Work Text:
“ And you must keep your soul
Like a secret in your throat
And if they come and get me
What if you put the spike in my heart?
— Vampires Will Never Hurt You, My Chemical Romance (2002)
Someday we will all be nothing more than a faded photograph. There will be nobody left to tell our stories, nobody left to lay flowers at our grave, nor anybody left to sing for us.
Some people believe in reincarnation, some in the afterlife, some in vampires and ghosts.
Brendon Urie thinks it’s all a load of bullshit.
You’re born, you struggle through life, you die. That’s it, fade to black. There are no angels, no light at the end of the tunnel, no end credits.
Lights out. Song over. End of the story.
He wasn’t always this cynical, per se. Sure, he thought most things were bullshit, growing up Mormon would do that to you—working in a cemetery would make it worse—but he used to believe in perfect fairy tale endings, too.
He still did, to an extent, he wanted to settle down with the right guy someday, do the whole domestic thing, but it all felt so far off. He also wanted to be in a band, wanted to get tattoos, wanted to see the world…
But he knew it was all a pipe dream.
His life was pretty mediocre. He wasn’t a bum by any means, he was a bohemian! There was just nothing too interesting happening, typical teenage bullshit, really.
He got out of bed at 8AM Monday through Friday to attend classes he couldn’t care less about, talked to his best friend and sometimes fuck buddy Shane Valdez, came home, did a shit ton of weed, and at 7PM Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays it was time to start his shift at the cemetery—a rather boring job where he did nothing but stand around with his earbuds in, cleaning up the grave site and keeping grave diggers, as well as other small animals, out.
On Saturday’s he worked from 7PM to 6AM, and Sunday morning he’d be expected to go to Church with his family, then he’d come home and have to clean the house top to bottom without a wink of sleep.
His life was boring, it sucked, nothing worth while was happening, and nothing worth while would happen.
So, here he was, recounting his sad life to nobody in particular, wasting away his Saturday night at a graveyard.
“Sheesh,” a voice says from behind Brendon. He flinches, pulling his earbuds out. “This is where you work?”
“Don’t creep up on me like that,” Brendon murmurs, putting his hand out for a handshake. “What are you doing here?”
Shane shrugs. “I thought I’d see what you do with your Saturday nights instead of hanging out with me.” He says suggestively. Before Brendon can really process what Shane has said, Shane is pressing him against one of the headstones, lips moving hungrily against his.
Brendon loses sight of himself for a second, hands trailing up Shane’s shirt, before he thinks better of it. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he swears he can feel a cold chill run down his spine; a disappointed ancestor, perhaps.
“We shouldn’t,” Brendon mumbles, pulling away. Shane looks disappointed. “We’d be dead if someone from my Church saw us.” He tries to defend. Shane was basically his only friend, it’d suck if he stopped talking to Brendon over a turned down makeout session in a fucking cemetary of all places.
Shane shrugs again. “You’re right. It is late, though. I think this would be a pretty good place to fuck if there wasn’t somebody standing guard.” He smirks, “Although the guard is very handsome, and he has a nice ass. I don’t know if I’d mind him watching.”
Brendon shoves Shane, rolling his eyes. “Ha-ha. Very funny. We’re surrounded by decaying bodies, and it kind of fucking reeks. Who would want to have sex surrounded by dead bodies?”
“Some people are into that.” Shane says, supplying a blunt from his pocket.
“Not you, I hope.”
“I’ve never put much thought into it.” He says, passing the blunt to Brendon.
“Let’s keep it that way. We’re not having sex in a cemetery." Brendon passes it back.
“I think it’s the only place we have any hope at all of having sex these days.” Shane says with a sigh, leaning against the fence. “This place does give me the creeps, though.”
Brendon shrugs. “You get used to it.”
“The way you jumped when you heard my voice says otherwise.”
“I have anxiety, it’s a given.”
“You’re just a fag.”
“Only for you.” Brendon supplies with a wink.
The cemetery was perhaps the most stressful job one could imagine. Not because it was particularly hard to watch a bunch of dead people, but because he lives in Vegas, and it wasn’t uncommon for tourists to attempt to grave rob the decomposed body of, say, Albert Collins.
It didn’t help that his friends constantly told horror stories about cemeteries. He didn’t believe half the shit they said, but it didn’t calm his nerves in the slightest.
“Who’s that?” Shane asks quietly, gesturing towards a glum looking boy in the back of the gravesite.
Brendon shrugs. “A regular.”
“He’s cute.” He says, raising his eyebrows.
“And he’s in mourning, clearly. Fuck off.”
***
The cemetery is, for the most part, undisturbed during the night. Family and friends usually come during the day, and Brendon is glad to be saved from the drama and tears. Plus, this way he can listen to music undisturbed.
For the most part, family and friends come during the day. There is one boy, around Brendon’s age—maybe a year or two older—who comes in every Wednesday night, dressed fully in black, and sits by one of the graves. He doesn’t talk or cry, he just sits there, earbuds in. Sometimes he smokes a cigarette, sometimes he has a beer.
Brendon thinks he’s damn near the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, but really he doesn’t know the first thing about this boy, and he wasn’t about to go making friends in a graveyard.
He wasn’t that desperate.
…Yet.
“Is that weed?”
Apparently there was a god on Brendon’s side. “Yeah. Want a hit?”
The boy nods, and Brendon passes it to him. Their fingers brush slightly as the joint is passed between them, and the boy’s fingers are cold and clammy to the touch.
“What’s your name?” Brendon asks, unsure of what else he could say.
