Brendon sits in Music, beginning to feel that he's got nothing left to live for.

He's tried to talk to his mom about Rodney, but she just says that it's not a topic she wants to discuss with him. He knows that if Rodney ever gets him alone, again, he's going to end up hurt. He's unpopular and beaten up at school. The boy he's in love with will probably never talk to him again.

"Now, then," Mrs. Harris says, standing up and glaring at the class. Brendon sighs, heavily. He's in no mood to deal with her and her snide comments. "I want you all to be able to perform your projects in tomorrow's class, and so you can get into your pairings now to do any fine tuning."

Brendon's heart plummets. He'd completely forgotten about the impending deadline of the project. He and Ryan haven't gotten anywhere with it - they've established that Brendon can sing, and that Ryan can play guitar and write lyrics, but beyond that, they'll be stuck when tomorrow comes. He's not sure, either, that he'll be able to talk to him in class without doing something stupid, like admitting he's in love.

Around him, the class begins to move, quickly settling into their pairings. He stands up, with a heavy sigh, and lets Jon take his seat. Jon gives him a supportive, slightly sad smile, which Brendon returns. He turns to look at the back of the class, nervously biting his bottom lip, to find Ryan watching him. The boy inclines his head a little, and gestures to the empty desk by his side.

Brendon hesitates only for a moment, before going over to the seat, and slowly sitting down in it.

Ryan's gaze moves over the cut on Brendon's cheek, and then to the nasty bruise on the side of his jaw. He swallows, hard, and looks down at his desk. Brendon rubs at his jaw, self-consciously, and sighs. "Right. Um. Our music project. Have you written any lyrics?"

Ryan nods, avoiding his eye. He picks up the journal that lays on his desk, flicks to a page, and hands it to Brendon. The fact that their eyes don't meet and their hands don't brush hurts Brendon more than he ever thought it could. He tries to ignore the sting, however, and just looks down at the page.

As Brendon reads the lyrics, he can feel the pain swelling up inside of him, more and more. They seem long enough for a full-length song, and they're amazing, but they just seem so damn personal and upsetting. He guesses that, once again, it's about Ryan's family, but he's not about to say so.

"Ryan," he says, tentatively, and Ryan meets his eye, and God, he's still beautiful. "Ryan, are you --"

"I need to talk to you," Ryan interrupts, suddenly, urgently. He reaches out and takes Brendon's hand, painfully hard, and stands up, pulling Brendon to his feet with him. "Come on. Now. We need to get somewhere private."

Brendon doesn't resist. He doesn't know if it's even physically possible for him to, because Ryan's fingers are entwined with his, and he's tugging Brendon out of the classroom, completely ignoring Mrs. Harris's startled questions. Ryan drags him through the corridor by the hand, and then straight into the bathroom, bringing bad memories of flushing toilets back to Brendon.

He soon forgets them, however, as Ryan slams him, fairly hard, into the wall. He stares at the boy, rather alarmed, and actually a bit afraid. He's been hurt so much these past couple of days, and he knows that if Ryan does anything violent to him, he might actually hurt him back.

"Who did that to you?" Ryan asks, loudly, gesturing to Brendon's jaw.

"Um. Timothy, actually."

Ryan swears, loudly, and actually grabs his own hair in frustration. He kicks the porcelain stand of a sink, and looks just about ready to smash everything up. "For fuck's sake. This is all my fault."

"Your fault?" Brendon asks, raising his eyebrows. "How is it?"

"I'm the one who had to go and fucking stab him, thinking it'd scare him off," Ryan replies, bitterly. "Now what's happening? He's going to end up killing you or something, the rate he's going."

"It's not that bad," Brendon mumbles, but he can't help but feel the slightest bit hopeful at Ryan's anger at his pain. "He's just a bit of an idiot."

"Don't talk like that," Ryan snaps, angrily.

