((Bound By Words chapter 3))

If you were wondering, no, I never heard the end of it.

All day it was just, "Yep, youre so gay for him. So gay."

All. Fucking. Day.

He went so far as to write it out for me, too. All through study period (the only class I have without Ryan), he passed me 12 notes via chucking them at the back of my fucking head. At about note #13, I jotted down;

What do u want?

do u like ryan?

NO

r u sure?

YES

positive?

YES

positive?

Jon, if I was any more positive, I'd be HIV positive.

thats pretty positive.

No shit. -.-

r u goin 2 his house?

yes

rly?

Jon, -.-

sry.

thnks.

but do u think he's hawt? tell the truth

yes

I KNEW IT

stfu

SRY. its just...i was so right

i guess

dont deny, Urie

x.x

xp

The notes stopped when the teacher passed, looking down upon us with her beady little hawk eyes.

Finally, I didnt have to reply via invisible force. Enough to drive me insane.

When the bell rang, I slowly rose from my cheap plastic chair and hugged my things to my chest.

Its not that I didnt want to go to Ryan's, nor did I particularly want to. I mean, he was alright. But I'm one slutty bastard. Alone with beauty? Ah, but there enlies the magical wonders of parental units, which I'm sure he has. Thank you, sympathy. Jon smiled and tossed me a last note.

i'm gunna run n' leave u alone. call me aftr. k gayass?

Just like that, he rushed off. I'm pretty sure I looked kind of demented, my eyes widened in exaggeration as if I was paralized or something.

My breathing was slow, and I could totally picture all the hateful and enraged words if anyone figured out I was breaking bisexual.

"Shut up, Urie. Go plug your mouth with Ryan Seacrest's dick."

No meaning in the fact that the guys first name is Ryan.

The hallway seemed longer than usual as I made my way to my locker, waiting for Ryan to pop up out of nowhere and kidnap me. But he never did and I quickened my pace as I opened my locker, shoving all my shit in there. I was beggining to think he had forgotten when he drifted up as I intended to leave the building.

"Hey. You still comming?" he inquired, looking puzzled.

"Uh, yeah." I nodded, looking at him. I had to get used to his company, since it could be there for a possibly long time.

"Alright, just let me...-" and he hauled ass in those skinny jeans over to his car and unlocked it.

It was average, silver, sure as hell not cheap but not too expensive either. "There we are," and he opened the passenger seat for me before hopping into the driver's side.

The music quietly twinkled in the background, barely there. It was almost as if he had something to hide pertaining to the music. I didnt let it bother me and I let him have his fun.

The drive wasnt too long, and I was expecting a spectacular Victorior Grove home with ivy up thechimneyand painted stained-glass windows by the shitloads. Instead, after a twenty minute drive he pulled into a lesser house, made of two floors, eroded bricks, and a bland cream outer paint job.

Not my expectations.

"This is where you live?" I let slip out, despite its rudeness. I cant deny the question burning on my lips.

"Is something wrong with that?" His facial expression was nervous, I could read him easily. He was embarrased, but trying to attempt to act tougher than he feels.

"No. I just expected something a little-"

"Worth more than a Trojan condom? So was I." and he began up the 3 step high porch.

Apparently, no one was home, because he walked right in and threw his shit on the floor.

"Your parents arent here?" I'm sorry, but I cant help it. In all honesty, its a shock to me.

"They never are, theyre always at...uhm...work." The poor boy was lying with an obvious slant straight through those perfect teeth, but I accepted it. He was so fucking easy to read.

"My room is upstairs," and he began biting his lip like the decision was the one between him winning or losing the lottery.

Previously, in the car, I'd decided that I was to be totally open-minded here, no backing out, no quick judgements.

Following, I felt my mind fly away. And there went good judgement.

[[[Ryan's POV]]]

Now truth be told, Ive led many a person, no, many a guy up to my room. But Brendon was different, he mattered. And he wasnt necessarily here for a good fuck, as far as I knew. I'd like to think he wasnt much, but ever since I started here, I couldnt help but stare.All the time.

My room was one of those ones that covers the whole upstairs level, and it was really mismatched. My walls were plain except for the occasional letter that was of importance or a lyric or two that I swore to use one day. My dresser was covered with addresses and numbers of people that I know, and friends of people that I know.

So I'm the local fuckbunny?

No one but the people I lay and Spencer have to know. Ilaiddown on my bed, sighing as I tried not to look at him.

It was an awkward situation, really. I mean, every time I look at him, each time we talk or I look into those eyes, I feel so...unimportant. Like he was just more powerful, like he was holy in some unspeakable way. I could tell, though he seemed not to popular from what I've heard, that he came from a well supported and well supportive household. That he had money, and a life, and real friends, not ones that you occasionally laugh with, and the joke's either on you or someone else. With Brendon...I mean, the first time I looked at him, I mean really looked at him, was my first morning there. He's about 4 lockers away from me and on the opposite side of the hallway. But as I looked back, my eyes stuck to those skinny jeans, the tight brown tee he was wearing, and the small space between them that was visible as he stretched to reach for something.

