skirts // ryden

twenty one

As soon as the ringing of a bell filled Brendon's ears, his hands flew to slam his locker shut and his feet moved to run off to class. English. The one period where Brendon could see Ryan. Not a word spoken or even an exchanged glance, but he was still there.

The classroom door swung open, allowing Brendon entrance and he quickly plopped down into his seat, scouring the room for the tall brown-haired boy his eyes were always trained on. Ryan was always early. Where was he? Brendon's eyes darted about the room a second time; maybe he had missed him? Of course not, they had assigned seats and Ryan wasn't present at his desk.

When class began, Brendon sank down in his seat, keeping his eyes on the door at any chance he could.

"Brendon Urie."

Brendon's gaze snapped back to the front of the classroom.

"Here.."

His voice wasn't his usual upbeat tone. It was dreary and tired and exasperated. And overall not Brendon Urie. But of course, he still waited for a Ryan Ross that wouldn't be showing up to class.

Ryan's footsteps creaked out of the bus. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack protectively as his fingers barely quivered. His sneakers carried him to a coffee shop across the street, cars whizzing past as the tall boy waited for a flickering light to show him that he could pass the street. Well, pass the street without getting run over, that is.

Ryan had never ditched school. For good reason, too. Despite the fact that he was courageous enough to wear his skirts to school, he was always too afraid to where them elsewhere. So he never let his house. His mother, however, would have been suspicious if he left home without his usual attire and Ryan didn't actually own any pants.

So his skirt fluttered along with the wind and Ryan began to gather a spring in his step. He pushed the door of the coffee shop open, taking in the scent of pastries and coffee, not to mention the warmth of the building. There were not many patrons, but that did give Ryan less of a hard time. Not as many people to watch him embarrass himself in a skirt.

"Hello! My name is Ray, how may I help you?"

A person who looked a bit older than Ryan caught his attention from across the counter. A comfortable smile was worn on their face and they seemed perfectly harmless. Ryan felt the faintest smile creep to his face, almost as if then enthusiasm of the barista was contagious. Like if they were to sneeze, instead of making anyone sick, they would make them..happy.

The feeling was strange, to say the least. Ryan proceeded to place an order and he went to take a seat by a window, gazing out at the people bustling by. His legs pressed themselves together, the blue fabric of his skirt pressed against the seat under his bottom.

Ryan heard his name called by Ray and a feeling of dread suddenly surged through him. The call reminded him too fondly of professors taking attendance at school. Because he wasn't there. And he wasn't sick or anything, he simply played hooky.

His long pair of now shaking legs stood to retrieve his drink and pastry and Ryan speedily shuffled back to the table. His elbows dropped themselves on the tabletops, chin now resting in the palm of his hand. Ryan hesitantly reached for his phone to check the time. The destination he arrived at already was far enough to take a decent amount of time and English class had just ended at this point.

Ryan gnawed at his bottom lip, leaving it still raw and pink when his teeth released the flesh.

Unblock brenny 💙 ?

yes  ✔️                       no

brenny 💙 : ryan..why aren't you at school? you never miss school.

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