(I Am the Derivative and You Are the Curves)

Part One

If Ryan Ross got one more D in College Algebra, he was going to flunk out of school.

Or so his advisor told him, but what did an English major need with Algebra anyway? He most certainly was not going to need it, and he most certainly did not need a tutor.

Yet there he was, wasting a perfectly nice Saturday afternoon in September at the library, waiting for this appointed "tutor" to show up. He was just going to wait for the dude to get there so he could send him away, and tell him his services were no longer required.

Ryan was checking his email when a guy with an armful of books approached his table. "Hey, Ryan, right?" the guy asked. Ryan nodded. "I'm here to tutor you for MAT 1060. I'm Brendon."

What did this lanky, overly enthused grinning schmuck know about math, and what could he possibly teach him? Ryan knew the material, he just didn't care. Ryan cleared his throat and muttered hey as Brendon sat across from him at the designated tutor table at the library. He closed his laptop and figured he could at least wait to hear what the guy had to say.

"Professor Mckey says you're in danger of failing?" Brendon began, separating his books into stacks. His long bangs got in the way of his thick-framed glasses, and he had to keep pushing them back.

Ryan shrugged. "Is all this really necessary? It's college algebra, not micro-physics or anything."

"Actually, college algebra has the highest drop-out rate of any liberal arts class," Brendon stated matter-of-factly. Ryan whirled his finger around in a whoop-de-do manner. Brendon smiled. "Look, I know this sucks, but I'm required to be here too. Part of my credit for my thesis. It's this, or actually teaching the class, and I'm way too ADD to teach a group of freshmen for 50 minutes."

Despite himself, Ryan actually smiled. "So then can we just sign off on the paper and say we did it and both get what we want?"

"I'm afraid not, Ryan. See, then you would still fail, which would expose our fraudulence, and besides, even though I have better things I could be doing, I care too much about math to turn down an opportunity to talk numbers." Brendon grinned, and opened up his rented copy of Ryan's algebra book. "Let's just start from the beginning."


**
"So, you're a math genius or something," Ryan said as they were closing up their books half an hour later, finishing up the first session. Brendon had shown Ryan a few practice problems from his current lesson. Ryan knew how to do everything; it was just remembering it all on the test. Not studying will do that to you.

"Hardly," Brendon said, packing everything into his book bag. "Just like it enough to study it for a quarter of my life thus far, but I'm in serious danger of losing my university funding if I don't tutor for at least 3 hours a week. So you're gonna see more of me, kiddo."

"Three hours a week?" Ryan groaned. "That's a whole 'nother class."

"Don't worry, you're not my only student," Brendon said. They stood up and walked together through the library. "We can keep it to once a week on Saturdays. If that's okay with you," Brendon added.

"Hey, you're the tutor, you set the rules," Ryan asked, still surprised by how laid back the whole thing had been.

"So, lemme know how you do on the quiz next week, okay? We can go from there." Brendon stopped walking before they reached the library entrance.

"Sure. Where are you going now?"

"I've got that thesis, remember? Have an evening of research planned back upstairs in a secluded corner."

"Sounds thrilling. I've got a loud roommate and an xbox waiting for me, so."

Brendon smiled. "See you next week." He gave a little wave and turned around, walking back into the depths of the library. Ryan watched him walk away, thinking a life devoted to math must be the most boring life ever.


**
The door was jammed, again. Fuck this, Ryan thought, sighing and tugging at the knob. Ancient dorm rooms from the 60s. The building was practically falling apart.

"I've got it," Ryan heard Spencer call out from inside. His roommate had it open two seconds later, smiling in the doorway. "You're back early."

"Didn't go that long," Ryan said, walking into the tiny room he and his best friend shared. Haley, Spencer's girlfriend, was lying on Spencer's bed and reading a magazine.

"So how was it? Did you get a chick tutor?" he asked.

"No, this math geek dude. But he was...he was okay," Ryan said, thinking about Brendon. "He like, devotes his life to math. Kind of sad, actually."

"That's lame. Wanna play Tony Hawk?" Spencer asked, throwing Ryan a controller.

"Yeah," Ryan said, sitting on the floor in front of the small TV wedged in between their closets.

Ryan and Spencer were both first-years at UNLV, and they mostly played video games and ordered take-out and went to local concerts; you know, all the same old stuff they always did, just without parents around. If it wasn't for that whole going to class thing, Ryan thought college life was pretty awesome. It was just bullshit like College Algebra standing in his way.

"What are we doing for dinner tonight, babe?" Haley asked Spencer, looking bored.

He shrugged. "Food court?"

"Their food is gross, it's sitting out all day," she groaned.

