It's strange, Brendon thinks, but he feels like he really doesn't belong in school, anymore.

He sits in Math, with Spencer at is side, and Ryan somewhere at the back of the class, and Mr. Dunn going on and on about imaginary numbers, and Timothy laughing with a friend in the corner - and he just feels so out of place. It's as though he's grown up over the past couple of days, with the suicide and the funeral and Rodney leaving and Ryan living with him - and now it feels like he's taken a step back in time, somehow.

It's not a good thing, either.

He finds everything so weird and catered for children; the way that that the teachers speak down to them; the way that everything is so structured and timetabled; the way that there's a clear hierarchy amongst the kids; the way that he can't be open about the fact that he's in love with a boy.

As he thinks this, he glances behind him, to see that Ryan is staring off into space, a faraway look on his face. He seems to notice Brendon watching him out of the corner of his eye, however, and meets his gaze. Brendon smiles, slightly, and Ryan smiles back, knowingly.

Brendon turns back to the front of the class.

Maybe he does feel awkward and out-of-place in high school. But at least he's got Ryan by his side, to weather the storm with him.

*

"What class have we got next?" Ryan asks, as the pair of them walk through the corridor. Brendon thinks for a moment, and then winces.

"P.E.," he sighs, heavily, and Ryan pulls a face. The boy is still bruised, the marks having faded to dull purple, but nobody has commented on it. Brendon had forgotten that people are actually scared to so much as talk to his boyfriend; the idea seems so alien to him, now, and he's ashamed of ever having been the same. "I don't want to go."

Ryan glances at him, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well then. Let's not go."

"You're such a bad influence," Brendon laughs, rolling his eyes. "I dunno. There's not much else to do. We may as well --"

Before he knows what's happening, Ryan is pushing him backwards into the storeroom they're passing, and shutting the door behind him. He's wearing a small, playful smirk, as he backs Brendon against the wall, none too gently. Brendon raises his eyebrows, fighting back a smile.

Ryan takes off Brendon's new, red glasses, pockets them, and then kisses him, hard. Brendon smiles against his boyfriend's lips, and slips his arms around his waist, pulling their bodies closer. It's been far too long since they kissed, really kissed, that is - what with Ryan's problems recently, it's seemed a bit inappropriate to do.

But now, Ryan is tracing a trail of hot kisses down his neck, one of his hands slipping down to the front of Brendon's trousers, and Brendon has to bite his lip - hard - to stop himself from moaning. The last thing he wants is for anybody to hear them whilst they walk past.

"Thank you," Ryan murmurs, as he drops to his knees, hands moving to unbuckle Brendon's belt, "for putting up with me, these past few days."

"It's, um, f-fine," Brendon laughs, breathily, as Ryan manages to get his jeans and boxers halfway down his legs. "It's m-more than fine, you know it was no trouble or anything."

"Still," Ryan sighs, looking up at Brendon. He closes his fingers around Brendon's hardening cock, with a bright smile. "Thank you."

Brendon says nothing in reply, but instead grabs ontop the shelves of the storeroom for support, as Ryan takes him, deep, into his mouth. He can't believe how amazing everything about the boy feels; the velvet of his mouth around his cock, the way his hair falls into his eyes, the colour of his eyes, the softness of his voice, the tenderness of his expression - even his anger, at times. He just can't believe how hard he's fallen for his classmate, after all the drama they've been through.

He tries to remember the moment he realised his was in love, and thinks back to how much it had hurt when they'd argued, and how much it felt like somebody had punched him straight in the chest. He guesses that was it. He thinks that -- in fact, no, fuck, he can't think, not with Ryan doing what he's doing. In fact, why isn't he just thinking of what's happening, right now?

It takes three minutes of groaning and passion to bring Brendon to the edge, and when he comes, he comes hard, twisting his fingers into the softness of Ryan's hair and tossing his head back, letting out a throaty, husky moan from the depths of his throat.

"G-God Ryan," he manages to laugh, as the boy stands up, smiling slightly. "You're just, well. I mean. Way better than P.E., to say the least."

