Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nervous.

Brendon was nervous. Could you blame him? He was sitting in his freshly new dorm room right after waving goodbye to his parents. The family were all sniffles and snots. Just being highly emotional and all. I mean, they all wanted to follow with the church. Brendon too. But if you had the chance to take on a higher education, wouldn’t you too? Brendon did. And he's not regretting it at all. Just still a bit sad about leaving his parents. That's all.

Brendon does have a roommate. He just hasn't seen them at all yet. And the current contrast between Brendon's side of the room and that mysterious roommate is heavy. Since Brendon just moved in, he barely made time to unpack fully yet. So his side was very bare. His roommate on the other hand… looked very cool. In Brendon's eyes. Posters, little trinkets and all that. He even spotted a guitar and a sick ass bass. My roommate must be very cool. Brendon thought. He was just wondering where they would even be right now. Like, did they expect to get a new roommate? Probably. If it was him, he'd be pissed if he got a new roommate with no warning. So Brendon assumed they knew beforehand.

Brendon sighed as he flopped onto his bed, which was surprisingly comfy. He checked his phone for the time. 9AM. New voicemail from mom. He would have to listen to that later. He could feel his eyes get heavy as his cheek is pressed against the pillow. He's already gotten his classes and schedule and they all start tomorrow. So technically his first day at college is a free day. He closes his phone, setting it on his bedside table. Dozing off to sleep, Brendon just dreams about childhood. Reminiscing the sweet ol’ past.

“Aye, see you later, ‘Trick!” An unfamiliar voice yelled out, ringing into Brendon's ears. He fluttered his eyes open, rubbing them as he sat up. He cleaned his glasses with his t-shirt, fixing up his blurry vision as he puts them back on. Checking the clock on the wall, 2PM. Wow, how long was he out for?

Adjusting his eyes, what came up to view was something Brendon could describe as never seen before. Well, atleast to Brendon. The source of the voice turned around and slightly widened his eyes. Brendon could only describe the man in front of his eyes as hot. The definition of some sort of sex appeal. And Brendon thought he was straight. Or atleast he's told himself that he was.

“Oh, you're my new roommate?” The guy asks, a friendly smile prepped up on his face. His skin was tan and he rocked a gorgeous side part with bright red highlights. Hazel eyes. Brendon nods, starting to get nervous again. Yeah, Brendon was pretty talkative and energetic. But that's only once you get to know him. But, no worries for Pete. Because Brendon gets along with people just as fast.

“Well, nice to meet you. It's Pete. Pete Wentz.”

Pete held out a hand and Brendon shook it, taking in the shorter man's appearance. White graphic tee, red hoodie, girl pants, sick ass belt and shoes. Woah. This guy looks cooler than he imagined him to be. And… was he wearing eyeliner? That was another new thing to Brendon. Makeup on men was something Brendon was taught to be taboo… and queer. Very queer. Brendon barely had his own opinion on the LGBTQ+ community. For all his life, he was taught that being gay or wanting to change genders was a sin and that you'd go straight to the deepest pits of hell for that. Supporting them wasn't so different. But Brendon was a nice guy. Of course he had a bunch of bible verses memorized and cramped into that brain of his. He knew it was a big sin. But he never really cared if anyone was like that. They couldn't help it, right? The oh so very straight Brendon was fidgeting with his thumbs, almost forgetting to introduce himself back.

“My name is Brendon. Brendon Urie! I just moved here from Las Vegas and I'm taking the music therapy major. It's nice to meet you too!” He babbled out, seeming way too excited for someone who just got here. Pete chuckled, sitting on his bed opposite of Brendon. Pete had noticed the bible in one of Brendon's opened moving boxes. Pete judges a lot. Very openly too. Brendon could tell that Pete saw his bible.

“I, uhm, well, my parents wanted me to follow with the church and stuff before,” Brendon explains, shifting over to the side to grab his bible. “But, I wanted to go here and… stuff, so, yeah, I'm mormon. A- Also, I really enjoy music and the concept of music therapy. For some reason it makes me feel more connected to God.”

