S T U P I D ; joshler

Tyler Doesn't Talk And Brendon Doesn't Stop

High school is always either easier for the quiet kids or complete shit. No in between. The quiet kids were just easy targets or no target, because it wasn't like they got into drama anyway. Usually the quiet kids just sat back, like a back drop; extras in some stupid fucking high school movie and some other metaphor that's totally irrelevant to the plot.

The point is, Tyler is quiet. He dances beyond he realm of quiet, even, because Tyler doesn't speak and no one really minds- no one that counts, anyway.

He's friends with Brendon Urie, which has to count for something, considering that he never shuts his fucking mouth. Not that Tyler is complaining, because being selectively mute has its perks, one of which is being an extremely good listener. It seemed as though that was exactly what Brendon needed, anyway, so Tyler would happily oblige.

There were those select few people, however, that definitely minded that Tyler didn't speak. They felt as though his lack of speech affected them on a personal level when really it wasn't any of their goddamn business. Even so, Tyler didn't really make much of an effort to stand up for himself because he never really saw the need to. Brendon tried sometimes, but the word "stupid" only stung so many times before falling flat on its metaphorical face.

"I would sell my left testicle just to get Ryan Ross or Dallon Weekes to even acknowledge me," Brendon whined, rather loudly, considering that both boys were chatting happily on the opposite side of the math classroom, "and that's saying a lot because you know how much I love my left ball in particular."

Tyler smiled, a sort of airy chuckle pressing through his nose. He looked up at Brendon, before pulling his hands up and giving him a small thumbs up.

"Was that an okay to sell my balls?"

Tyler held up a finger.

"Right, only the one ball, yeah," Brendon scoffed with a roll of his eyes. Tyler just grinned. "Seriously though, am I ugly?"

Tyler shook his head with a sigh, before bringing his phone out and typing in his notes, "not ugly, just fucking crazy."

"Thanks, Ty," Brendon huffed, falling back into his seat. "You always know what to say."

Tyler raised his brow, waiting for Brendon to process the complete idiocy of what he'd just said.

"Type. You always know what to type, you little nitpicking prick."

That was true, Tyler was prone to nitpicking, but wasn't everyone sometimes? Okay, perhaps Tyler was to the extreme- more than extreme, even, but he didn't see much problem with it. The only thing he'd found wrong with himself was his voice and he fixed that by not talking, so really, there wasn't a problem.

"Look alive, sunshine, there's a new kid," Brendon snickered, nudging Tyler's shoulder playfully. Tyler looked up toward the door where, indeed, there stood a violently attractive purple haired boy and Tyler decided that, no no, you can't do that. That's illegal. "Oh, he is so pretty... Not as pretty as Dallon or Ryan, but-"

Tyler held up his phone, the screen reading out, "prettier."

"I have to disagree," Brendon screeched, "have you even looked at those two sex gods?"

Yes, Tyler had, often, but only because Brendon usually grabbed him by his chin and made him look which was just doing wonders for his already fucked up jaw. Damn thing popped whenever he opened his mouth and now Brendon was manhandling him.

It was definitely an irrefutable fact that, yes, Dallon Weekes and Ryan Ross were in fact sex gods, but it was also an irrefutable fact that the two were in a relationship. The only spark of hope for Brendon was the fact that they were both polyamorous and open to another partner- not that Brendon would get his head out of his own ass long enough to make a move, but whatever.