gasoline ( DISCONTINUED )

02 - bad medicine

' I don't need no needle to be giving me a thrill

and I don't need no anesthesia or a nurse to bring a pill  '

Music class - the only class I could kind of 'do'. There was just something different about music, something that separated it from things like numbers and formulas. Maybe it was that I actually wanted to do well. I didn't care about the other subjects; they only brought headaches, stress, or worse. Music cleared those things, no matter whether I was listening or playing.

I looked around the class, my eyes stopping on Brendon for a fraction of a second before I forced them to move on. He wasn't paying attention - of course he wasn't. Brendon Urie fucking aced music, all instruments. It wasn't fair, he didn't give a shit about this class and yet he was top of it. People like that pissed me off - it's like their good luck was written by gods. My guardian angel must have been a fucking sadist.

He was messing up his hair. 'Messing up' is the wrong word; if anything, he was fixing it by running his hands carelessly through it. Fucking Brendon Urie and his fucking courteous angel from above.

How could he have looked so helpless just five hours ago? Memories of the previous day's events came rushing back to me in a shock as I turned my gaze back to the desk in front of me. He now looked as if he could punch someone and they'd thank him - well, he at least looked as if he believed that.

"Ryan!"

Vic nudged the arm I had been resting my head on. As an amazing display of strength, my arm gave out, and my head smacked onto the table. What else are friends for, other than publicly humiliating you?

"Ow, Vic!" I flushed red as the whole room looked at me. Upon further awkward eye contact, I realized they were all collecting their respective instruments. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. You zoned out for ages there - you okay? Daydreaming?" He moved his eyebrows suggestively, and tilted his head in Brendon's direction. I just lay my head back onto the desk in response, cursing Kellin for not taking this class and keeping his boyfriend in check. Not that he would've been much better.

"Fuentes!" I shot up at as a dog-like bark fled onto the scene, blushing to realize Brendon and his friends were looking straight in our direction. But of course the center of attention wasn't talking to me, Vic had always been more popular. And as found out yesterday - this morning - Brendon wasn't even aware of my existence. How terribly cliche that sounded.

Vic sighed and shook his head as he they asked if he would play guitar for their 'band', "I'm with Ry."

"Ry? Who the hell is Ry?"

I meekly cleared my throat, "R-Ryan. Hi."

Brendon's eyes widened to double their size as he fully took me in. The stuttering would've been cute if I hadn't been so mortified, and if I wasn't so certain that my cheeks were turning a red brighter than our teacher's choice of tie. Instead, I found his stumbling to be exasperating. "Th-the boy at the park?"

My nodded confirmation of who I was only seemed to make his surprise worsen. Slowly pushing my chair back, I realized his eyes were following my every move, "Uh... Yeah."

"Ryan, come with me," the boy gestured behind him with a vicious glare.

--

Two minutes. Two minutes was the space of time it took me to completely lose my shit.

Two minutes was enough for Brendon to pull me into the supply closet and shove me down onto the floor between the trombones and tubas. Two minutes allowed him to sit himself down on a neatly made throne of board cleaner canisters. It also allowed him enough time to clear his rough throat and crack his neck.

I still had no idea why we were there - it wasn't like we'd ever so much as spoken before earlier in the park, and it wasn't like I was much of a threat. If he'd been wanting to add a shining bruise to my cheek, why hadn't he just done so out there? It would've given him more kudos that way.

"Ryan. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. Fucking Ryan."

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my back. It was all I could do to simply nod in response.

"Well, Ryan, we're not going to tell anyone, are we?"

"A-about what?"

"What do you think?"

His words had an underlying tone of menace, though he managed to keep them relatively calm. I thought over every single word before I replied, "About... About you, y-yesterday, at the park?"

"Not just me Ryan, you were at the park too. And I can choose the circumstances that whole encounter happened under, y'know? People listen to what I've got to say."

I could just imagine the part that was to follow: 'unlike you.'

After that, we encompassed ourselves in an uncertain state of silence. I let my eyes wonder around the room, taking everything in - looking anywhere but him. I could tell out the corner of my eye he was doing the exact opposite. Just as he took in a sharp breath, it happened.

Brendon Urie fell off his board-cleaner throne, pulling the entire shelf behind him down too.

I sat there, stunned, as he flailed around yelling curse words. And then, the next worse thing to being trapped in a confined space with the class' king happened. The door creaked open.

"Ross, Urie, detention. I hope you know that I do not tolerate fighting in my class."