Ryan stayed quiet and loaded the game; Haley was just this presence always there in the background that he never paid much attention to. If Ryan wasn't mistaken, he was thinking she was becoming just background noise to Spencer, too.

"We can order a pizza then, I guess," Spencer said.

Haley sighed. "I'll just go see what my roommates are doing." She got up off the bed and gave Spencer the quickest peck on the cheek. "Call me later." She grabbed her purse and left the room.

"What's up with her?" Ryan asked, loading his skater and waiting on Spencer.

"Dude, I don't know. I just call it PMS and move on."

It was just the two of them a lot; they didn't know too many other people and Ryan was never the best at making friends. There were a few cool people on their floor, like these guys Jon and Tom from Chicago. Ryan and Spencer tagged along with them to a party a few weeks ago but besides that, he and Spencer sort of kept to themselves. Ryan didn't really mind though. His life was just fine the way it was.


**
Ryan did a little better on that Friday's quiz, but when Brendon asked him about it at tutoring the next day, Ryan just shrugged. "I did okay."

"How were the linear equations?" Brendon asked, opening the textbook and getting out a fresh sheet of notebook paper.

"Fine."

Brendon pursed his lips. "I'm going to need a little more input to know where to go next."

Ryan let out a breath and gave in. "Quadratic formula. I had a hard time remembering it."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere." Brendon smiled. "We're going to keep at it until you can do it perfectly without looking at the formula."

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything," Ryan muttered, but he grabbed his pencil. Brendon's grin stretched across his face. "I think you get some sick pleasure by tormenting others through math."

"Math is only there to help you Ryan, not harm you. Once you understand that, then the real learning can begin."


**
Ryan was pretty sure he could do the quadratic formula in his sleep after an hour straight of it. This time, Brendon walked with Ryan out of the library afterwards, keeping up with him down the sidewalk. "What, no research today?" Ryan asked.

"It's Saturday night, I figured I could take it off," Brendon replied. "I'm going to this bar tonight with a few friends to hear this local band. I'd tell you to come, but...well, I don't think you'd have a fake ID good enough," Brendon teased.

"Hey, I just turned 19, I could pull off another two years," Ryan said, defending himself. "And wait, math tutors have friends? And social lives?"

Brendon laughed. "Ooh, burn from a kid four years younger than me. Just remember the old saying of never judging a book by its cover." Brendon stopped when they passed a parking lot. "See you next week, Ryan."

"Yeah, see you," Ryan said, and caught himself with a smile on his face.


**
The following Saturday, after an hour of parabolas (Ryan hated those little fuckers), Brendon asked, "So, are you hungry?"

Ryan was zipping up his bookbag, so he hadn't really heard. "What?"

"Do you like sushi? There's this great place right down the road, and I'm starving."

"I, um..." Ryan paused to slip on his bookbag, and used the extra second to think. "I've never really had sushi."

Brendon stared at him like he just said he had two heads. "Well then, that settles it. Sushi it is." Brendon gathered his books and stood up, pushing in his chair.

Ryan followed him, still processing. "What if I had other plans?"

"I know you don't. You're a freshmen," he said, and grinned.

Ryan blindly followed Brendon out of the library to the parking lot. They walked through the lot tagged for graduate students, Ryan expecting something more like a station wagon, not the silver Toyota that Brendon walked up to. Not bad, for a math tutor. Ryan almost said it out loud, but stopped himself.

Brendon set his books neatly (too neatly, if you asked Ryan) in the trunk and unlocked the doors for Ryan. "You want to put your bookbag in the trunk?" Brendon asked.

"Sure." He handed it off, and now there were no bags or textbooks in their way, it was just the two of them, just Ryan and Brendon. Even though he still looked his like math tutor, with the same black glasses, messy black hair, and button-down plaid shirt (that was only nerdy if for the calculator he kept in the chest pocket), he seemed someone else entirely. Not just the guy he met with once a week to talk numbers.

Ryan sat down in the passenger side while Brendon sunk into the driver's seat, starting up the car. As they drove, Brendon asked, "So, assuming it's not math, what is your major? No, wait, let me guess." Brendon glanced over at Ryan, looked him up and down, and said, "Philosophy."

Ryan couldn't help but laugh. "Nope."

"Medieval Poetry?"

"Is that even a major? But you're warmer."

"New Age Literature?"

"Almost."

"Creative Writing."

"Damn it."

Brendon chuckled. "Seems fitting. It was my initial guess."

"But you went with philosophy instead? Do I look like an elitist asshole?"

"Do you need me to answer that?"

Ryan gave him the finger, and Brendon laughed.

