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piecesof_reesesSo. Um. I wrote fic? A high school au, no less. Because obviously there aren't enough of those cluttering the internet. *hands* Um, there's this picture of Spencer and Ryan somewhere in cyberspace that shows them in--gasp--normal kid clothes. And...apparently my mind went here. Yeah, I don't know either.
This was actually posted to the slashatthedisco comm a week back, but I'm posting it here as well for convenience.
Title: The High School Knows Something I Don't Know
Author:piecesof_reeses
Rating: PG
Summary: So, Brendon likes this girl, right? And this really shouldn't be that big a deal. But then Ryan gets involved. And everything kind of goes straight to hell. High school au
Disclaimer: Yeah, no. I wish. Maybe in a different plane?
Additionally! A million thanks tochaoticallyclev for putting up with my anal retentive-ness and being the awesomest beta ever! You win at life.
Also, warning for erratic canon use. It's a self-indulgent au, okay? *justifies*
The girl shook her hair back, fingers tapping impatiently against the binder clasped loosely in her arms. Her eyes bored into the wall behind Brendon. Finally, she opened her mouth. “Um, I’m sorry, did you, like, want something?”
Brendon blinked, fidgeted, and licked his lips compulsively before replying. “Yeah, so, uh, I was wondering if…” He trailed off into an unintelligible mumble, staring at the floor determinedly. The wink of the sun reflecting off the polished gray tiles glared into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. Shit.
Rubbing his eyes clumsily, Brendon tried to start over. “I--”
She cut him off. “Look, I, like, really need to get going. You know, for class.” Her blue eyes flicked from the wall to him, and she eyed him for a moment warily, like she was trying to decide if he was mentally handicapped or just plain stupid. “So…See you. Around.”
Brendon watched her hips miserably as she walked quickly away, her relief all too obvious at having escaped.
* * *
“Dude,” Ryan said eloquently.
Next to Ryan, Spencer rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother,” he advised, mangling his words around a mouthful of cafeteria mystery meat. “This is, what, the fourth time already? “
“Man, I know, I just need to, like, get past the first five syllables.” Brendon picked at his corndog listlessly. “I just…Whenever I look at her, I can’t talk. She…She’s just so…”
“Out of your league?” Ryan supplied dryly. “Look, you can’t just start off asking Hannah out. Does she even know your name?” He went on without waiting for an answer. “You have to start slow, get to know her; girls like that kind of shit. And then before she knows it, you guys are on her bed, getting to third base.” Ryan nodded wisely, popping another fry into his mouth.
Spencer snorted.
Brendon looked at Ryan, unimpressed.
“Hey, dude, I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been with Elise for-“
“Two years, yeah, we know. Since middle school. Where, according to Spencer, you asked her out on the first day of school.” Brendon raised his eyebrow. “So isn’t it kind of hypocritical of you to say I shouldn’t ask her out first thing?”
“Whatever.” Ryan smirked. “It’s your love life. Or lack of one.”
Brendon pushed at him ineffectually--Ryan was a bitch sometimes--then settled for stealing a fry.
They were quiet for a moment, the silence broken only by the sound of chewing and swallowing. Suddenly, Ryan sat up straight, eyes gleaming. Brendon exchanged a wary glance with Spencer. He knew that look.
“I have an idea,” he proclaimed.
Spencer sighed and rubbed at his forehead.
* * *
“C’mon, man, you’ve got this. Operation BSH, take five.” Ryan clapped Brendon on the shoulder, before striding off to wait behind a convenient locker.
Brendon gulped. It was the day after his fourth disastrous attempt at asking Hannah out. During their lunch period, Ryan had outlined a plan (called Operation: Brendon Seduces Hannah, which Spencer wanted to rename Operation: Brendon’s Social Humiliation, but whatever, he was a stupid loser without any girlfriend prospects). The plan seemed to involve a teddy bear, some pop tarts, and an umbrella, but most importantly included Brendon asking her for tutoring. In math. Where Brendon had a D, and Hannah was barely squeaking by with a C. Brendon was the eternal optimist, but even he knew this was never going to work.
At his indecision, a spindly hand planted straight in his back, and propelled him forward until he stood, somewhat involuntarily, right in front of Hannah.
“Oh, it’s you.” The ‘again’ went unsaid. She pursed her lips. “Sorry, it’s Brian, right?”
Brendon wanted to die. Or kill Ryan; he wasn’t really picky at this point. “Um, haha, close enough, yeah?”
