FEVERISH [RYDEN] [REPOST]

PAISELY SHIRTS

Spoiler Alert -

He saw it.

And not only did he see it, Ryan discovered, but he listened to it.

And he responded.

And that's how Ryan Ross ended up standing in the office of Brendon Urie's school, waiting for him to meet him in the front hall.

"Ryan? What's going on?"

Ryan takes a moment to gaze at the boy in front of him, letting his eyes rake down from his ebony-black hair to the tips of his shoes.

"He saw it."

There was a pause, a moment of pure silence, the last minute where they normal kids. Then..

"What do you mean."

"He didn't just see it, Brendon." Ryan whispered, taking the boy in front of him's hands in his own. "He listened." Brendon's eyes widened slightly, the deep brown of his meeting Ryan's. "And he's flying us out to meet with him."

"What?"

Ryan paused, looking at Brendon's eyes, before giving a slight nod in confirmation.

"Oh my god I could kiss you right now!"

This definitely earned an odd look from a probably-Mormon peer, but Brendon didn't see this as he was too busy throwing himself around the boy in front of him.

"Please don-" Ryan started, hugging Brendon back as he rocked them back and forth, Brendon's giddy whispers losing themself in the threads of Ryan's scarf. Ryan could feel the warmth of his arms, the slight change in the air that came with his hot breath as it seeped into his shoulder.

"Have you told-"

"They're in the car."

Brendon broke away, holding Ryan out at an arm's length like a proud mother.

"So you're pulling me out of school?"

This caused Ryan to burst into laughter.

"Of course I am, dipshit! Pete Wentz offered us a probable record deal, and you think I'm making you go back to math?"

"What about my parents?"

Ryan rolled his eyes.

"It's like skipping class. You'll be fine."

Brendon gave him a semi anxious look, an eyebrow raising, finger-twiddling, Ryan are you sure? look.

"You mean to tell me, Brendon Boyd Urie, that you have never skipped class?"

To be honest, if you captured this scene in a video-camera and then slowed it down, you would probably be able to see the suicide of Brendon Urie's reputation. The image was pretty strange, as Ryan and Brendon looked like polar opposites. Brendon stood in a crisp white shirt paired with loose jeans, right down to his semi-pointed shoes. His mormon-looking appearance wouldn't be complete without the thin silver cross that his parents forced him to wear hanging around his neck, his hair neatly brushed and his body smelling of deodorant and a tinge of cologne. Ryan Ross, however, soaked up the eyes of every passerby in his dark leather jacket, skinny jeans, and scarf. He was the exact kind of boy that the Urie's did not associate with.

The exact type of boy that a Urie Boy would not go running up to and grasp tightly.

The exact type of boy that a Urie Boy would not allow to place his arm around his waist, and guide him out the front doors and into a run-down car out front.

But then again, a lot of the Urie family's rules were being broken.

And even more of the Urie family's rules were broken as their youngest son tilted his head back and laughed, falling father into Ryan Ross's lap, his left hand clutched around a beer, letting the filthy devils-influence slide down his throat. Their rules were broken as Brendon Urie booked his plane ticket, and as he placed a giddy, drunk-and-happy induced kiss to Ryan Ross's cheek.