The restaurant was called Miso's; it was this little place squeezed between a Kinko's and a bar named Uncle Dave's. Inside, it was dark and smelled horribly of raw fish. Ryan wrinkled his nose and followed Brendon to a round high-top table. "Okay, so I know the place doesn't look like much," Brendon said, and Ryan wondered how obvious the distaste was on his face. "But believe me, once you eat sushi here, you'll never want to go anywhere else."

Immediately a small Japanese man came up to their table. He didn't have to say anything before Brendon was already talking. "Hi, we're going to get a double, half shrimp tempura, half spicy tuna, and could you get us some extra garlic sauce on the side? Oh, and two waters."

The waiter wrote a few Japanese characters on his paper, nodded, and walked off.

Ryan looked dumbfounded at Brendon. "Dude, you just ordered for me."

"Yeah, because you don't know what you're getting. I just figured we'd split something. You know, I should've told them to hold the sauce on the spicy tuna. We've got a virgin over here." Brendon winked at Ryan.

This not trying to feel uncomfortable thing wasn't working very well. "I don't mind spicy. It's just the whole raw thing that doesn't hold well."

"Stick with the tempura then. And if you don't like it...we can call off tutoring next week."

"Really? Okay." That sounded like enough incentive for Ryan. "But if I do like it?"

Brendon smiled. "Then we come back next week."

The waiter came by then with their waters, and Ryan immediately grabbed his, suddenly feeling very thirsty. They were quiet for a while, and then Brendon asked, "So, what do you write about?"

"Hmm?" Ryan looked up from his cup.

"You're a creative writing major, right? What do you write?"

Why did everyone always ask English majors that? It wasn't something that could be easily summed up in a term. "Oh, um a lot of different stuff. Literary fiction, mostly. Or, that's what they're trying to teach us. Not to stick to one genre of writing."

"I see. Have you read Chuck Palahniuk's stuff?"

Ryan's eyes lit up. "Yeah, he's my favorite author."

"I thought so."

"Do I seem predictable, or something?"

Brendon shrugged. "A little."

Ryan huffed. "Well, for your information, you look exactly like a math geek would."

"That's because I am one," Brendon smiled at his feeble insult. "And you look like a creative writing major. Do you like Brand New?"

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Liar. And probably indie shit like The Decemberists. And you've got at least six more scarves at home that match that one," Brendon said, nodding at the one draped over Ryan's jacket.

"Hey, it's cold out."

"It's Las Vegas."

"Yeah, well you've probably got a dozen different pocket protectors and at least two more black framed glasses sitting at home, and the sound of sharpening pencils is orgasmic to you."

Brendon gave a loud chuckle. "So there is a sense of humor in there. I thought I was finally cracking that shell."

Ryan just looked at him for a few moments, not sure how to respond. The sushi came then, distracting his thoughts, on a huge white plate that covered the table. "Tempura first," Brendon said, pointing out the one he wanted Ryan to try.

Ryan tried hoisting the roll with his chopsticks, and was more focused on not dropping it than trying to pretend to not like it. "Mmm," he said without thinking, then immediately stopped chewing. Brendon's mouth was open and his eyes were wide with triumph. "I mean, ugh, gross." Ryan spit the mushed roll out on his napkin.

"Too late. I saw that look. You like it."

"No, it really is disgusting."

"Nuh uh. You love it."

"Fuck you."

Brendon laughed again. "So, next week we can try another kind. Now that I know you like tempura, I can go from there."

"I think you misunderstood."

"Then why are you going for another one?" Brendon asked, catching Ryan red-handed.

"Stop judging me."

Brendon smiled up at Ryan, and went for a spicy tuna roll. "You're so easy, Ryan Ross."


**
"So wait, you and your math tutor went on a date?"

Ryan was pacing the room and Spencer stood there, arms folded, listening to why Ryan was back an hour late after tutoring.

"It wasn't a date, Spencer. Two people sharing food. Nothing romantic about it."

"Uh huh. Then why are you so worked up about it?"

"It's just...is this normal? For your tutor to invite you out for sushi? Isn't he breaking some student/teacher code or something?"

"Well, he's not technically a teacher; he's not even a TA, just a student tutor. And besides, it wouldn't be uncommon for a student and a teacher to talk over coffee, or lunch, anyway. Listen, you're in the class what, ten more weeks? Then you'll be out of college algebra, then you don't have to see him again."

That's not what Ryan meant at all. He kept his thought to himself though, and just nodded at Spencer. "Right. Time for Halo?"

"Hell yeah." Ryan threw him a controller and they turned on the game.