"Well," Ryan grins, taking Brendon's glasses from his pocket, and putting them neatly back onto his boyfriend, "I'd be disappointed if you thought any different."

*

A few hours later, and the pair of them have recovered from their little excursion in the storeroom, and are walking through Brendon's front door.

As Ryan shuts the door behind them, Brendon stops, letting out a contended sigh, and leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the corner of Ryan's mouth. Ryan smiles, shaking the hair from his eyes. "What was that for?"

"For lots of things," Brendon shrugs, smirking. "But mostly for the amazing sex we're going to have tonight."

Ryan laughs, only going slightly red. "You're such a whore, Brendon Urie. Subtlety really isn't your strong point, is it?"

"Nope," Brendon replies, happily. "But isn't that a good thing?"

"It's a great thing, of course," Ryan laughs, patronisingly ruffling Brendon's hair. "Promise me you'll never get any dignity?"

"I promise," Brendon says, with a serious expression, and he slips his hand around Ryan's waist, to pinch his ass. Ryan lets out a surprised sound that sounds embarrassingly like a squeak, which causes Brendon to practically double over in laughter. Ryan scowls, playfully, and pushes him in the shoulder.

Brendon somehow manages to recover, and quickly finds Ryan pressing him against the wall, with a passionate, almost hungry kiss. "I don't know why," Ryan murmurs, against his mouth, "but the sound of your laughter is a real turn-on."

Brendon snorts, without quite meaning too, which kind of ruins the kiss. As Ryan breaks it, Brendon informs him, "You say that I'm the unsubtle one? You're about to undress me in the hallway."

"I can't think of anything else I'd rather do," Ryan says, with an innocent smile.

"Well, let's save it for the bedroom." Brendon somehow manages to restrain himself from having sex right in the middle of the hallway, and leads Ryan towards the kitchen, by his hand. "We'll get something to eat first; build up stamina, and all that."

He pushes the door open to the kitchen, and comes to a dead halt, Ryan banging into him as he does so.

It's with a strange sense of déjà vu with which he surveys the scene. He'd been scarred enough seeing his mom making-out with Rodney against the counter - but now? It's kind of worse. His mom and his dad are making-out, in the same place, and he wonders then and there how painful it would be to pour bleach in his eyes.

"You two have absolutely no self-respect, do you?" he groans, burying his face into Ryan's neck to try and avoid seeing any more. "That's now damaged my brain a bit, thank you very much."

"It's okay, they've stopped," Ryan whispers, soothingly, though his voice is shaking with laughter. Brendon looks up, reluctantly, to find that they have indeed broken apart. His mom looks flustered and humiliated, whilst his dad merely winks at his son, running a hand through his hair, looking overly pleased with himself.

"Um. W-well," Mrs. Urie stammers, smoothing down the front of her shirt. "Did you, er, both have a n-nice day at school?"

Brendon completely forgets the horrific sight he's just witnessed, his mind instead going to the much nicer memory of storerooms and blowjobs. He goes a little red, and clears his throat. "It was, um, good thanks."

"I'm glad," Mrs. Urie smiles, and shoots her husband an embarrassed look, as though the whole thing is his fault. "Would you both like a drink or something?"

"Yes please," Ryan replies, and goes forward to helps her make them. Brendon's just about to follow suit, when there's the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He flips it open, to see he has a text. He assumes it's from Spencer or Jon or Brent, so he's very surprised when he sees an unknown number.

Frowning slightly, he opens the text, to read: remember what i told you. tomorrow, watch out.

He blinks, and rereads it, wondering what the fuck somebody is sending him that for. Ryan breaks him from his thoughts by telling him he's just made him a lemonade, and so he closes his phone, and puts it back in his pocket.

As he takes a gulp of his drink, he decides not to tell anybody about the text. It's probably just some stupid joke, and why would he want to worry anybody with it?

Still, he can't quite shake the strange, foreboding feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

He tries his hardest, though, and when Ryan asks him what's the matter, Brendon shakes his head, smiles, and lies, saying that everything is fine.

Because of course it is. It'd be stupid to get freaked out.

Wouldn't it?