Pride.

To be especially proud of a particular quality or skill.

Artist: @indistinguishable on Instagram.

Plot: Brendon is perfect. Ryan isn't. Simple math. Perfect boys don't like flawed ones. Right?

::

Brendon Urie does NOT like Ryan Ross.

Brendon doesn't like or love anyone, period. And if he did love, it would be someone... well, someone worthy. Because quite frankly, Brendon is perfect. Ryan? Not so much.

It's not being snobby if it's true.

It's a simple fact. The sky is blue. One plus One is Two. Brendon Boyd Urie is perfect. George Ryan Ross is flawed. See? It's elementary.

It's not just looks, either. To be fair, Ryan is pretty. In a weird, feminine way. He has nice eyes, and a delicate jaw, and a little button nose. His hair is wavy, overgrown, and he could be mistaken for a girl, really, except his body is MALE. Tall and flat, with protruding hip and collar bones, he doesn't have the feminine curves required to make him truly girlish. Brendon is more, well, classically pretty. Smoldering eyes and full lips, he knows that girls and boys all over school fucking cream their pants looking at him. And he ADORES it.

But as he was saying (or, well, thinking) it isn't just looks. Brendon is a soccer player with designer clothes, a hefty trust fund, tons of friends, and people who practically drape themselves over him. Anything he wants: drugs, sex, money, scholarships, you name it, are at his fingertips. He is the most popular boy in his school. He can be anything he wants when he gets older: a doctor with three doting children and a gorgeous housewife, a bachelor who oozes charisma and money, or even a professional athlete. Ryan? He's a pathetic little emo kid who posts grainy webcam photos to MySpace and listens solely to My Chemical Romance and Nirvana. He scribbles EVERYTHING in his stupid little notebook, dresses like a slut, and generally shuns everyone. Brendon would say that he's a pathetic virgin, but he knows better. Boys like that? They're whores. He bets that Ryan practically salivates at the sight of a cock, will sink right down to his knees.

Brendon can almost hear the soft moans, the mewling noises Ryan would make. He would look up at Brendon with wide, worshipful eyes, and--

"Urie!"

Suddenly, Brendon is very, very aware of his erect cock, which is straining against his jeans. His teacher, Mrs. Daniels, is staring at him. "I would think you would want to pay attention, considering you're failing this class, yes?" She says icily. Brendon attempts to flash her a charming smile. Her scowl only deepens, and Brendon wants to let out a frustrated shriek. She HAS to be the only person he has failed to charm.

Well, her and one other person.

"I was hoping that your tutoring sessions with Mr. Ross would improve your focus in class, but apparently not." She continues, crossing her arms.

Ah, yes.

Because in addition to being an emo whore, Ryan is Brendon's tutor.

Brendon's tutor, who he TOTALLY isn't in love with.

The bell rings, and he stands, with the rest of the class. It's a reflex, honestly, and they all wince as Mrs. Daniels glares at them. "I dismiss you. Not the bell." She says tersely. The class gives her blank stares. It's the last period of the day. She's crazy if she thinks she's going to have a reactive group of students. This isn't an AP class and it isn't before Lunch. She sighs, waving her hand. "Alright, go." She mumbles defeatedly. The kids scatter, and Brendon awkwardly hobbles out, books in front of his pants, concealing his erection.

Kids slap Brendon on the back as he struts down the hall, and girls and guys alike shyly wave. Brendon sighs happily. Ah, Friday afternoon. Two and a half days of blissful freedom! The world is his! He can do whatever, no school, no--

"Ahem." Someone says, and Brendon turns to see a boy wide honey colored eyes and a dull expression.

Ugh.

"Are you planning to get to the library anytime soon? I might not be Mr. Popular, but I do have plans for tonight that don't involve you." He says, and Brendon sighs. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Ross. I'm coming right now."

Ryan gives Brendon a sarcastic smile. "Fabulous. We can go together." He murmurs, and Brendon swallows as Ryan tugs him forward. His fingers are long and slender, clutching Brendon's wrist like a vice, with a delicious sort of pressure. He swallows, letting Ryan tug him along.

When they reach the library, Ryan pulls out his laptop and sets all his books down on a table in the back, cursing as he drops a pencil on the floor. Brendon doesn't watch the swell of his ass as he bends down to pick it up, doesn't stare at the bare strip of skin between his too-small tee and jeans. He doesn't stare at his hipbones, frighteningly pointy, and sloping downwards, promising... more.

"You're staring." Ryan says. Brendon jumps, looking up and locking eyes with his partner, who is smirking.

"I'm not. Why would I stare at you?" Brendon asks, curling his lip. Ryan just shrugs, shoulders slumping slightly. "I dunno. But you were."

Brendon smiles at his downcast expression. Huh. So Ryan has a crush on him. Maybe not even a crush. A longing. For his body? Popularity? Love? Brendon doesn't know, but he does know that a little flirtation never hurt anybody.

*Brendon teases and leads him on, but actually begins to have feelings. finally, they kiss and brendon admits he actually likes ry*