Pete nods slowly, seemingly understanding but Brendon was still scared on whatever that emo was thinking about in his head. Oh Lord, did I say too much? The mormon places his bible on his bedside table, scratching the back of his neck. The atmosphere was very awkward for him. Maybe not to Pete though, because he grabbed his bass and started speaking.

“Very cool, Bren. Maybe you can tell I also like to play some music. More rock-ish though. Think Blink-182.” Pete says, strumming a few lines of his bass and tweaking the chords.

“...What's Blink-182?” Brendon asks. It was a genuine question and not just a few shallow words to keep the conversation going.

“A band that I like. Not sure if you're into that stuff, but I could introduce you to their music if you want.” Replies Pete nonchalantly, playing the intro to ‘Always’

“That'd be nice..” Brendon mumbled, mostly to himself.

“You play any instruments? Or do you sing? Maybe wrote a few songs?” Pete asks, not looking up from his bass.

“I used to be in my church’s boys choir! If I remember correctly… I was soprano? Maybe. I, err, I don't remember. And the only instrument I've touched so far was the kalimba. And that was in the seventh grade, which I barely paid attention in. As far as song writing, I'm yet to try it..” Brendon rambled again. Again, Pete didn't look like he mind and he really didn't, but Brendon was still apologizing profusely after his talking.

“Hey, it's alright, man.” Pete says, finally setting his bass aside as he stretches his arms upwards. His shirt rode up and Brendon could catch a glimpse of the tattoo above his crotch and just right under his belly button. Brendon blushed. Not that he was into that or anything. It just seemed like a very intimate thing to witness. Averting eye contact, Brendon had a sudden feeling of embarrassment.

“You know, you should sing sometime. I'd love to hear it.” Added the bass player.

And there, again, Brendon blushed. This time, it was possibly out of being flustered. That simple sentence that Pete uttered somehow rewired Brendon's goals just a tad bit. What if Brendon joined a band as the lead singer? We could make calming songs about God and love, maybe something like The Beatles… Love, yes. God, not so much unless it was used in vain. If you know what I mean. Brendon felt stupid, fantasizing about being a famous band and all that. He even almost forgot to reply to Pete.

“Oh, well, maybe I should then… I'll think about it. Thanks, Pete!”

“No problem. Hmm, by the way, You wanna head to this party with me tonight? It'll help you get to know other people. And I could introduce you to my friends.

Party? What kind of party would this be? Brendon hesitated to ask. Actually, he didn't ask at all. He straight up accepted Pete's offer without even thinking – “Yeah!” – . If Pete was talking about those kinds of parties. Y'know, the ones with drugs and alcohol and sex. Then Brendon would be in trouble. He'd have to repent right after. But, just a little fun couldn't hurt, right?

“I think you might get along with my friend, Ryan.”

“Really? I can't wait then!"

Chapter Text

Scared.

Brendon was scared. He didn't even know why he accepted to go to a college party on his first day there. It was a good few minutes before the party and Brendon was already regretting his decision to go. 

“Hey, Bren. You really sure you wanna come with me?” Pete asks Brendon, placing a concerned hand on his shoulder. “You seem like you're forcing yourself to come. Which, I'm not forcing you to come.”

No. Say no. Lord, please give me the strength to decline Pete's generous offer.

“Y-yeah! I'm sure.” Brendon replies, enthusiastic as ever.

“Sweet. If you say so.” Pete says, releasing his soft grip on Brendon's shoulder.

As soon as Pete left the room, Brendon immediately clasps his hands together. God The Father, please forgive. The devil’s temptations have gotten to me once and no more again.

“Come on, I'll drive us there!” Pete exclaims from the outside of their room.

No more again.

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline, and most things in between. Brendon could just hear the sin from a mile away. Pete parked somewhere not too close to the party house. He says it's a tradition of his whenever attending these kinds of parties. Brendon dismisses that little fun fact.