**
The first weekend of October was Brendon and Ryan's fourth tutoring session, and Ryan had his first exam review, so he and Brendon spent the hour going through it. Ryan knew the meeting would eventually end, and the deal they made about the sushi would come out.

However, after the hour, Brendon rubbed his eyes, gathered his books, and said, "So I'll see you next week, after the test. Just study the guide and you should be fine."

Ryan hesitated, looking at him. Would he really have to be the one to bring it up? "What...uh, what about last week? The bet we made?"

Brendon blinked a few times, and then it came to him. "Oh, right. I've got to draft the first outline of my thesis by 8am Monday, so I'm going to have to call a rain check. Next week though, for sure."

Ryan made sure he didn't look disappointed. "Oh yeah. Sure, no problem."

Brendon gave a small wave and was off, back into the depths of the library. Ryan remained at the table for a few moments, brushing off this weird feeling of rejection. Whatever.


**
"Tell me you pulled at least an 80."

"What?" It was their next session, and Brendon had enthusiastically taken his seat across from Ryan, awaiting a response.

"Your exam. Professor Mckey said you had to make a B or she'll pull me from tutoring."

"Yeah, I got an 86."

Relief washed over Brendon. "All right." He stuck out his hand for a high five, and Ryan obliged. "Okay, that means an off week."

"What, really?"

"Yeah, you're doing fine. You're really smart, Ryan. Come on, let's go get that sushi, you deserve it."


**
"So, I think I should give you a mini-tutoring on the art of sushi, so you can make an informed decision," Brendon said once they were seated at Miso's. "You're going to want to stick with Maki-sushi. That's what we had last time. Nigiri-sushi's got raw fish on top, so stay away from that. I'll point out the ones on the menu that are cooked, if you want to stick with those."

"Okay," Ryan said, studying the choices. "What are you getting?"

"Mirugai." To Ryan's dumfounded expression, he added, "clam."

Ryan made a face. "Dude, gross."

"Hmm, funny you say so, since I'm making you try it." Brendon winked at Ryan, and it did funny things to his heartbeat.

They made small talk while they waited for their food; Ryan talked about his other classes and what he thought of college so far, while Brendon discussed his own undergrad adventure at UNLV, which continued right over into his graduate program. They talked briefly about their families – Brendon was from a small subdivision outside the city, with two other siblings and strict Mormon parents, while Ryan grew up as an only child with his dad.

Ryan ate a whole 12 piece California roll and had to admit he liked it; however, he had one piece of Brendon's Mirugai and spit it back out, which amused Brendon to no end. As they finished up, they turned the conversation to music, and yes, Ryan did like Brand New and The Decemberists, but they also had plenty of bands in common like Blink 182 and Third Eye Blind and Death Cab, and Brendon asked, "Have you heard of Vegas Limit?"

"The local band? Yeah, they're pretty good, Spence and I went to a show of theirs in high school."

"They're playing a show tomorrow night. 18+ at the 305 downtown, so I figured I could at least extend the invitation this time," Brendon smiled.

"Okay, yeah."

"Do you have early class Monday morning?"

"Yeah, eight A.M., but I guess I could skip it."

"Now Ryan, what kind of tutor would I be if I kept you out late and made you miss class in the morning?"

"Um, an awesome one?"

Brendon grinned, and said softly like he was telling a great secret, "Well, I won't tell if you won't tell."


**
Brendon had texted Ryan the next day the directions to the venue (yeah, they exchanged numbers after the sushi, Ryan wasn't making a big deal about it), and Ryan made Spencer tag along and drive (okay, not "make," Spencer was more than willing to see the mysterious tutor).

The first band was scheduled to go on at 7pm; they got there at 7:20. The small club was already packed, and it took Ryan ten minutes to find Brendon in the crowded room. Ryan finally spotted him over by the bar, beer in hand and talking to two other guys. Ryan walked up behind Brendon and said, "hey."

He turned around, and grinned. "I was wondering when I'd see you." He stepped back to let Ryan and Spencer in the circle. "This is the student I told you I was tutoring," Brendon leaned in and announced his arrival to his friends. "Ryan, meet Jon and Tom."

"Hey, you guys are in our building," Ryan said when he recognized them, instantly smiling.

"Yeah, Brendon, these two live down the hall from us. We took them to that party Michelle had awhile back," Jon said, nodding hello to Ryan and Spencer.

"Oh, this is my roommate Spencer," Ryan introduced him to Brendon.

"Loud and has an Xbox," Brendon grinned, shaking his hand.

"That's what he said? Well, you should hear what Ryan says about you," Spencer smirked, and Ryan tried to discreetly elbow him.

Brendon just chuckled. "Is that so?" He playfully threw an arm around Ryan's shoulders. "I'm just a geeky math tutor, right?"

