(I Am the Derivative and You Are the Curves)

Part Two

Well, at least he didn't have to see him for a whole week, Ryan thought as he walked the steps up to his room (Brendon had just said 'I'll see ya soon' and waved goodbye). Maybe by then, the details of the night would be blurry. Maybe they'd even laugh about it.

But they didn't make it to Saturday. Tuesday night, just when Ryan was forgetting the way it felt to have Brendon's hips against his, his phone rang.

"Hey, you," Brendon greeted. "How were classes today?"

Small talk? "They were fine, pop quiz in math. I was going to tell you about it on Saturday."

"How'd you do?"

"Lousy. I had a hard time focusing."

Brendon chuckled, and it sounded husky and deep over the phone. "Don't blame you." Was he talking about Halloween? Ryan was so bad at talking about things.

"Um, yeah." Awkwardawkwardawkward.

"I'll come over, and give you some help. If you want. Is Spence there?"

"No, he's at Haley's."

"Be there in fifteen?"

"Yeah. Okay. See you then."

**

How the hell did Ryan have the courage to kiss Brendon just three days ago? Now, he was a nervous, pacing mess, waiting for his knock. On top of it all, Brendon's ex lived just a few doors down, and oh god what if Jon heard them? What if Jon barged in? What if Ryan had to admit he knew about Jon the whole time?

Too many questions. Too many scenarios. Deep breaths. And then, a knock at his door.

And when he opened it and saw his smiling face, his standard plaid shirt and thick glasses, he smiled back and felt himself relax. "Hey, come in."

Brendon came in with his copy of Ryan's math book in hand and a pencil stuck behind his ear. So he was serious about the whole helping him thing. Oh.

"How um...how've you been?" Ryan asked, hands nervously jammed in pockets. Brendon was in his room. Brendon was sitting down on his bed. Oh man.

"Okay. Helluva hangover Sunday, but good otherwise." He looked around Ryan's small dorm room. "I remember spending time in these dorms. Looks the same as Jon's."

Yeah, Jon. Time to change to subject. "So the quiz was just ten questions, but I think I got six of them wrong."

As hoped, Brendon turned a shocked face back to Ryan. "Six? Jeez Ryan, you failed. And I thought you were doing good."

"Yeah, me too." So, it was probably only three or four, but he needed a distraction.

"Well, maybe..." Brendon picked at a thread loose on Ryan's blanket. "Maybe we shouldn't spend that much time together outside of tutoring. I mean, if it's going to be a distraction. Grades come first. If you drop below a B minus, I lose my tutoring job, which means I lose my funding."

"Okay." That worked for him; Ryan didn't have to deal with that whole "let's take this slow" speech he had in his head. He let out a relaxed breath. "That's fine. I mean, just until my grades get back up." He felt comfortable enough even to sit next to Brendon on the bed.

"Right, just until your grades get back up." He turned to look at Ryan, and oh, maybe this was a bad decision, because Brendon's face – no, moreso mouth – was dangerously close to Ryan's, and Saturday night started playing on repeat in his brain.

"So, when's your next exam?" Brendon asked in a low voice.

Ryan had a hard time remembering his last name at this point. "Uhhh...." He shut his eyes for a second to think. "November...seventeenth? Two weeks, I guess."