The car ride was alright. Pete played his playlist; Guns N’ Roses, Metallica, Blink-182. Brendon never felt so foreign. The Mormon would always listen to the music his parents wanted him to listen to. They say that anything too loud and destructive is a sin. In which they probably meant the lyrics, because you don't hear Billie Joe sing about going to church on Sundays. Oh wait, we do. But you get the point, yeah? Brendon always obeyed, so, whenever something slightly rock would appear in public, in where he had no control of it, Brendon would just naturally block it out. But this time, he was in a fifteen minute car ride with this guy he barely knows who has this car volume turned up to the max. It would be hard to block out those noises in such a cramped space.

The two were approaching the porch. Is this seriously what a college fraternity party looks like? Brendon swears to God The Father that it already looks like the embodiment of sin from the outside. To take a guess on what'll look like on the inside, even worse. 

“Loosen up a little. Try and make some new friends,” Pete speaks over the loud, booming music, snapping Brendon out of his daze. “Pretty sure this party was thrown because some chick I don't know just got her drivers license after trying for years.”

Wow. How bad can someone be at driving?

Brendon doesn't think about that person's driving skills much because as soon as he steps into the house, he gets distracted. Loud, destructive, and (again) downright sinful.

“Ryan! I thought I'd have to manhunt this whole place to find you.” Pete chuckles, calling out a taller guy. Ryan looks back. Could every guy Brendon meet be attractive? He already regrets leaving his comfort town. His comfort zone. Way too new. Way too different.

“Oh hey, Pete.” Ryan replies, his eyes fixated over to Brendon, and suddenly he feels embarrassed again. He barely even did anything yet. He doesn't even know where to start.

Ryan's wearing a black band tee that Brendon doesn't recognize, and wow, his hair looks gorgeous, and better than Pete's. And that earring? Brendon has never thought men would look good in piercings until now. 

“Brendon this is Ryan Ross. Ryan, this is Brendon…”

“Brendon Urie. Hi.” Brendon finishes Pete's sentence. He extends a hand, offering a handshake like he always does. Ryan accepts, a bit awkwardly though.

Brendon does his usual introduction. “I just moved here from Vegas, and I'm taking the music therapy major. Nice to meet you, Ryan –”

“He's Mormon.” Pete adds with a smirk, uncalled for.
“... and I'm Mormon. Yeah. Thanks, Pete.” Brendon's voice quiet down, uncomfortable with Pete's random butt in. He's gonna loathe him for that. 

Ryan eyebrows were raised, seemingly surprised at first. “Are you… allowed to be at parties like this?” He asks.
“Not if I don't indulge in the sinful activities.” Brendon replies, a half-assed one.

“I think you being in this house is already indulging.” Pete laughs, getting on Brendon's nerves. Brendon swears Pete was doing just fine earlier.
“Well, I'm gonna find myself a fuck. I'll leave you two at it, see ya!” And with that, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III leaves the area, already spotting a hot blondie to hit on.

“Wentz. Always a pain in the ass.” Ryan mutters, rolling his eyes in genuine annoyance. “Hey, Ashlee!” Pete's voice can be heard from the background. He notices Brendon fidgeting. Brendon's mind was spiralling. 

“You, uhh, wanna grab a drink?” Ryan asks, just loud enough over the music. Brendon doesn't flinch. He wasn't daydreaming. He nods, mumbling a small ‘yeah’. 

Ryan leads the way to the kitchen, Brendon failing to follow his speed. He lets himself slightly grip onto the fabric of Ryan's band tee, making sure not to lose him. After bumping into a few crackheads and assholes, they arrive at the cramped kitchen. Ryan spots the bottles of whiskey on the island table, grabbing a plastic red cup neary. He pours the drink, and offers it to Brendon, who's cup is already full of water.

“Right. Mormon. You don't drink.” Ryan reminds himself, with no intentions of being rude but Brendon just feels so left out. And Brendon just sips his water, contemplating his decisions in life. The two lean against the kitchen counter.

“So…” Ryan starts, trying to make conversation. “You're into music?”

“Yeah, I am.” Brendon replies.

“What kind of music?” Ryan continues, dryly.
“The Beatles?” Brendon responds genuinely, but his tone is unsure in a way if Ryan would actually accept his music taste. He assumes that he'll be just like Pete.

“The Beatles? Really? I love The Beatles!” Ryan exclaims, his back straightening as the conversation is actually leading somewhere. “What's your favorite song?”

