"What do you mean Ryan Ross kissed you?" Spencer splutters, loudly.

"Shh!" Brendon pleads, casting a worried look round, but nobody in the yard seems to have heard. "You can't tell anybody, seriously. Not Brent or William or Jon, or anybody else. If it goes round we'll both get the shit kicked out of us, and anyway, I don't want him to think I'm making a big deal out of it because he might not have even thought about it since, and it might have been an accident so I can't make it seem like –"

"It doesn't sound like it was an accident to me," Spencer disagrees, still looking stunned. "I can't actually believe that he'd do that. He's like, the strangest kid I've ever met and he's never had a friend, as far as I can remember, so to actually kiss you – well. I don't know. I didn't know he was gay, either."

"Me neither," Brendon sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously. "But what am I going to do? It's going to be so awkward next time we see each other. Have you ever had that? You and somebody kiss and then don't talk about it, and then the first time you see each other afterwards it's really, really awkward, and –"

Spencer, who is looking over Brendon's shoulder, suddenly looks petrified. "No, I've never had that," he breathes, paling, "but I-I'm about to."

"What?" exclaims Brendon, surprised, and turns to see who Spencer is looking at.

It is, not all that surprisingly, none other than Jon Walker, who is walking through a crowd of kids from 8th grade towards them, looking as nervous as hell. Brendon whips back around to Spencer, mouth open. "You and Jon kissed? Why didn't you tell me sooner? What happened? Where did it happen? I can't believe --"

"Keep your voice down!" Spencer hisses, and then shakes his head, stepping warningly on Brendon's foot. "Uh. Hey, Jon."

"Hi," Jon replies, quietly, coming to a halt between Spencer and Brendon. He avoids Spencer's eye, scratching the back of his neck and instead looking towards Brendon. "How are you, Brendon?"

"Okay," Brendon replies, though he's far from it, really. "What about you?"

"I'm, um, good thanks," Jon shrugs, and glances at Spencer quickly, before looking away. "So. Uh. What were you guys talking about?"

"Music," Brendon lies, smoothly, and Spencer shoots him a grateful look. "We were just discussing our projects. What are you two doing for yours? Ryan and I aren't really far with ours, but we're getting there. I'm going to sing, and Ryan's going to play guitar – I'm not sure if it'll be acoustic or guitar, but probably acoustic – and he's going to write the lyrics, too, but nothing is definite yet so I'm not really sure how it'll end up. Can you play any instruments? You seem like the musician type, and –"

"I play bass, and a little bit of guitar," Jon replies, his eyebrows raised at the detailed answer. "I didn't know you could sing.

"I don't think I'm very good, but Ryan thinks I am," Brendon explains, cheeks burning at the thought of the compliment. Spencer makes a small, scoffing sound, and mutters, "He would."

Brendon glares at him, pointedly. "So, Spencer, what else were we talking about before Jon came, hmm? It's slipped my mind, but maybe you can tell him."

"We weren't talking about anything interesting," he says, hastily, nudging Brendon hard in the ribs with his elbow. "Anyway, we should probably head to History."

"Can I have a word with you, Spencer?" Jon asks, abruptly. "Um, in private? No offence or anything, Brendon."

"No offence taken," Brendon smiles, all too happy to leave them to it. After all, he can tell that once they're past the awkwardness, they'll probably confess their feelings for one another, and Brendon's hardly about to get in the way of that. He bids them both a quick goodbye, and heads to class.

Even though he's still confused and longing and wistful and nervous, because of Ryan, he can't help but be happy that at least two people he knows seem set to have a normal, loving, functional relationship.

At least, he doesn't think that Jon is about to pull a knife out to threaten Spencer any time soon.

*

Brendon turns away from the counter, his plate full of lunch. The morning has passed quickly, which is a relief. Spencer and Jon had arrived five minutes late for History, but they were glowing, somehow, sharing secret looks and smiles all class. It didn't take Brendon long to work out what must have happened, and he's beyond happy that it has.

However, distracting him from his friends' happiness quite well, had been Ryan. The boy hasn't met his eye all day, instead just sitting silently in the back of their classes. Brendon attempted, once or twice, to get his attention, but Ryan just seemed to see straight through him.

Brendon, however, isn't going to be deterred. If he's learned one thing about Ryan, it's that he's not about to show what he's feeling. He'd kissed Brendon, more than once, and so surely he feels something? Even if there's a glimmer of hope, Brendon isn't going to give up. He feels a ridiculous amount for Ryan, and he's beginning to almost loathe himself for it, and all he wants to know is if there's actually a chance at something happening between them.