He tried to smile invitingly, but not so much as to come off as creepy. Ryan had explained that there was a subtle, but very distinct, difference. Ryan had seemed to need to glance at Gabe, the lone senior in their art class, a lot while making this point.
Hannah didn’t smile back. Her hand found its way to her face, where she twirled a strand of brown hair.
Brendon cleared his throat. “It’s Brendon, actually.” He looked at Hannah for any response or hint of recognition, but she just stood there, staring. He continued awkwardly. “So, we’re in Algebra together.”
“Right.” Hannah didn’t say ‘so what?’ but Brendon was good at reading between the lines. What the hell had compelled him to listen to Ryan, of all people? The guy who thought rose-covered vests were an acceptable clothing choice. Spencer was right, four attempts were three too many. Attempting a fifth time was taking a headfirst dive into a pool of pathetic.
“So I noticed that you seemed to understand a lot of the new material we’ve been going over. I’ve, uh, I’ve been having some trouble.” Here Brendon offered up another smile, which Ryan specified should make him look sheepish yet endearing. “So, I was wondering if you could maybe help me go over some of the stuff one of these days. I know we have a test coming up, and I really can’t afford to fail it.” This part, at least, wasn’t a lie.
“Um, we do have a teacher,” Hannah said slowly. “It’s kind of his job to explain this stuff to us.”
Brendon snuck a furtive look over his shoulder at Ryan, desperately trying to come up with something, anything. Ryan was too busy reapplying his eye make-up to notice.
“Mr. Hartford really hates me,” Brendon bullshitted wildly. “I, ah, I already asked him, in fact, and he said something about not having enough time. Plus he gave me a really dirty look.”
Hannah giggled. “Yeah, I think that’s kind of his default expression." She bit her lip. "Um, I guess I have some time over the weekend. I’m not really too sure on the new material either, but, like, I guess we could figure it out together.”
Brendon goggled at her. A finger poked him in the back, hard. “Cool, yeah. Um, I’ll call you! Or, well…” He fumbled around in his pockets for his cell phone. He finally wrenched it out, and handed it to her, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans surreptitiously.
She punched the numbers in, and then handed it back with a smile. “I’ll see you later, then, Brendon.”
Brendon stood there, shocked, just holding the phone in one loose hand. Did that actually just happen? He looked down, unwilling to believe his luck. Hannah’s digits flashed back at him brightly.
“Shit, I told you it would work!” Ryan had come up behind him, and swung an arm around his shoulders. “You guys should listen to me more often; I have the best plans.”
Brendon barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Shut up, I’m basking in the moment, here.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
Brendon grinned back. “Shit. Shit. I’m going over to Hannah’s house this weekend! Dude!” He whooped, punching both arms into the air before putting them around Ryan, hugging him tightly (in a very manly manner).
Ryan just smiled smugly.
* * *
“Okay, so this is what’s going to happen.” Ryan scribbled something down on a piece of paper marked BSH. “When you go in, make sure to walk in front of her so you can sit on the bed. That’ll kind of suggest, you know, that you guys should work there instead of at the desk. The bed is a much more strategic location because you can scoot closer all stealthy, yeah, and she’ll never even notice until your arm’s around her. Plus it sets the stage for possible make-outs.” He looked at Brendon, helpfully gesticulating in the air to illustrate those ‘possible make-outs.’
Brendon nodded distractedly, tucking his chin over Ryan’s shoulder to peer at the paper. “Bed, make-outs, yeah.” He looked at Ryan for a second, who seemed a little flustered. A tinge of red was moving from his cheeks down his neck. “Something wrong?” Brendon asked curiously, breath ghosting over Ryan’s ear.
Ryan glared. “I’m fine.” He shrugged his shoulder roughly to displace Brendon’s head. Brendon watched, fascinated, as the redness slowly marched down Ryan’s neck, coloring the usually pale skin an appealing pink. Shaking his head slightly, (Ryan could be seriously weird) Brendon went back to reading the paper.
“Hey man, why did you write down duct-tape over here?”
“Oh. You know.” Ryan shrugged. “As Plan B, in case the whole tutoring thing went belly up.”
“Plan B?” Brendon paused. “Dude, what were you going to do, use the duct tape to tape her up and kidnap her?” he asked jokingly.
Ryan looked shifty. Brendon stared.