"Brendon's actually a really talented musician," Tom spoke up, pointing at him with his beer bottle.

"And he can sing the Aladdin soundtrack like nobody's business," Jon added.

"If I recall, that was after six beers and some herbal influence, thank you very much."

Ryan just smiled and tried absorbing Brendon is this environment, but the two mental pictures he had of him weren't adding up. "Have you seen this band live a lot?" Ryan asked him.

"Oh yeah. They're good buddies. If you want, we're going to hang with them backstage after the concert, if you and Spencer want to come."

"Yeah? That's awesome."

"Great." Brendon grinned, and then turned back to get another beer.

"So why don't you do music?" Ryan called out.

Brendon turned back around. "What?"

"Why math? Why not study music?"

"Math is practical, math is universal. At least, that's what my parents say." He popped the cap to his new beer and took a sip. "I love both but...in the end, what they wanted won."

"But you're old enough now to make your own decisions, why not go for it?"

Brendon tiled his head and smiled. "So curious, are you? I'm happy with the path I've chosen. I've got the rest of my life to do music, but my education is now."

The conversation was over for now; the lights went out and the crowd started cheering. The five of them turned their attention to the stage. They hung by the bar area for most of the night; Ryan didn't really mind, since they'd be going backstage later anyway.

Later was sixty-five minutes and three more beers for Brendon, after the band was packing up. Brendon grabbed Ryan's forearm and nodded that they were heading for the stage. Ryan grabbed Spencer in turn and they made a beeline for the stage door before groupies tried weaseling their way back.

And then it was hanging with the band, jamming out in the small dressing room, hearing Brendon sing and play guitar and Ryan was kind of blown away, not seeing one ounce of math tutor in him, watching the way he was at total ease with his friends and most of all, comfortable with who he was.

Eventually, the band had to leave and the five of them, Ryan and Spencer and Brendon and Jon and Tom, were walking down a bustling Vegas strip, the night starting to wane into day.

"I don't care what anyone says about Vegas. I love this town," a still-slightly tipsy Brendon said, gesturing to all the glitz around them. "Where else can you go where you have the pyramids and the Eiffel tower and the Empire State Building all in the same place?"

Jon laughed and held Brendon around the waist. "Time to go home, buddy."

"Am I going home with you?" he asked, resting his head on Jon's shoulder.

"No, you're going back to your apartment, and we're going back to campus, with Spencer and Ryan."

Brendon, still leaning against Jon, whispered something in his ear, and Jon laughed. Ryan, who was walking on Jon's other side, asked, "What is he saying?"

"He said he'd rather go home with you," Jon said, a smirk on his face.

"Jonathan Walker, do secrets mean nothing to you?" Brendon said, and his mouth dropped.

"You never said it was a secret. Actually, I think we all knew that one already."

Ryan kept his eyes forward on the sidewalk and refused eye contact with anyone.

"Oh look, he's blushing! You made the freshmen blush!" Jon picked up Brendon and, with a heavy groan and some effort, held him in a cradle, his arm hooked under Brendon's knees. "I think I should throw you in the fountain for that."

"No! Jon, put me down!" Brendon threw his head back and laughed as Jon spun him. Ryan and Spencer just stopped on the sidewalk, unsure what to think.

Tom, who had stopped next to them, said, "They dated a few years back." He leaned in closer as he was talking. "The split was mutual, but I'm sure there's still feelings there."

There. So the cat was out of the bag. Still, it felt like a punch in Ryan's gut. He tried to act like his entire world hadn't just changed and asked casually, "how long did they date?"

"Two years. I was the designated third wheel for most of our undergrad. And then I was the middle man after they broke up and they couldn't be in the same room together. And now, we're finally all just friends again. I can't tell you how relieved I am," Tom told him with a smile.

Ryan forced a smile back; he was processing too much information to make it genuine. Jon had put Brendon down and now they were walking back up to them, out of breath and smiling. "So, I think it's way past Brendon's bedtime, we should get him to bed," Jon said. "You guys can get back to your car okay?"

"Yeah, I remember where we parked," Spencer said.

"Okay. And hey, good seeing you two again. We'll have to hang out more now. We know where you live." Jon smiled.

"Yeah, see you back at the hall." Ryan and Spencer waved and started walking back towards the venue. Brendon, who was completely occupied in trying to wrestle Jon, didn't turn to see them go, or notice Ryan had left.

Ryan just shoved his hands in his pockets and when he turned and saw a smug smile on Spencer's face, said, "Don't you dare say anything."

Spencer threw his hands up in defense. "Didn't say a word."


