The Vast Fields of Ordinary

Tripping Eyes and Flooded Lungs

"Mom, is it alright if I go to Ryan's for the night?"

Mom pauses her vegetable chopping, to turn and give me a curious look. Okay, granted, I never go anywhere, so her confusion at my asking is reasonable.

"You, Brendon Boyd Urie, my son, want to go over to someone's house?"

I think the awkward in the room is tangible. "Yes...?" I push up my glasses on the bridge of my nose and fiddle uncomfortably with the hem of my "I'm a fermata, hold me" shirt.

She nods, "Okay, be back before ten tomorrow, we're going to visit Grandma Urie."

I don't know who's more surprised at my sudden sociability with people of my own age, her or me.

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Behind closed doors, contrary to my expectations, Ryan isn't rude or trying to feel me up (though I don't know if I'd stop him. Fuck I need to pray more or something, I can't be thinking blasphemous things like this about another boy). He's very chill, and wants to talk, learn things about me. He doesn't even sit overly close to me, even though we're lounging on his bed. The most affectionate things he's done all evening is hug me hello, push my glasses up for me, and occasionally touch my shoulder during conversation.

There's still an edge to him, though, this sad, angry aura that hangs around him, darkening those pretty eyes.

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I wake up warm, too warm, to someone whispering my name. "No..." I mumble, snuggling closer to this wonderfully warm, cosy thing wrapped around me. It's squishy, but sort of hard at the same time, and smells like aftershave and something spicy. I feel safe and--

It hits me that I'm fucking cuddling with Ryan.

I push myself away, flailing like an octopus, managing to fall off of Ryan's bed, onto the carpet below.

"Looks like we took your shirt too seriously, Bren." Ryan's voice sounds like he's laughing, and he is, I discover, as he peers over the edge of the bed, to me on the floor.

"Sorry, Ry." I blush, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "I'm not used to waking up in someone's arms."

Ryan leans over and offers me his hand. I accept, letting him pull me back up to the bed. His gaze catches mine.

"It was sort of...nice, though?" His voice inflects upwards, making him sound unsure. And I thought I was the confused one.

"Yeah...nice."

Thanks to everyone putting up with this trashcan of a fic. Your comments and votes are much appreciated!