After a few moments, Ryan changed the subject. “So, make sure to, like, take a break every now and then and talk about something else, so she doesn’t think you’re all about the studying. Also, try to avoid talking about Disney, and don’t wear sunglasses indoors; girls think it’s stupid or something…”
* * *
They had been studying for about an hour now, and in Brendon’s opinion, things were getting along really well. He’d removed his sunglasses when he came in, given her the teddy bear as “thanks for doing this for me, seriously, I was totally going to fail the class,” and complimented her house’s interior. They were now sitting on the bed, exactly according to plan. Slowly, he’d inched closer to her, and made sure to compliment her whenever he had the opening. She had looked a little unnerved, which was good, though. Ryan had said that it was bad if a girl looked too comfortable, because that meant there was no chemistry.
Brendon smiled to himself, giddy with the fact that he was actually sitting on the same bed as Hannah Allens. And she wasn’t even knocked out or tied up or whatever crazy shit Ryan could come up with. He scooched a little closer again, until his knee was a centimeter away from bumping into hers.
“Brendon, are you even listening to me?” Hannah sounded a little exasperated.
He looked at her quickly, lips twitching up in a guilty smile. “I was, really, you were talking about linear regressions, right?”
“Yeah, I was.” She sounded mollified.
Brendon grinned, relieved, and hey, maybe now was the time to take the next step Ryan had coached him on.
“Do it casually, Bren, or as casual as you can ever get.” An affectionate eye-roll. “Just sort of drape it over her shoulders, yeah? Not too heavy, and lean towards her a little bit. The trick is to not freak her out, but still give her the impression that you might be interested.” Ryan had demonstrated helpfully, his thin arm a surprisingly warm and secure weight over Brendon’s shoulders.
Brendon raised his arm up tentatively, slowly bringing it around her back, and then gingerly lowering it onto Hannah’s lovely shoulders.
She stopped talking in the middle of a sentence.
Shit. Was it too sudden? Not casual enough? Brendon tried leaning towards her, as per Ryan’s instructions.
“Okay, wow.” Hannah laughed uncomfortably. “It kind of feels like you’re coming on to me.” At Brendon’s alarmed expression, she rushed to clarify, “I mean, I know that you don’t swing this way; heck, everyone knows, but, like, you’re still kind of making me uncomfortable. I’m not really that touchy-feely with my friends.”
Brendon gaped at her, and managed to spit out, “Um, what?” It felt like the words were coming in through his ears and then getting all jumbled up in his brain, because, seriously? You don’t swing this way? Yeah, no. He definitely heard wrong.
“Oh god, I am so sorry, were you trying to keep it a secret? Although, I mean, it’s kind of obvious, you having, like, a boyfriend and all. What’s his name again, Ron?”
“Ryan,” Brendon corrected weakly.
“Right. Ryan.” Hannah sat back and looked satisfied.
“I mean, I mean, not that we’re boyfriends. Because, well, we’re not,” Brendon said quickly, the rest of the conversation catching up with him. “I mean, like, he’s dating! A girl! Her name’s Elise, she doesn’t go to this school, but--”
“It’s okay, I get it.” She smiled reassuringly.
“You do?” Brendon breathed.
“Yeah, sure. My lips are firmly sealed. No one will know about you and Ron from me!” Hannah mimed locking them and throwing the key away.
Brendon lowered his head into his hands.
What the hell had just happened? All he'd wanted to do was put his arm around her shoulders! And it had all gone downhill from there…
“So, let’s work on some quadratic equations, shall we?” Hannah chirped. “Ooh, here are some nice practice problems we can do!”
* * *
Brendon walked along the deserted street slowly, shoulders slumped, feet dragging along the ground. Without even thinking about it, his body turned left, automatically leading him to Ryan’s house.
What was going on? He was completely and totally straight. And Ryan was like a brother to him. Well, maybe a really hot, bossy, and mostly annoying step-brother. Still. And that other thing she’d said! Everyone knows. Brendon shuddered. He had no idea he was giving out such strong gay vibes!
Although, come to think of it, this might be why the president of the Gay/Straight Alliance always gave him such a betrayed look whenever he walked by their booth without signing up.
And kept trying to speak to him with a hand on his shoulder, or face, or arm.
And talked really loudly that one time about how Brendon was the most misguided, self-denying person he had ever met.
Brendon frowned. That guy was really rude.