As he casts about for a place to sit - Spencer and Jon are suspiciously missing, not that he's surprised - his eyes fall upon a particular table, at which sits a particular boy. Brendon bites his lip, building up his courage, and then walks towards Ryan, who is sat alone and is glumly playing with his food.

Ryan starts and looks up as Brendon slides onto the seat opposite him, laying his tray of food onto the table. Ryan's eyes narrow, and he tenses, and around them, silence gradually falls as everybody realises that the weird new kid is sitting with the even weirder Ryan Ross.

"What do you want?" Ryan asks, in a monotone voice, looking almost bored. Brendon thinks he can tell that it's a façade, though, and he's for some reason desperate to see the real Ryan, just for once.

"I just thought you might like some company," Brendon shrugs, in an attempt at casualness. He looks down at his food, pushing a couple of carrots around with his fork, and then looks back up at Ryan with a bright smile. "They serve a lot of meat here, don't they? There's not much else but carrots and cheese sandwiches for me to eat. I know people will probably think it ridiculous for me to ask for anything more because it's my choice to be a vegetarian, but I think that --"

"What do you want?" Ryan repeats, more loudly, slamming his cutlery down on the table and glaring at Brendon. "Don't you have some friends to go and annoy?"

Brendon blinks, more than a little hurt, but he tells himself not to give up. "Look," he replies, calmly, ignoring the fact that a fair few people are still listening. He sighs, and then fixes Ryan with a wide-eyed, imploring look. "I don't understand what I've done wrong."

"I never said you did anything wrong, I just --"

"Then why don't you want me to sit with you?"

Ryan stares at him, anger fading to what seems like confusion. He studies him, silently, for almost a minute, and Brendon notices - his heart skipping a beat - that his eyes flicker more than once to Brendon's lips. "It's not that I don't want you to sit with me," he replies, in a quiet, almost hesitant voice, that Brendon has to lean closer to hear. "I just don't know why you want to."

Brendon blinks. "Well, I like --"

"No," Ryan cuts through him, standing up. "No, you don't. You can't. I've done some stupid shit, and you know what I'm talking about, and it doesn't mean that I suddenly want you following me around. I'm going to eat somewhere else."

"No, wait, can't --"

"Bye, Brendon," Ryan says, quietly, and then turns and walks away, leaving his food where it is. Brendon half-considers going after him, but he knows it's no use. If Ryan doesn't want him, well. He obviously just doesn't want him, and there's nothing that Brendon can think to do to change that.

But why the hell would Ryan kiss him, if he wasn't interested? The contradictions make Brendon's head hurt, not to mention all of the disappointment he's feeling, and he closes his eyes, wondering if he's actually going to cry in the middle of school.

Before it really hits him that the kisses don't seem to have meant anything, somebody settles onto the bench next to him, and they clear their throat. He looks up, hopefully, wondering if it's possible for Ryan to have changed his mind and to have returned.

It is, however, a girl he vaguely recognises. She has dark hair and big, dark eyes, with freckles across her nose, and a slim figure. She is, he must admit, very pretty, but he doesn't really appreciate that as much as most boy's his age would. He tries to place her face, and remembers her as the girl who is in most of his classes, and is friends with Timothy Ashfield and Alison Cook, and the rest of the popular crowds.

"Hello!" she smiles, brightly. Her voices is strangely simpering and drawn out and girlish, and it makes a shiver run down his spine. It is, he decides, a very, very irritating voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Brendon lies, wondering what on earth she could want. "Um. Are you?"

"Yes, I'm really good, thanks," she replies. She acts younger than she is, and for some reason that fact infuriates him. "I'm Emily Hurst, by the way. You're Brendon Urie, aren't you?"

Brendon nods, feeling bewildered. She smiles, and tucks her hair behind her ear. "You totally shouldn't bother trying to talk to that Ryan Ross. He's really rude and a freak, and completely unbalanced."

Brendon frowns, still strangely defensive, even if certain feelings aren't mutual. "Actually, I think he's --"

"I heard you have ADHD, is that true?" she cuts through him, looking interested.

"Uh, yeah, I do," he shrugs, awkwardly, and she nods.

"Yeah, I could tell. Your legs is bouncing up and down really quickly under the table."

Brendon stops it. "Oh. Um. Yeah, I do it without thinking."