“I don't really have a favorite, but Here Comes The Sun has a special place in my heart. My dad would always play it on the guitar for me.” Brendon responded, his awkward smile forming into a more warm and comfortable one.

“Wow, that's a classic.” Ryan mentions.

“What's your favorite?” Brendon asks.

“Eleanor Rigby. It kind of changed my life.” 

“That's cool… What other stuff do you like?” Brendon continues on asking him.

“I really do enjoy a lot of blink-182. Their best song in my– Oh, shit!” Ryan suddenly exclaims as a brunette chick trips and spills her drink all over him.

“Oh, fuck, sorry dude!” The girl said, balancing herself. She backed up from Ryan, a sour look on her face. “Seriously? This shirt was one of my favs, bitch.” Ryan spat out, wiping the liquid from his beloved shirt. “I said sorry? What a gentleman of you, Ryan.” The girl rolls her eyes, walking away. “If you're going, at least get me a paper towel, Vicky!” He yelled out to her, groaning as he looks back down at his soaked shirt.

Ryan and Brendon stare at each other for a bit.

“Could you come with me to the bathroom? I need a change.” Ryan requests, putting his drink down on the counter.

“Oh, oh, okay. Yeah.” Brendon places his drink down too.

As the duo shuffle through the crowd of the house party, Ryan is just loathing the uncomfortable feeling of a moist shirt sticking to his skin. He's fidgeting with the hem of it, prepared to pull it off as soon as he finds the nearest bathroom. “I think that's one over there.” Says Brendon, pointing to a door next to the flight of stairs leading to the second floor. Ryan just nods, approaching it.

As soon as they enter the surprisingly empty bathroom, Ryan closes the door and locks it. “Wow, surprised there's nobody making out in here.” Ryan comments. Brendon lets out a very quiet fake laugh. Chuckle, if you will. “Oh, and thanks for accompanying me.” Ryan looks towards Brendon, before turning back to the mirror. “Ugh, this shit sucks.” Ryan groans, pulling his shirt up. He puts the shirt in the sink, contemplating whether to turn the tap on or not. “Oh, wow!” Brendon just kind of squeaks to himself in the corner of the bathroom, trying not to stare at Ryan's body. Can't a straight guy admire another guy's lean build? Because Ryan Ross's body is quite a mesmerizing sight.

Chapter Text

“I'm gonna call my girlfriend and see if she can find me a spare shirt.” Ryan sighs, grabbing his Motorola RAZR out of his back pocket.

Girlfriend? Brendon's brain rewinds, the word echoing relentlessly. 

“Ah, yeah, hey, babe. Keltie, could you grab a spare shirt for me?” Ryan talks into his phone while staring at himself in the mirror, slightly fixing up his hair.

Of course, he has a girlfriend. Brendon's not devastated, he just met the guy. He's just surprised, that's all. That is all.

“Vicky tripped or some shit and spilled her fuck ass drink all over me.” He replied, scoffing as he starts to complain about her. “I'm in like.. the bathroom on the first floor… next to the staircase? Where are you?” He responded after a few seconds.

“I'm right here. Hey, baby!” Keltie opens the bathroom door, greeting Ryan and walking in before shutting it closed again. Brendon feels like a ghost in this bathroom, just sitting and quite frankly not doing anything. Keltie has a crumpled up shirt in her hands, handing it to her boyfriend as she sauntered up to him.

“Thanks.” Ryan only said, pulling the short over his head as he puts it on. It was tight, not much of a problem, and pretty basic. “Where'd you find this?”

“My friend gave it to me, so she's partying topless right now.” Keltie laughed, leaning against the sink counter. That's when she noticed Brendon.

“Oh, hi! And this is…?” She trailed off, looking back at Ryan with a confused smile.

“Brendon. He's new here and Pete dragged him to this party.” Ryan answers, about to place his hands on Keltie's waist but she heads over to Brendon, who was sitting on the toilet seat. “Brendon! You look cute. Where you from?” She asks, placing her hands on her knees like she's talking to a lost child.

Ryan tries to play off the dismissal from his girlfriend by stretching his arms.