He looked up to see that he was in front of Ryan’s door, and turned the knob to let himself in. Ryan always forgot to lock it when his dad wasn't home.
“Hey dude,” Ryan greeted around a pizza pocket. “How’d it go?”
“It was terrible!” Brendon lamented, glad to finally have someone other than the occasional street lamp to spill his troubles. “All I did was try to put my arm around her shoulders, like you said, and she suddenly burst out with this whole rant about how I was making her feel uncomfortable! And--” Brendon looked around cautiously, before continuing in a whisper, “she thought I was gay!! Can you believe that?”
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Wordless, he offered his pizza pocket to Brendon. Brendon grabbed it and tore a bite out, chewing furiously on the rubbery snack.
“And that’s not all!” Brendon sighed and gulped the pizza pocket down. “She said everyone knew that I was…gay.” Brendon mouthed the last word. “And-and she thought we were boyfriends! That Elise was a cover for our…passionate homosexuality!!”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “Us? She thought we were together?” His usual monotone had completely disappeared.
“Yeah, man. That girl is a raving lunatic. I should be glad that I didn’t, you know, actually ask her out.”
Ryan was pacing the floor now, blinking rapidly as he tried to think. “Dude, we have to do something about this.” Brendon nodded vigorously in agreement. “If the whole school thinks we’re together…” Ryan broke off, looking haunted.
“This is terrible,” Brendon reiterated. “But…what can we do?”
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “I have an idea.”
Brendon looked at him nervously.
* * *
“Ryan. Ryan, I really don’t think this is a good look for me.” Brendon stared mournfully down at himself. “I mean, I think I can actually fit my wallet into these pants. And my keys. I don’t think I’ve been able to do that since the fourth grade…” He poked at the heavy folds of denim unhappily.
“Shut up, this is perfect.” Ryan was carefully positioning a baseball cap on his head. A gigantic T-shirt hung down to his knees. Brendon could see Ryan’s eye make-up kit sitting all forlorn and—Brendon can’t even bear to think it—unused on the side of the table.
It was like the apocalypse.
“But Ryan,” he began desperately, “we look like wannabe skaters. Who listen to metal. Or something.” Brendon waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Ryan, I love the Beatles!”
“Come on. Focus on the goal.” He looked at Brendon sternly. “People think guys who dress like this are totally, 100% straight.” Ryan paused. “I think I’m gonna need a belt, though. My pants are falling down.”
End.
This was actually posted to the slashatthedisco comm a week back, but I'm posting it here as well for convenience.
Title: The High School Knows Something I Don't Know
Author:
piecesof_reeses Rating: PG
Summary: So, Brendon likes this girl, right? And this really shouldn't be that big a deal. But then Ryan gets involved. And everything kind of goes straight to hell. High school au
Disclaimer: Yeah, no. I wish. Maybe in a different plane?
Additionally! A million thanks to
chaoticallyclev for putting up with my anal retentive-ness and being the awesomest beta ever! You win at life.Also, warning for erratic canon use. It's a self-indulgent au, okay? *justifies*
The girl shook her hair back, fingers tapping impatiently against the binder clasped loosely in her arms. Her eyes bored into the wall behind Brendon. Finally, she opened her mouth. “Um, I’m sorry, did you, like, want something?”
Brendon blinked, fidgeted, and licked his lips compulsively before replying. “Yeah, so, uh, I was wondering if…” He trailed off into an unintelligible mumble, staring at the floor determinedly. The wink of the sun reflecting off the polished gray tiles glared into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. Shit.
Rubbing his eyes clumsily, Brendon tried to start over. “I--”
She cut him off. “Look, I, like, really need to get going. You know, for class.” Her blue eyes flicked from the wall to him, and she eyed him for a moment warily, like she was trying to decide if he was mentally handicapped or just plain stupid. “So…See you. Around.”
Brendon watched her hips miserably as she walked quickly away, her relief all too obvious at having escaped.
* * *
“Dude,” Ryan said eloquently.
Next to Ryan, Spencer rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother,” he advised, mangling his words around a mouthful of cafeteria mystery meat. “This is, what, the fourth time already? “
“Man, I know, I just need to, like, get past the first five syllables.” Brendon picked at his corndog listlessly. “I just…Whenever I look at her, I can’t talk. She…She’s just so…”
“Out of your league?” Ryan supplied dryly. “Look, you can’t just start off asking Hannah out. Does she even know your name?” He went on without waiting for an answer. “You have to start slow, get to know her; girls like that kind of shit. And then before she knows it, you guys are on her bed, getting to third base.” Ryan nodded wisely, popping another fry into his mouth.