"I think it's cute," she smiles, and inside he winces. He hates the patronising tone of her voice. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing," he replies, honestly, but immediately regrets it when she giggles. He wishes he could be better at lying. "Why?"

"Let's meet up at that new café that's opened on Pier Street at seven, okay?"

Brendon knows he should say no. He wants to say no. He's not even straight, and even if he were, this girl annoys him more than he can express. He glances around, however, and sees Ryan eating across the room, a new meal in front of him. Maybe, just maybe, jealousy will be the way to go to break him, however cruel Brendon feels for thinking it.

"Okay," he says to the girl, forcing a smile to come across his face. "I'll see you then."

"Good!" she smiles, plants a quick kiss on his cheek, and then stands up and bounds off to her large group of friends in the corner. Brendon watches her go, stomach a little queasy, and then, without quite meaning to, he looks back at Ryan. Ryan is staring at him with wide, almost hurt eyes, but once their gazes meet, he hastily looks back down at his meal.

Brendon feels an odd flicker of triumph, even amongst the disgust inside. Maybe taking the annoying, bubbly girl on a date might actually be worth it.

*

"...so, then, he tells me that he didn't really mean to cheat on her, when he obviously did. I just told him to get a life, and he gave me the dirtiest look," Emily laughs, rolling her eyes. Brendon laughs along with her, though feebly, and lets his attention wander.

It's now nearing eight, and they've eaten a small meal and drank a few sodas, and she hasn't shut up all evening. He's usually the one to dominate conversation, but he really doesn't want to talk to her, even though it's tempting to tell her to shut up with her meaningless gossip.

He looks across the café, taking in the assorted people sitting down and eating. The place is fairly nice, and he finds himself planning to bring Ryan here someday. He realises what he's doing, though, and shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts from his mind. He glances back at Emily, to see her still talking, and decides to tune back into the conversation.

"Like I said, he is completely wrong for her, he's really loud and rude and she's much more shy," she shrugs, with a despairing shake of her head, and then focuses upon Brendon, smile widening, slightly. "So. Are you having a nice time?"

"Yeah," Brendon lies, trying to smile convincingly. "It's been a nice evening. Did you want to head home soon, though?"

"Of course not," she laughs, playfully, and moves closer to him on the bench. He swallows, hard, fighting repulsion as she entwines her fingers with his and looks up at him, expectantly. "You don't want to go home, do you?"

"No," Brendon shrugs, though he wants nothing more. He glances out of the window, which is opposite them, wondering if he can distract her enough to run out of the café. "Uh, listen --"

"Your lips look really soft, you know," Emily murmurs, sweetly, and Brendon raises his eyebrows. Oh, God. Is a girl, after all this time, actually coming on to him? What the hell is he supposed to do? He certainly doesn't want to kiss her, but she's leaning closer and pressing her lips together, her mouth nearing his and --

At the last moment, he looks again towards the window, and - to his amazement, and making his heart leap in his chest - Ryan is walking past, looking at the floor, his hands in his pockets. Before he knows what he's doing, and just at the moment Emily's lips touch his, he exclaims, "Ryan!"

Emily pulls back, sharply. "What did you just say?"

Brendon blanches. "Um. Nothing. I was just thinking about --"

"You were thinking of a boy whilst you kissed me?" she shrieks, loudly, and the café falls silent as she stands up. Brendon colours, standing up, too, and shaking his head. "That's disgusting!"

"I wasn't, I was just --"

"Ugh, I'd heard Timothy say you were gay, but I thought he was just making stuff up as usual. I thought because you're cute you'd be straight. But obviously he was right all along!"

Brendon tries to take her arm, to calm her down, but she wrenches it out of his grip. "Look, you've got the wrong idea," he sighs, biting his lip. "I just saw him walk past, and it took my be surprise, so I --"

"Oh, whatever," she snaps, rolling her eyes. She walks away from him, out of the café, and whips her phone out as she does so. Just before the door swings shut behind her, he's pretty sure he hears her say, "Hey, Tim? You'll never guess what just happened to me..."

Brendon stares after her, stunned by her sudden exit and her reaction to the slip of his tongue, and then swears, loudly.

If she thinks - well, knows - he's gay, and she's ringing Timothy, to conform what he already suspects...

Well, Brendon thinks, as he sinks back onto the bench. He's fucked.

And not in the way he accidentally dreamed about with a certain, dark-haired boy, the night before.