**
Ryan was seriously considering skipping tutoring the following week. But, then he remembered the night was only weird for him, plus Brendon had been slightly intoxicated. So all was probably fine.

But Brendon had called it quits himself after twenty minutes, looking ragged, with a few days' growth on his chin and red eyes. "Everything okay?" Ryan asked warily.

"Yeah just...it's been a long week. I did some stupid things and now I'm behind on my class work. Nothing a few red bulls won't fix." He gave a weak smile.

"What...what kind of things?" Ryan asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Brendon looked to be wrestling with himself before he spoke. "I got back with my ex and...and it was a mistake. But now it's over and my thesis is suffering, so I've got to catch up on the week I missed."

Ryan felt like there wasn't enough air in the library for him to breathe. "Oh. Okay. I'll let you get back to work then."

Just as Ryan was leaving the table, Brendon asked, "do you want to meet sometime during the week, to make up for today? We don't have to come here; we can go to my apartment. Only if you think you'll need the help, though."

"We are starting irrational numbers on Tuesday, and I have no idea what that means."

Brendon smiled. "They're really easier than they sound. Want to meet after? I'll pick you up from class; the lecture will still be fresh in your mind."

Yeah, like Ryan would be focusing on the lecture. "Okay. Text you when I get out?"

"Sure. See you then."


**
"Ryan, Ryan, we've been at this for fifteen minutes. Just remember that only square numbers have rational square roots. All you have to do is identify each of these problems, and you're done."

Ryan sighed and sunk back into the couch. "My brain hurts. Can't you do it?"

"No, that would serve no point. Just finish this, and we can do something else."

Oh? Ryan hadn't counted on them hanging out here after tutoring. "Gimme the worksheet."

And okay, really it was easy when Ryan tried; fifteen problems and it took six minutes tops, and Brendon beamed like it was all his doing for Ryan's learning and said, "Great. Glad you're catching on."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, just to make Brendon feel good about himself. He had been at his apartment a grand total of thirty minutes, Brendon waiting promptly for him after class and taking him to a complex called "Sienna Rose" that was all dusty reds and peach, ten minutes from campus. Brendon's apartment was more decorated than Ryan had imagined it to be, and extremely tidy, with one wall of his living room dedicated to his bookshelf. He only got a quick tour of the rest of the single room apartment, of the dark blue bedroom that was littered with textbooks and DVDs, and a black guitar in the corner.

Brendon got up and went to the kitchen, asking, "you want something to drink?"

"Um, water would be fine."

He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and tossed it to Ryan, and a Capri Sun for himself. Ryan caught the drink, and before he lost his nerve, he asked, "so is everything back to normal now? I mean, with that...that ex you told me about on Saturday?"

Brendon sat in the chair opposite of him. "Oh, that. Yeah, everything's fine now. Thought there was a spark again but...guess not. We're better as friends, anyway." He took a sip of his drink. Brendon quickly changed the subject and said, "want to watch something? I've got tons of DVDs."

"Okay, sure."

They settled on the first season of The Office and watched the first disc, Brendon moving to sit next to Ryan on the couch. After a while, Ryan felt himself relaxing, becoming at ease and just enjoying spending time with Brendon, as weird as it sounded in his head. But yeah. He liked spending time with his math tutor. Sure.

Brendon seemed to enjoy spending time with him too, and Ryan couldn't help but notice his proximity, how easily this would seem like a date especially since he now knew Brendon's preference, but really, it didn't bother him. It didn't bother him, and that fact didn't scare him, either.

But it was getting late so Ryan mentioned something about the time, and Brendon sat up. "Yeah, I guess I should be getting you back to campus."

Ryan stood to grab his bookbag and coat, and Brendon said, "hey, Ryan." Ryan turned around. "I want to make it up to you for acting like a drunken asshole last week after the show. There's a party that the math department is throwing next Saturday, on Halloween. It's a costume party, and we can cancel tutoring too, but only if you say yes. And wear a costume." Brendon smiled.

"Sure. As long as they're not all going to be math geeks. One in my life is enough."


**
"I look ridiculous," Ryan announced, looking at his reflection.

"You look fine. I worked hard on that, so you're wearing it." Spencer glared at him.

Ryan lifted an arm; the torn up white sheets Spencer had made to look like mummy wrappings were starting to come loose. "I think we need more glue."

"Well you're decomposing, you're not supposed to be completely wrapped." They had borrowed Haley's eyeliner to create dark circles under Ryan's eyes, too, to look truly undead. He just thought he looked stupid. But Brendon's party was in thirty minutes, and this was the best they could come up with. They were leaving with Jon and Tom, who were going as two Mexican immigrants and got away with just a couple sombreros and fake mustaches. Spencer too, with his werewolf costume – all he had was a mask.