Spencer snorted.
Brendon looked at Ryan, unimpressed.
“Hey, dude, I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been with Elise for-“
“Two years, yeah, we know. Since middle school. Where, according to Spencer, you asked her out on the first day of school.” Brendon raised his eyebrow. “So isn’t it kind of hypocritical of you to say I shouldn’t ask her out first thing?”
“Whatever.” Ryan smirked. “It’s your love life. Or lack of one.”
Brendon pushed at him ineffectually--Ryan was a bitch sometimes--then settled for stealing a fry.
They were quiet for a moment, the silence broken only by the sound of chewing and swallowing. Suddenly, Ryan sat up straight, eyes gleaming. Brendon exchanged a wary glance with Spencer. He knew that look.
“I have an idea,” he proclaimed.
Spencer sighed and rubbed at his forehead.
* * *
“C’mon, man, you’ve got this. Operation BSH, take five.” Ryan clapped Brendon on the shoulder, before striding off to wait behind a convenient locker.
Brendon gulped. It was the day after his fourth disastrous attempt at asking Hannah out. During their lunch period, Ryan had outlined a plan (called Operation: Brendon Seduces Hannah, which Spencer wanted to rename Operation: Brendon’s Social Humiliation, but whatever, he was a stupid loser without any girlfriend prospects). The plan seemed to involve a teddy bear, some pop tarts, and an umbrella, but most importantly included Brendon asking her for tutoring. In math. Where Brendon had a D, and Hannah was barely squeaking by with a C. Brendon was the eternal optimist, but even he knew this was never going to work.
At his indecision, a spindly hand planted straight in his back, and propelled him forward until he stood, somewhat involuntarily, right in front of Hannah.
“Oh, it’s you.” The ‘again’ went unsaid. She pursed her lips. “Sorry, it’s Brian, right?”
Brendon wanted to die. Or kill Ryan; he wasn’t really picky at this point. “Um, haha, close enough, yeah?”
He tried to smile invitingly, but not so much as to come off as creepy. Ryan had explained that there was a subtle, but very distinct, difference. Ryan had seemed to need to glance at Gabe, the lone senior in their art class, a lot while making this point.
Hannah didn’t smile back. Her hand found its way to her face, where she twirled a strand of brown hair.
Brendon cleared his throat. “It’s Brendon, actually.” He looked at Hannah for any response or hint of recognition, but she just stood there, staring. He continued awkwardly. “So, we’re in Algebra together.”
“Right.” Hannah didn’t say ‘so what?’ but Brendon was good at reading between the lines. What the hell had compelled him to listen to Ryan, of all people? The guy who thought rose-covered vests were an acceptable clothing choice. Spencer was right, four attempts were three too many. Attempting a fifth time was taking a headfirst dive into a pool of pathetic.
“So I noticed that you seemed to understand a lot of the new material we’ve been going over. I’ve, uh, I’ve been having some trouble.” Here Brendon offered up another smile, which Ryan specified should make him look sheepish yet endearing. “So, I was wondering if you could maybe help me go over some of the stuff one of these days. I know we have a test coming up, and I really can’t afford to fail it.” This part, at least, wasn’t a lie.
“Um, we do have a teacher,” Hannah said slowly. “It’s kind of his job to explain this stuff to us.”
Brendon snuck a furtive look over his shoulder at Ryan, desperately trying to come up with something, anything. Ryan was too busy reapplying his eye make-up to notice.
“Mr. Hartford really hates me,” Brendon bullshitted wildly. “I, ah, I already asked him, in fact, and he said something about not having enough time. Plus he gave me a really dirty look.”
Hannah giggled. “Yeah, I think that’s kind of his default expression." She bit her lip. "Um, I guess I have some time over the weekend. I’m not really too sure on the new material either, but, like, I guess we could figure it out together.”
Brendon goggled at her. A finger poked him in the back, hard. “Cool, yeah. Um, I’ll call you! Or, well…” He fumbled around in his pockets for his cell phone. He finally wrenched it out, and handed it to her, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans surreptitiously.
She punched the numbers in, and then handed it back with a smile. “I’ll see you later, then, Brendon.”
Brendon stood there, shocked, just holding the phone in one loose hand. Did that actually just happen? He looked down, unwilling to believe his luck. Hannah’s digits flashed back at him brightly.
