Oneshots | Ryden

Serenade In Blue

"Ja," Tennessee agreed, with an appalling accent, and Charlotte and Z fell about laughing again.

"Tenn," Charlotte said, "did you miss the bit where you already have an accent," and then Alex and Jon started laughing, too, and Ryan was still being squashed, and all of his friends and also his life sucked. Z was curling a lock of Tennessee's hair absently around her finger and when Ryan turned his head he saw Eric and Michael heading towards them, both with expressions of malicious delight.

Ryan sighed. He looked up and Z was watching him, half-smiling.

"I really looked funny?" he asked quietly, thinking about Brendon calling his name, Ryan's heart jumping in his throat as he pretended he hadn't heard and seized on Jon as the closest excuse nearby, the stupid, prickly feeling in his chest that he should be over now, should have been over years ago.

Z leaned forward and pushed his hair out of his face. "You looked alright," she said, and Ryan swallowed hard, nodded.

---

Ryan's history class made him feel sick every time he thought about going to it, which was a bit of a problem. It was an interesting class and he was good at it and he had it three times a week anyway, there was no avoiding it. He shuffled in, clutching his books and letting Alex guide them to the back. A quick sweep of the classroom meant he was safe for the next few minutes, so he nodded and tried to pay attention to Alex chattering about the show next week that was over eighteens, and whether or not they could sneak in.

"I can make fake IDs!" Alex said. Normally Ryan would remind him of the last time he'd tried to use one of Alex's homemade IDs, when he and Z had been laughed out of the bar, but it was his history class, so he concentrated on staring at his books and flipping open a notebook to a new page.

Ryan heard Brendon when he was still halfway down the hall, laughing and talking loudly to a friend: Shane, because Spencer was home sick with the flu. Ryan clenched his hand into a fist, stomach swooping, and watched his skin turn white as his nails dug in. Brendon was still laughing when he walked in the door, and Ryan didn't have to look up to know that Shane was by his side. Brendon was probably hanging off Shane, an arm around his neck or clutching at his wrist. Shane had a girlfriend, but Brendon had no sense of personal space, and oh, fuck, Ryan wanted Brendon to touch him like that so much, to touch him at all, he was buzzing and miserable with it.

"Hey," Brendon said suddenly, and Ryan wished the rest of the class would quiet down a bit, so that he could spy creepily on Brendon's conversations with more ease. "Hey, uh," Brendon was saying, and Ryan flipped through his textbook, looking for a page to keep himself from looking up, being obvious.

Then Brendon said, too loud, "Oh-h darling!" and it took Ryan the next line to realise that Brendon was singing, the rest of the class sniggering and laughing as Brendon continued, "Please be-lieve me!"

Ryan hid his phone under the desk with shaking hands, texted Z: he's doing it again.

Z replied almost immediately. what, being perfect?

Ryan scowled, slipping his phone away without replying. Ms Harris walked in and said, "Brendon Urie, sit down," and then, "Okay, guys, look this way."

Ryan looked up just as Brendon sat down and craned his head over his shoulder to peer at Ryan, eyes dark and anxious, biting his lip. Ryan looked away so quickly he thought he might have permanently injured his neck, but it was worth it to keep himself from staring at Brendon's mouth, trying not to think about biting Brendon's lip himself, licking it and holding Brendon as close as he could get.

Z was a bitch, Ryan thought miserably, who took far too much pleasure in Ryan's pain, and he wouldn't dignify her text with a response. But also: yeah, sort of.