There was a knock at their door just then – Jon and Tom, complete with cigars dangling from their lips, shouted, "Hola, amigos! Vamanos!"

Spencer grinned at their outfits when he opened the door. "And the ripped shirts and dirt stains are for...?"

"Trying to jump the fence into the country," Jon answered.

"Nice."

Ten minutes later, they were walking across campus towards the math building. Other students were about, heading to their own parties, all decked out in costume (there was a group of sorority girls that passed at one point, all dressed as pixies). Ryan's wrap was itching and rubbed with every step he took, and for being the end of October, he was sweating under his wrap. Tom had called Brendon to let them know they were on their way, and Ryan wondered how high the awkward level would be tonight between him and Jon, since he knew about their one-week "affair". It seemed like they were acting like nothing had happened, so Ryan would act like he didn't know anything, either.

Brendon was waiting for them outside, and Ryan couldn't hide his smile. He was a complete Dracula, with pale skin, deep red lips, and a cape. As they got closer he could see the fangs, and fake drops of blood at the corner of his mouth. Ryan had the strangest urge to lick them, and then shook his head. Where did that come from?

"Juan and Tomas, glad you made it past border security. I see you brought Teen Wolf with you. And what do we have here?" Brendon smirked as his gaze turned to Ryan, eyeing him up and down.

"Shut up, it was all we could think of."

"No, looks good Ross. Too bad though, you don't have any blood left for me to suck." He winked when he said it, and Ryan was sure the heat he felt wasn't entirely from the heavy sheets. "Come on in. The party is awesome. Math geeks can throw one hell of a shindig."

The second floor meeting room had been emptied to make way for a dance floor. There was a table on the left side with buckets of candy and a large punch bowl which, guessing by the energy in the room, was spiked. The best part, in Ryan's opinion, was that they had neglected to take down the posters, which held mathematical puns such as "Graphing rational functions is a pain in the asymptote," and "For a good prime call: 555.793.7319."

"See? Didn't I say it was awesome?" Brendon asked, leading them around the room.

Really, it was two-dozen nerds in Star Wars costumes playing bad techno, but Ryan just smiled and didn't say anything. Brendon was showing his geeky side, and somehow, was making it seem adorable. And he had thought math nerds were just lame and boring.

"So, Juan and I smuggled some 'illegal' substances into the country," Tom said, showing the corner of a baggie in his pocket. "It always makes Brendon's annual party much more interesting. We're going to be in the classroom next door, if Brendon asks."

"Sure," Ryan said, looking back to where Brendon was pouring them cups of punch.

He and Spencer went over to him, and Brendon said, "So they already left to get stoned?" He handed them each a glass.

"Ha, yeah." Ryan took a sip of what looked to be Kool-Aid, but tasted strongly of cheap vodka. Ryan choked it back. "Oh god, is this nail polish remover?"

Spencer winced. "The smell alone is going to make me sick."

"Oh man, I keep forgetting you're freshmen." Brendon tipped back his glass in one chug.

They hung out for another half hour, meeting some of Brendon's colleagues, making fun of the lame music, and feeling generally awkward. Around ten, Spencer told Ryan, "Haley just texted me. Her sorority is having a party. You in?"

Ryan hesitated. Brendon was on his third glass of punch, and dancing like an idiot, and Jon and Tom were buzzed, dancing around their sombreros. "Nah, I'm gonna stick here."

"She'll be mad if I don't go. You don't mind?"

"No, it's fine. See you at home."

"Okay. Call if you want a ride later."

Ryan wasn't quite sure just why he chose to stay here with Brendon instead of slutty and drunk sorority girls, but somehow, staying with Brendon seemed better.

He joined Brendon in the middle of the dance floor. "Spence left?" Brendon asked, his dark makeup bleeding down his cheek.

"Yeah. Girlfriend beckoned."

"Too bad." He grabbed Ryan's hand and spun him. "You're not dancing."

"I don't dance."

"Sure you do." The song changed to the Monster Mash, so Ryan indulged and did cheesy dance moves with Brendon, even holding his arms out stiff like a zombie and attacking Brendon. Brendon just swung his cape at him and waved it like a bat. Ryan even decided he wanted more punch, though it burned going down.

When he came back with his glass, though, Brendon had stopped dancing, and his gaze was fixed on a couple in the corner. Ryan could tell from the sombrero that it was Jon, locking lips with someone he didn't recognize. Ryan tried to break the awkwardness. "More punch?"

