One Night Stand Forever (Ryden)

Part Twenty-Seven

Hands deep in his pockets, head dipped, a poor imitation of a true thug, Brendon Urie shuffled along the sidewalk. He was hidden behind a small throng of people, young adults eager to lose themselves under the flashing lights of the bars up ahead. His destination was a bit similar, but his purpose, the reason he first stepped out of his house and set off towards the bus stop, that was very different.

These people wanted a good time. He wanted to prove himself.

The streets became quieter the further he walked, and he had lost the anonymous group nearly five blocks back, so he had no sense of security, even if it had come in the form of unknown faces. His eyes flashed from left to right, taking in his surroundings, and it wasn't that the street was particularly set in a poor area of town, but the fact that he was alone made it eerie. The shadows were more pronounced. The alleyways seemed darker.

As soon as he rounded a corner his eyes caught sight of the street sign and all familiarity rushed back to him. Gabe's concerned words traveled through his head for the hundredth time.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, B?" he had asked.

Brendon had laughed, something forced and quick, and in his slyest voice possible, said, "Of course, Gabanti. You know the kind of person I am."

By the following look on his friend's face, it could be interpreted that Gabe had no idea who Brendon was at that moment.

He shook the thought from his head and projected his focus onto an upcoming balcony, stocked full of men and women of all ages, of all skin tones. Every single one had a smile stretching their lips. Brendon tried, but failed to copy them. He took one last glance up at the fluorescent sign above the door, the flag draped next to it, and submerged himself into the sea of bodies only inches from the late night air.

Almost immediately, a hand tugged at his hoodie, and he was pulled through the crowd, pressed flush up against another boy with blonde hair styled at a point above his forehead, much like the hairdo Ryan had produced after hours huffing about because of 'the ugliest haircut ever'. His lips matched Brendon's own, plump and pouty. They cooled his heated ears with their breath and a whisper of, "How about a name so I'll have something to scream when I come in your mouth, yeah?"

Brendon pulled back, enough to look into the boy's pale blue eyes. Different than Ryan's. The complete opposite. Thank God. "B-Brendon," he stuttered. The boy chuckled at his obvious hesitation. Little did he know, Brendon was nowhere near shy; he was only a tad reluctant given the circumstances, which consisted of his son, probably strewn across Ryan's chest while his father was in a position much like his own, only with a complete stranger.

At the biting of one trembling lip, the boy cocked his head to the side, gazing at Brendon as if trying to figure him out, analyzing his posture, his eye movement, the incessant tapping of his sneakered foot. Ryan scrutinized him like that whenever he failed to notice that he had put Gabriel's diaper on backwards.

But Ryan wasn't a very important person, and he definitely had no right clawing into Brendon's mind at such a time, so Brendon surged forward to kiss the other boy. The boy that wasn't Ryan. And it felt so good and rebellious, this clashing of teeth on teeth and curling of tongues, much wilder than Ryan's kisses. The boy's touch was hotter, as well, as his fingers clung onto the hem of Brendon's t-shirt, dragging him across the floor in a state of what the fuck am I doing and into the bright white of the gay bar's bathroom.

The cubicle was filthy and Brendon winced as he was shoved against the wall. He could feel the dirt dusting into his intricately styled hair.

"So, hey, pretty boy," the boy spoke, and Brendon ignored the moans in the background that flowed under from the stall next to them, focusing on the boy in front of him. The light made it easier to make out his features, and he appeared close to Brendon's age, possibly a year or two older. Maybe Brendon was jailbait. His heart raced at the thought. "Let's see what that tongue can do elsewhere."