"Don't talk to me like that," Brendon replies, sharply. He's sick of this bullshit. He's sick of people talking to him like they're better than him, and acting as if they know what's best for him, or they know him better than himself, and -- oh fuck, Ryan's lips are on his.

The kiss is hard and painful, but it feels better that way, and Brendon fists his hands into Ryan's hair, as Ryan's hands find his hips with firm, shaking fingers. They break apart, to breath, and then Ryan's mouth is attacking his again, passionate and hot and desperate.

"God, Ryan," Brendon gasps, as the kiss breaks again, and he feels Ryan's fingers unbuckling his belt. "We're in - we're in school, and --"

"It doesn't matter," Ryan mutters. He finishes with Brendon's belt, and then unbuckles his own, leaning over to kiss the corner of Brendon's mouth, so hard that Brendon wonders if it's going to leave a bruise. He doesn't care, though, because it's Ryan, and he's shimmying his jeans down his legs, and Brendon's doing the same, and they're kissing, teeth knocking slightly, tongues pressing against one another's.

"Fuck, do you have any lube?" Ryan asks, his voice oddly strangled. Brendon shakes his head, brain so fuzzy that he barely even wonders why Ryan would think he carries such a thing round with him. Ryan swears, loudly, and drops to his knees, rummaging around his bag with trembling hands.

He pulls out a condom wrapper, getting to his feet, and looks at Brendon, chest heaving. "Can I? I don't have any lube, but, fuck, I need you, and --"

"Fuck, yes," Brendon groans, pulling Ryan closer to him, meeting his mouth in another hard, clumsy kiss. He feels Ryan pulling the condom onto himself, as the kiss deepens, and Brendon breaks it, turning against the wall and bending, slightly. He's never fucked without lube before, but God, he needs this more than anything else in the world, and he's hardly going to complain. Ryan runs the tap for a moment, slicking up his cock as much as possible, with spit and water, and then, letting out a small moan of release, pushes into Brendon.

Brendon let's out a groan, as fire seems to lick all the way up his spine, and he closes his eyes tightly. Ryan presses deeper inside of him, fingers curling around his hips, letting out another moan. Brendon, bizarrely, despite all of the pain, can't help but feel ridiculous amazing, because there's passion in Ryan's almost angry thrusts, and there's pleasure there, too, amongst the stinging sensation.

It feels as though everything about the past two days is coming to a head; the frustration, the anger, the pain, the bitterness; everything is in the sex, every bruise, every cut, and somehow, it's amazing, and Brendon finds himself moaning as he's pushed up against the wall, again and again.

"Fuck, Brendon," Ryan hisses, burying his face into Brendon's back, as he pulls out and in, in and out, causing Brendon to just about see stars. "I'm going to - fuck, already --"

He lets out a loud, choked moan, and actually bites the back of Brendon's shirt. His hands find Brendon's cock, and begin to jerk it, fast and relentlessly, and, embarrassingly, Brendon comes almost straight away, with a pained, muffled groan as his lips smear across the wall tiles.

Ryan pulls out, lets him go, and he all but crumples to the floor. His knees are week and his body is sore and his brain is spinning, but he feels so amazing, and just a little overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all.

Ryan backs against the opposite wall, all out of breath and flushed and lovely, and throws the condom in the bin. He pulls up his jeans, hands shaking even more violently than before. Then, with obvious effort, he straightens, and manages to stumble over to where Brendon is.

Brendon looks up at him, with wide eyes, jeans still halfway down his legs, sticky and unbuckled. "What --" he stops, and licks his lips. "What j-just happened?"

Ryan takes a moment to answer, looking a little lost himself. Then, he drops heavily to his knees, and leans forward to meet Brendon's lips in a soft, tender kiss, that makes Brendon's stomach twist hotly. When he pulls back, he's smiling. "What just happened? I don't know, but I'm yours, for the long run."

Brendon laughs, and Ryan laughs, too.

Brendon thinks it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.