jamia really secretly hates me and if Lindsey didn't exist then she probably would have murdered me and burned my body by now, and once for every time I've ever slightly upset Frank." Gee wasn't wrong, but really, it wasn't anything personal, it was just the fact that Jamia Nestor's tolerance towards the human race in general was very low indeed.

"Jamia hates everyone: get over it." Mikey rolled his eyes at his brother, grabbing Gee's hand and pulling him up onto his feet. "Look, she hates you, she hates me, she hates Dallon, and she probably hates Ray despite the fact that I don't think they've ever even had a conversation."

"She glared at me once." Ray piped up: not at all sure as to what the hell he was doing here - it was either something to do with Mikey being over attached to his new boyfriend or something about Ray drifting to the background recently, and by him being here, he was somehow more involved the soap opera esque dramas that occurred in his friends' life on an almost daily basis.

Somehow, Ray had pretty much avoided this fucked up drama thing - for the most part anyway, because really, the most shit he'd ever really been involved with was dating Mikey, and then again, that was more to do with Mikey than him, because well, they were only keeping it a secret because Mikey still felt guilty about Pete, and he goddamn knew that Patrick would slap him across the face if he ever found out that he'd moved on or even just coped with loss like a stable human being.

But whatever, Ray was there, and that was his contribution to Gee's cripplingly traumatic first world problems, and that was that - it wasn't exactly helpful, but he had tried, and that was what counted.

"Just get Lindsey to talk to Jamia." Mikey suggested, pulling on a smile, and just hoping that Gerard would follow suit and that he wouldn't have to provide emotional support for his asshole of a brother every five minutes for the rest of his life, because that was really not something that Mikey was prepared to do.

"Yeah, well, Lindsey organised this whole thing with Frank, and that fucked up - look, it's clear, he doesn't care about me. Get over it."

"I'm sorry, but I should get over it? You're the one crying about it - if you ready to just leave it at him hating you then that's that: he hates you, and you can go get yourself a new boyfriend - look here's one here." Mikey gestured to Dallon: overdoing it a little, well perhaps more than a little, and Ray couldn't help but cringe as his boyfriend spoke, and then as Gee glared at his brother like he would not hesitate to punch him at all.

"Go fuck yourself, Mikey. I swear to God, you can never just be nice to me, can you? You always have to fuck everything up don't you?" Gee had lost it completely, but at the very least, he'd refrained from punching his brother... yet.

"Me?" Mikey fucking laughed that off: his eyes widening in disbelief. "I'm not the one who cheated on my boyfriend, am I?"

"You cheated on Alicia, though, didn't you?" And Gee was taking this all too far, because he was just centimetres away from speaking about Pete, and that was a million miles too far, and with that, it'd be Mikey punching him first.

"Yeah, and you cheated on that boyfriend you had in high school." Mikey's comeback was mediocre at best, but whatever, he tried. 

"I was seventeen!"

"I am seventeen." Mikey snapped at his brother, bringing him down to reality all too quickly.

"Fuck. God, I- I-... he's only seventeen and I forget this, I really fucking do... it's different for him, isn't it?"

Mikey met his overdue realisation with nothing but spite. "Yeah. It is. Not everything's about you, Gee, and I'm sorry, but one day you're going to have to realise that." And with that Mikey stormed off: slamming the front door behind him, leaving Ray to give an apologetic little shrug as he turned back to Gee and Dallon.

"I'm sorry... he's... uhh... being weird- I... I'll talk to Frank for you." Ray stumbled over his words: feeling more than just a little awkward, and far more responsible for Mikey's actions than he should ever be.

"Thanks, Ray." Gee smiled at him, and he fucking smiled for real. "You're good for him, you know."

"What?" Ray almost choked and died at that, because, well, he was fucked. Gee only smiled in response, leaving Dallon wide eyed and just a little confused, because he really had not picked up on that, and he really hadn't expected it either, to say the least. "How did you-"

"He's my brother: I know him." Gee shrugged it off all too casually. "Go on, go after him before he does something fucking stupid, okay: make sure he's alright."

"And are you alright?" Ray asked, raising his eyebrows a little.

"I'll be alright, I guess." Gee shrugged it off, gesturing for Ray to leave, and eventually he did, leaving Dallon and Gee alone for the first time in a while, and really, Dallon fucking wanted to kiss Gee more than ever, but goddamn, all this talk about Frank somehow told him that maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

"You're not alright." Dallon told Gee what he already knew, and for nothing more than the sake of making awkward conversation to waste away time.

"Yeah... tell me something I don't know." Gee and Dallon sat down on the sofa: the older's head ending up resting on Dallon's shoulder, and the two stayed like that in silence for entirely too long, because like that, through gritted teeth and held breath, they could say they were okay.

-

"I make a good Jesus, don't you think?" Gabe grinned across the room at Brendon Urie, who was just a little confused by the whole ordeal, which may or may not have been down to the fact that he was far more occupied with his cellphone than anything Gabe had actually been saying for the past ten minutes.

"Uhmm..." Brendon's eyes widened a little in response: not quite sure as to what he was supposed to make of that at all.

"I'm going to dress up as Jesus for this kid at his cousin's wedding." Gabe replied all too fucking nonchalantly.

"Uhh... why?"