Did she just call me cute? Yes, she did, Brendon. She's gorgeous. She is.

“Oh, I uhm, moved here from Vegas. Yeah.” Brendon blushed, giving an awkward thumbs up. Is she allowed to be this friendly with me right in front of Ryan, her boyfriend? Maybe Ryan's used to it.

“Ooh, a Vegas kid... Like Ryan! You, eh, party alot?” Keltie asks, leaning back from Brendon when she can tell that Ryan's hand is still lingering around her hip.

“This is actually my first party, hahah. My parents’ didn't really allow me to go to trashy parties like these.” He replies, keeping a mental note on how Ryan’s supposedly from Las Vegas too. He'll have to ask about that later. Brendon stands up finally, feeling vulnerable by his shortened point of view. 

“Wow, were they really strict?” Keltie asks another question, leaning into Ryan's touch this time. 

“You could say so, yeah.” Brendon only says. Ryan stays quiet.
“You wanna get out and party with us?” She offers, doing a little dance.
“Yeah, yeah!” He stutters a bit, his reply filled with enthusiasm.

It's only at twelve thirty-five into the night when Brendon realizes he's far too past his usual bedtime.

It's not like he suddenly became a frat boy or self-proclaimed slut. His partying was mild. If you'd even call it partying. The majority of the time, he was sitting on a couch getting bombarded by druggies or looking for Ryan and Keltie. Because he indeed lost them as soon as they got out of the bathroom too.

The unfortunate part was that he hadn't gotten either of their numbers yet. So far, he's only gotten Pete's, but Pete hasn't been picking up the phone ever since they parted at arrival. Rumour says he's hooking up with a blonde nerd at this very moment.

Brendon stumbles out onto a balcony. Weird since he doesn't recall walking up any stairs, but the whole party has been such a blur for him.

He's trying to catch some fresh air, though the wind he inhales in is polluted. An unfamiliar stench of smoke and nicotine.

Holding in a cough, Brendon glances to his right, spotting the source. A remarkably shorter guy with even shorter brown hair. 

“...Hi.” Brendons squeaks out.

“...Hey?” The smoker replies.

“Do you, uhh, know a guy named Pete?” Brendon asks.

The smoker eyes him up and down. 

“Wentz?”

Brendon nods. The other chuckles.

“Why? What's up?”

Brendon exhales, then inhales. “Well. He was my ride here, but I can't find him nor contact him. He's not picking up! And, I'd really like to head back to the dorms…” The sweet Mormon explains. 

“It's barely been five hours since the party started. What a shame you're leaving so soon.. uh, what's your name? I'm Frank.” The smoker replies, making direct eye contact.

“It's Brendon,” he says. “And I don't think I'm fit for the party life, Frank.” Brendon adds.
“... What makes you think that?” Frank asks.

“I don't really know how to explain it.” The taller one sighs, again. He notices the difference in distance between Frank and him. Huh, was he this close before? He thought.

Frank languidly exhaled the smoke from his mouth, keeping the cigarette in between his fingers steadily.

Brendon couldn't decipher on why he insisted to himself to stay there on the balcony, enjoying the soft breeze of wind despite the significant odor of bitter smoke.

He fixated his gaze towards Frank, who was now staring into the view quite content. Opposite of the oh so solemn Brendon. He couldn't help but pick out the details on the cigarette Frank was smoking. The way the tip burned slightly, ashes falling to the ground.

“Want one?” Frank suddenly asks, deciding to interfere with the way Brendon was intently gazing at him.

“Oh! Ah, no thank you. I don't smoke. Thanks anyway?” The one and only Mormon frantically replies, being as polite as he can.

Frank chuckles.

“You wanna try the taste, at least?” He offers, the vagueness in his question only heightening Brendon’s curiosity.

“Sure..? I don't know how that'd work, though.” Brendon mentions.

Frank's smirk widens, giggling this time.

“Simple. Kiss me, if you want a taste.”

Chapter Text

I don't know if anybody really cares anymore but I will stop this writing/continuing this fic because I am going to rewrite it completely and post it as a different work. That's all. Just expect the new one to be way better, alright?