“Shit, I told you it would work!” Ryan had come up behind him, and swung an arm around his shoulders. “You guys should listen to me more often; I have the best plans.”
Brendon barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Shut up, I’m basking in the moment, here.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
Brendon grinned back. “Shit. Shit. I’m going over to Hannah’s house this weekend! Dude!” He whooped, punching both arms into the air before putting them around Ryan, hugging him tightly (in a very manly manner).
Ryan just smiled smugly.
* * *
“Okay, so this is what’s going to happen.” Ryan scribbled something down on a piece of paper marked BSH. “When you go in, make sure to walk in front of her so you can sit on the bed. That’ll kind of suggest, you know, that you guys should work there instead of at the desk. The bed is a much more strategic location because you can scoot closer all stealthy, yeah, and she’ll never even notice until your arm’s around her. Plus it sets the stage for possible make-outs.” He looked at Brendon, helpfully gesticulating in the air to illustrate those ‘possible make-outs.’
Brendon nodded distractedly, tucking his chin over Ryan’s shoulder to peer at the paper. “Bed, make-outs, yeah.” He looked at Ryan for a second, who seemed a little flustered. A tinge of red was moving from his cheeks down his neck. “Something wrong?” Brendon asked curiously, breath ghosting over Ryan’s ear.
Ryan glared. “I’m fine.” He shrugged his shoulder roughly to displace Brendon’s head. Brendon watched, fascinated, as the redness slowly marched down Ryan’s neck, coloring the usually pale skin an appealing pink. Shaking his head slightly, (Ryan could be seriously weird) Brendon went back to reading the paper.
“Hey man, why did you write down duct-tape over here?”
“Oh. You know.” Ryan shrugged. “As Plan B, in case the whole tutoring thing went belly up.”
“Plan B?” Brendon paused. “Dude, what were you going to do, use the duct tape to tape her up and kidnap her?” he asked jokingly.
Ryan looked shifty. Brendon stared.
After a few moments, Ryan changed the subject. “So, make sure to, like, take a break every now and then and talk about something else, so she doesn’t think you’re all about the studying. Also, try to avoid talking about Disney, and don’t wear sunglasses indoors; girls think it’s stupid or something…”
* * *
They had been studying for about an hour now, and in Brendon’s opinion, things were getting along really well. He’d removed his sunglasses when he came in, given her the teddy bear as “thanks for doing this for me, seriously, I was totally going to fail the class,” and complimented her house’s interior. They were now sitting on the bed, exactly according to plan. Slowly, he’d inched closer to her, and made sure to compliment her whenever he had the opening. She had looked a little unnerved, which was good, though. Ryan had said that it was bad if a girl looked too comfortable, because that meant there was no chemistry.
Brendon smiled to himself, giddy with the fact that he was actually sitting on the same bed as Hannah Allens. And she wasn’t even knocked out or tied up or whatever crazy shit Ryan could come up with. He scooched a little closer again, until his knee was a centimeter away from bumping into hers.
“Brendon, are you even listening to me?” Hannah sounded a little exasperated.
He looked at her quickly, lips twitching up in a guilty smile. “I was, really, you were talking about linear regressions, right?”
“Yeah, I was.” She sounded mollified.
Brendon grinned, relieved, and hey, maybe now was the time to take the next step Ryan had coached him on.
“Do it casually, Bren, or as casual as you can ever get.” An affectionate eye-roll. “Just sort of drape it over her shoulders, yeah? Not too heavy, and lean towards her a little bit. The trick is to not freak her out, but still give her the impression that you might be interested.” Ryan had demonstrated helpfully, his thin arm a surprisingly warm and secure weight over Brendon’s shoulders.
Brendon raised his arm up tentatively, slowly bringing it around her back, and then gingerly lowering it onto Hannah’s lovely shoulders.
She stopped talking in the middle of a sentence.
Shit. Was it too sudden? Not casual enough? Brendon tried leaning towards her, as per Ryan’s instructions.
“Okay, wow.” Hannah laughed uncomfortably. “It kind of feels like you’re coming on to me.” At Brendon’s alarmed expression, she rushed to clarify, “I mean, I know that you don’t swing this way; heck, everyone knows, but, like, you’re still kind of making me uncomfortable. I’m not really that touchy-feely with my friends.”