As I remembered how stalkerish I was, I felt immediately uncomfortable as he too entered my room. But hell, I'm Ryan Ross, right? I should have some sort of wits about me.

Haha. Me. Wits. Funny.

"Here, I've got a cheat sheet." and I reached for my bedside dresser, smiling at my cleverness.

Really I was shaking in my skinnies. It was this book that my last boyfriend bought me, those gay little Coke or Pepsi books with all the questions.

Yeah, so I've had a boyfriend. Well, many a boyfriend. And many a girlfriend as well, but girls never have the sameinterestsas I do. Well, some do, but that would beintereststhat only the extremely gay side of me take part in.

You could say I'm all over the place.

I mean, example.

When I told the class I was single? I lied. I have 2 girlfriends and 2 boyfriends, not including the girl who's been placing moves on me at school, Anna Dempsey, but including the boy and girl who arent officially dating me but fuck with me all the time. But no one needs to know that, right? Right.

But Brendon?

Lord, strike me down, but theres no way angels exist if they meant to give me Brendon. Everyone knows at my old school, and this one's supposed to be a new start. Thats one of the reasons I had to transfer to Spencer's school, because I was getting beat up too often.

Yeah, Spencer and I have really been friends since kindergarden. Little known fact.

But yeah, a new start. Not necessarily where people dont know I'mhormonallyenraged, but where they dont know I'm gay.

Brendon makes that goalvery hard.

I wont go into painful detail, but he's pretty fucking amazing. You wouldnt believe (and I'll admit) how much I talk/think about him. All day, all night, on the phone, in class, in the shower, to the neighborhood's stray dog, and yes, in bed and/or while fucking someone else.

Its mindblowing really, just ask Spencer, he complains about it all the time.All. The. Time.Allow me to make these things deffiant for you with my excess use of periods and random words and underlines. Dont be jealous.

As he still stood uncomfortably against my closed door, I motioned for the chair, to which he obliged and sat in, still looking awkward as hell.

Like...Oprah in a room ofactualtherapists. And Adolf Hitler, just for show. Just plain uncomfortable.

"Okay," I prepared, book wide open in my lap. "Coke or pepsi?"

"Pepsi." he answered, looking a bit more comfy.

"Coke." I decided against him, just because its fun. I threw him a notebook and pencil and wrote down his answer with my own. He did the same.

"Romantic night in or wild night out?" I made an 'alrightie then' face at the question, it was a bit awkward.

His expression changed to mysterious as he smirked, "Romantic nightout."

"Wild night in." I challenged.

That gorgeous smile spread across his face and he scrunched up his nose, making his adorkable glasses stand out.

Thats right, I said it, adorkable. Go gay language.

"Flying single or crazy in the love?"

"Flying single." he sighed, "Still."

I laughed, and then decided to answer in a completely wrong way, just to stir up somemischievouscontroversy. "I'm not crazy in love, but I'm with someone."

"You are?" he looked up at me, playful expression dropped and without a trace.

"Mmhmm. Only for about a week now."

"Who is he? I-I mean she?"

Holy shit.

I began to get the chills. Did he overhear something? What up with the 'he' slip-out?

Maybe it was just an accident.

"You wouldnt know her," I reassured, looking completely serious.

"Oh."

I moved on. "Drinking, drugs, sex? Or above the influence?" Bad question.

"Hell no, above the influence." He looked down at his paper with a screwed up look on his face.

I however, made no prompt attempt to answer, rather I skipped to the next question without warning.

"Uhm, ca-"

"I, er, need an answer."

His eyes were like...like...the moon if it were brown. Big and glowing, gorgeous. They also gazed up from those red rims.

But I knew I had to give some sort of response, I couldnt leave him with misconceptions and suspicions and shit.

"Look, my, er, parents should be home any minute now and they dont know I invited you. They'll be pissed as hell," I lied. I couldnt tell if he could tell or not, so I kept going. "Come back tomorrow and I'll try to give you more, mmkay?"

"How bout we just hang out?" His suggestion was sincere, which scared the fuck out of me. There are so many good reasons why I shouldnt hang out with Brendon. I mean, my reputation might be murdered, he could find something out and tell the whole damn world, or I might fall madly and deeply in love with him. But you know.

"I mean," and he looked down to his hands in his lap, "It doesnt have to me all work."

the offer was sudden, but I cant say no. I'd love to just be with Brendon, no excuses, but we're really only friends in school.

"Its just a suggestion, i-if not, Jon and I could find something to do."

"No," I looked at him, "This week isnt a good week for me. How bout next week?" I tried laying on all the kindness in my voice that I could, but I found it kind of hard. Maybe my side-smile would be somewhat convincing.

"Friday, next week?"

"Sure." I nodded.

"Alright." and he gathered his things to leave.

Meet me, Ryan Ross, the compulsive liar.