Brendon turned back to Ryan, looking like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, and said, "yeah." He took the drink Ryan had poured for himself and chugged it back it one gulp. Didn't matter, Ryan wasn't too fond of it anyway. "Wanna get out of here?" Brendon asked, thumbing at the door.

"Er, sure."

Brendon was walking too quickly for someone who'd had four glasses of spiked punch. Ryan kept up, but his sheets were sweaty and starting to peel off. His chest had a gap that was sagging in the middle, and he was dangerously close to a nipple slip.

Brendon slowed once there were clear of the math building, across the green grass that stretched out before the library. "Sorry just, wanted fresh air. It was a little stuffy inside."

"No problem. I was getting a little tired, anyway," Ryan said, catching up to his side.

"Want a walk home?"

"Okay."

They trudged through the grass, the night cool and a breeze creating a whoosh through the trees. In the distance, they could hear the noises of other parties in full swing.

"I'm really glad you came tonight," Brendon said.

"Yeah, me too."

"So, do you have to get home like right now?"

Ryan's pace quickened. "No, no I can hang for a little bit."

"Well I just want to sit for a moment." Brendon sunk down where he stood, folding his legs and sitting in the grass. Streetlamps lit a path up the sidewalk to the library, to the small fountain in the middle of the green. Ryan sat down next to him, quite awkwardly, ripping away most of the shreds along his thighs. Brendon couldn't help but chuckle.

"We didn't account for sitting when we designed the costume," Ryan said, putting his legs straight and smoothing the shredded sheets back across his legs. He looked over at Brendon. His dark eyes were smudged and bleary; his lips still held a hint of the fake blood from earlier, and despite the powder white makeup, the alcohol had flushed his cheeks a bit. Brendon ran a hand through his shaggy, sweaty hair, spiking it back. Ryan became overwhelmed with an unexpected urge to kiss him. He bit his lip and held back, because he knew it would just make things weird.

"Turned out to be a nice night, though. You can never see stars because of the Vegas lights, but look, there's a few out tonight." Brendon tipped his head back. His throat was smooth and Ryan had a new fantasy of nipping at his Adam's apple, a fantasy he'd never had before he met Brendon.

And then Brendon's lips parted as he breathed, and Ryan was never more aware of how soft and full they were, especially tonight with the red makeup plumping them up, and there was something about it being such a bad decision that made Ryan wanted to do it. He was feeling a little reckless. Maybe from the cup or so of fruit punch and vodka, or maybe it was some weird vampire fetish that he hadn't discovered yet, but either way, when Brendon turned his gaze back to Ryan, Ryan leaned forward and pressed his lips against Brendon's.

It lasted barely a second, because Ryan pulled back quickly, his face feeling very hot. Brendon's eyes were wide, but he was smiling. "Did you just...did you just kiss me?"

Was Ryan supposed to answer, or was Brendon just stating the obvious because he was in total disbelief? He opted out of speaking, and Brendon went on. "I didn't think you had it in you. That was bold. Really bold. Holy shit," he muttered, and then grabbed the back of Ryan's neck to kiss him again. Brendon was more forceful, pressing his lips firmly. It was still a short kiss, because Brendon wasn't done talking. "I think that makes me like you even more. For a freshmen that's bad at math, you're kind of incredible."

"Okay stop talking," Ryan interrupted, and almost pounced on Brendon, tackling him back in the grass, reconnecting their lips. Brendon chuckled through the kiss, but he held onto tufts of Ryan's hair, sort of running his fingers through it.

And then it became more serious, despite it looking increasingly ridiculous. A mummy and a vampire, laying in the middle of campus and making out, I mean come on; Ryan's embarrassment was almost outweighing his absolute gleefulness. But Brendon was pressed tight against him, his lean frame connecting in all the right places with his, his hand sliding around Ryan's hipbone. Brendon pressed further, using his hand to crash Ryan's hips into his, arching into the touch.

The move caught Ryan off guard, and he pulled back quickly. "Sorry," Ryan said, when he saw Brendon's look of surprise that they'd stopped.

"No it's...I was moving too fast."

"Yeah I'm just...just not used to this."

"It's fine." Brendon paused. "You want to go home?"

"Yeah."

They both sat up slowly, and Brendon got up first, offering Ryan a hand. He pulled him up and they started walking down the sidewalk, towards the dorms. They stayed quiet. Ryan licked his lips and they tasted like punch and costume makeup. His tongue felt thick and heavy, almost like he could still feel Brendon's. Just thinking about the seconds that had passed sent jolts through Ryan's stomach. He could never walk to the library again without thinking about what had happened.

Oh shit. Library. Tutoring. He still had to see Brendon for tutoring. Shit shit shit.