"Well, Travie McCoy's going to pay me like ten dollars for it so fuck it why not?" He shrugged it off, texting Travie back with a 'yes I will be the best jesus you have ever known'.

"Retaining your dignity, perhaps?" Brendon asked, shrugging it off as Gabe just fucking laughed at that.

"Dignity? What the fuck are you talking about, Urie?" Gabe shook his head rather violently. "Fuck dignity: dignity doesn't make me ten bucks richer, does it?"

"Fair point." Brendon shrugged, sitting up properly and pocketing his cellphone. "So, wait... by kid do you actually mean like an eight year old or someone four days younger and just a little short than you?"

"The second one. Kind of handy as well, seeing as I'm pretty much supposed to make out with him- like, fuck, Bren, this is great I get paid ten dollars to make out with some dude!" Of course, Brendon could see many issues with this, but he thought it better to conserve his energy and not bother to mention them.

"Does this have any kind of explanation: logical or not, whatsoever?" Brendon thought it best to at least try asking, not that he expected much in the first place, but whatever, he had time to kill and it gave him something to laugh at, at the very least.

"Well, picture this kid- you kind of don't have to him: him and Travie are like coming over in five minutes by the way - anyway, his name is William fucking Beckett and he is gay - gay as hell. Poor William's mum is stupid enough to think he's straight, and also just a tiny little bit homophobic, which is kind of awkward, but whatever, it's not like her son's a serial killer - get the fuck over it. Anyway, William has a cousin- I don't fucking know this cousin's name, let's call them fucking Janet okay, Janet's getting married and Mrs Beckett doesn't want her emo turdstain of a son to embarrass her by being forever alone at Janet's wedding, so she's like hey look here is girl that lives down the road who you also hate, but I don't care, go with her. Poor William is like no thanks mum, I like cock, but he has a great difficulty conveying said fact to his mother, and therefore enlists the help of Travie, his best friend, who rings up the gayest people he knows to try and convince them to help William for ten dollars, and I'm the first person to say yes."

"How many pills did you fucking take?" Brendon asked, eyes widening a little, but laughing it off eventually. "But seriously, how the fuck are you relevant to some kid coming out to his mum?"

"Oh, so yeah, I'm Jesus, remember? And he goes 'hey, mum, I love Jesus', and then I walk in and he's like 'this is my boyfriend Jesus' and then we make out.. in front of his mum- maybe just kiss... maybe just... hell, I'll figure that out when he comes over and I meet him-"

"Meet him? You mean you don't even know this guy-" Brendon exclaimed, only for the doorbell to cut him off and leaving him staring wide eyed as Gabe made his way to the front door to let them in.

"Hey, so this is Will." Travie announced as the three made their way back into the living room, leaving Brendon to fucking stare at William Beckett, because okay, Gabe wasn’t wrong about the fact that this guy practically radiated homosexuality.

"Hey." He blushed a little, smiling up at Gabe, and well, looking just a little short of breath, which was suspiciously homosexual, to say the least.

"Hey. I'm Gabe." Gabe returned the smile, turning back to Brendon. "This is Brendon, he's my friend, and we like kissed a few times the other day but it's totally whatever because he's too emotionally attached to his ex-boyfriend to date me right now, so I'm like one hundred percent single."

Brendon glared up at Gabe. "You're not being very discreet, are you?" It was just a little harsh, but for that, Brendon reckoned he deserved it.

Travie fucking lost with laughter at that, leaving William and Gabe to blush until their cheeks got so flushed and hot that they melted the rest of the features off their faces, which would be problematic, because then they couldn't kiss in front of William's mum, and Gabe couldn't get ten dollars.

"So when's the wedding?" Brendon asked, not exactly making the best choice of words, judging by the widened eyes and tomato faces in front of him. "Your cousin's wedding, but- hey, I'm pretty sure you two could get married there if you really wanted to as well."

"Shut the fuck up, Bren, why would we do that?" Gabe shook his head firmly at Brendon: totally failing at just playing this off, but whatever, Brendon gave him an A for effort at the very least, and probably a gold star as well.

"It's in like a week." William finally answered, still more than just a little flustered, and mainly due to the fact that he was really struggling to breathe right now, and maybe, just maybe, that had a lot more to do with Gabe Saporta than he'd ever care to admit.

"Really? You only just met-" Travie joined in on the awkward marriage jokes, gaining an absolute fucking death glare from William in response.

"Seriously though, can I be your best man?" Brendon asked, laughing his fucking head off at the two of them, and really, Gabe was just about four seconds away from slapping him right across the face.

"You can go the fuck to hell-" 

Gabe retort was soon cut off as Brendon's ringtone went off, causing the seventeen year old to pull out his cellphone and practically have a heart attack as he read the contact name displayed on screen.

Ryan.

-

hey guys:))) look more gay emos this is getting out of hand i need to stop i had to write down all the characters names so i wouldnt forget whos actually in this story the other day, and not including random people like frank's mum who are like mentioned one, we have 22 fucking characters lmao fuck my life. vote and comment and maybe one day i'll take myself seriously lol no. i love you all lots though for real you put up with my shit and omg i am an asshole:')<3

fun fact: this fic is now longer than summertime and the longest thing i've written (summertime is 171k this is 175k) literally fuck my life