Brendon gaped at her, and managed to spit out, “Um, what?” It felt like the words were coming in through his ears and then getting all jumbled up in his brain, because, seriously? You don’t swing this way? Yeah, no. He definitely heard wrong.
“Oh god, I am so sorry, were you trying to keep it a secret? Although, I mean, it’s kind of obvious, you having, like, a boyfriend and all. What’s his name again, Ron?”
“Ryan,” Brendon corrected weakly.
“Right. Ryan.” Hannah sat back and looked satisfied.
“I mean, I mean, not that we’re boyfriends. Because, well, we’re not,” Brendon said quickly, the rest of the conversation catching up with him. “I mean, like, he’s dating! A girl! Her name’s Elise, she doesn’t go to this school, but--”
“It’s okay, I get it.” She smiled reassuringly.
“You do?” Brendon breathed.
“Yeah, sure. My lips are firmly sealed. No one will know about you and Ron from me!” Hannah mimed locking them and throwing the key away.
Brendon lowered his head into his hands.
What the hell had just happened? All he'd wanted to do was put his arm around her shoulders! And it had all gone downhill from there…
“So, let’s work on some quadratic equations, shall we?” Hannah chirped. “Ooh, here are some nice practice problems we can do!”
* * *
Brendon walked along the deserted street slowly, shoulders slumped, feet dragging along the ground. Without even thinking about it, his body turned left, automatically leading him to Ryan’s house.
What was going on? He was completely and totally straight. And Ryan was like a brother to him. Well, maybe a really hot, bossy, and mostly annoying step-brother. Still. And that other thing she’d said! Everyone knows. Brendon shuddered. He had no idea he was giving out such strong gay vibes!
Although, come to think of it, this might be why the president of the Gay/Straight Alliance always gave him such a betrayed look whenever he walked by their booth without signing up.
And kept trying to speak to him with a hand on his shoulder, or face, or arm.
And talked really loudly that one time about how Brendon was the most misguided, self-denying person he had ever met.
Brendon frowned. That guy was really rude.
He looked up to see that he was in front of Ryan’s door, and turned the knob to let himself in. Ryan always forgot to lock it when his dad wasn't home.
“Hey dude,” Ryan greeted around a pizza pocket. “How’d it go?”
“It was terrible!” Brendon lamented, glad to finally have someone other than the occasional street lamp to spill his troubles. “All I did was try to put my arm around her shoulders, like you said, and she suddenly burst out with this whole rant about how I was making her feel uncomfortable! And--” Brendon looked around cautiously, before continuing in a whisper, “she thought I was gay!! Can you believe that?”
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Wordless, he offered his pizza pocket to Brendon. Brendon grabbed it and tore a bite out, chewing furiously on the rubbery snack.
“And that’s not all!” Brendon sighed and gulped the pizza pocket down. “She said everyone knew that I was…gay.” Brendon mouthed the last word. “And-and she thought we were boyfriends! That Elise was a cover for our…passionate homosexuality!!”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “Us? She thought we were together?” His usual monotone had completely disappeared.
“Yeah, man. That girl is a raving lunatic. I should be glad that I didn’t, you know, actually ask her out.”
Ryan was pacing the floor now, blinking rapidly as he tried to think. “Dude, we have to do something about this.” Brendon nodded vigorously in agreement. “If the whole school thinks we’re together…” Ryan broke off, looking haunted.
“This is terrible,” Brendon reiterated. “But…what can we do?”
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “I have an idea.”
Brendon looked at him nervously.
* * *
“Ryan. Ryan, I really don’t think this is a good look for me.” Brendon stared mournfully down at himself. “I mean, I think I can actually fit my wallet into these pants. And my keys. I don’t think I’ve been able to do that since the fourth grade…” He poked at the heavy folds of denim unhappily.
“Shut up, this is perfect.” Ryan was carefully positioning a baseball cap on his head. A gigantic T-shirt hung down to his knees. Brendon could see Ryan’s eye make-up kit sitting all forlorn and—Brendon can’t even bear to think it—unused on the side of the table.
It was like the apocalypse.
“But Ryan,” he began desperately, “we look like wannabe skaters. Who listen to metal. Or something.” Brendon waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Ryan, I love the Beatles!”
“Come on. Focus on the goal.” He looked at Brendon sternly. “People think guys who dress like this are totally, 100% straight.” Ryan paused. “I think I’m gonna need a belt, though. My pants are falling down.”