“Does it matter? We’re just sharing a joint.” Being defensive of his name probably wasn’t a good sign, but Brendon loved a good red flag, and he was so pretty, Brendon didn’t think he’d mind much if he lied about his name.
“You come in here all the time.” He tries to reason.
“Just Wednesdays.”
“Sometimes Saturdays,” Brendon counters. “I’m Brendon.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Your boyfriend comes in sometimes.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He sure acts like it. I’m Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you, Ryan. Officially, I mean.”
“What are you listening to?” Ryan sure does switch topics fast.
“The Killers,”
“What song?” Ryan’s expression visibly lights up once they’re on the topic of music.”Can I?” He asks, picking up the earbud dangling from Brendon’s neck.
Brendon doesn’t trust himself to say anything without making a fool of himself, so he just nods, suppressing a shiver when Ryan’s cold hands brush against the sensitive skin of his neck.
All These Things That I’ve Done is playing through his speakers, and Brendon sees the ghost of a smile flicker on Ryan’s face. “This is a good song. What else do you have on this thing?”
Brendon shrugs. “Billy Joel, Queen, Blink-182, Radiohead, The Smashing Pumpkins, Journey…” he lists “More, probably, but those are some of my favorites, so…” Brendon is slightly embarrassed by his rambling, but Ryan looks endeared, so he forces himself to relax.
“Cool.” He says. “I don’t usually meet other music fans. They all think it’s kind of lame or pretentious.” He says, kicking a rock on the floor. “Nobody likes good music.”
Brendon’s never met anybody else who agreed with him. Even Shane sometimes found music semi-pretentious, although he didn’t have much room to talk, seeing as he wanted to be a film-maker. “I sing for my Church,” He says, feeling silly as soon as the words leave his mouth.
“Ah,” Ryan says, suddenly unsure of himself for the first time all night.
“I mean, I’m not- I don’t- I’m not Mormon. Or Christian, or anything. My parents are.”
“And you’re doing weed in a cemetery.” Ryan says, something akin to amusement flicking in his eyes.
“I work here.” He says with a shrug.
“...And you’re gay.”
“In a sense.”
“No, you’re gay. I see you sneak off with that guy sometimes.”
“How do you know I’m not bi or something?”
“You’re gay.” Ryan says for the third time, something like finality in his tone. “I don’t care. Me too. Not gay, I like girls too, but me too.”
“Cool.” Brendon says.
“Cool,” Ryan replies.
“What do you have on your ipod?” Brendon asks, trying to dispel some of the tension. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of being gay or anything, but his parents might, in a figurative sense, knock on wood, kill him if they find out he’s been having pre-marital sex with men while drinking and smoking.
Ryan smiles once the topic of music is reintroduced, and Brendon wants to kiss him bad. “I’ll bring it next time. We can listen to mine instead. You should sit down, you can see the gate from here, so if somebody tries to sneak in you’ll know.”
“Okay.” Brendon says. He already feels weak in the knees. A cute boy was ordering him around, he wasn’t going to fight back. He knew better.
Ryan has to sit close to Brendon to accommodate the earbuds, and he curls in on himself slightly. He acts as though Brendon isn’t there, reading the same book Brendon had seen him with the last three weeks. “What have you been reading?” Brendon asks.
“Chuck Palahniuk,” Ryan answers, not looking up from the pages.
“Who?” He responds before he can think better of it.
“He wrote Fight Club. You probably haven’t read it, most people haven’t. Good movie. Brad Pitt was hot in that.”
“Brad Pitt was hot in that.” Brendon agrees.
Ryan nods. “Invisible Monsters. It’s good, I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not good at summaries. I can lend it to you when I’m done, if you want.”
Brendon, eager to find out more about Ryan, nods. “Okay.”
“And you should read Fight Club. It’s better than the movie, if you’d believe it.”
“Ugh, I’ve seen Fight Club a thousand times.”
“It’s good.”
“No, Shane likes it. I mean, it is good. But he likes the way it’s shot.”
“Who?”
Brendon sighs. “The boyfriend.”
“Oh.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, though.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He pauses, “Do you always talk this much?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Brendon replies, suddenly self-conscious.
“Are you nervous?”
“Kinda.” Brendon admits. “You’re, like, hot. Hot boys don’t usually talk to me.”
“They’re jealous.” Ryan says. Brendon scoffs. “No, really. Men see other men with a cute ass and they get jealous cuz they’re too insecure in their masculinity to like, realize it’s not even gay to admit someone has a nice ass.”
“You think my ass is cute?” Not at all the main takeaway, but a line of questioning worth pursuing in Brendon’s opinion.
“Objectively speaking, yes. You’re wearing women’s pants. I think anyone’s ass looks good in women’s jeans.”
“Good to know.”
***
The next time Brendon sees Ryan, it’s a Monday instead of a Wednesday, and Brendon has to double check the date multiple times to make sure he’s not hallucinating.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey,” Brendon responds. “It’s Monday.” He says stupidly.
“It is.” Ryan responds, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
“I’ve worked here for three months and you always come on a Wednesday.”
“There’s a cute guard working here who I wanted to come see.” He says, shrugging. “My piece of shit dad is buried here. I like to come do shit I know he’d hate by his grave. Keep the tradition alive, you know.”
“Ah,” Brendon says, unsure of what else to say.
“I brought my ipod.” He says, waving it.
“You like The Beatles?” Brendon says when the fifth Beatles song in a row comes on.
“I really like The Beatles.” He says, fidgeting. “They’re like, classic for a reason. They’re fucking awesome, dude. Also John and Paul were fags, which is kind of comforting, in a way. I went to a Catholic high school and everybody loved The Beatles but they didn’t even know anything about them. They wouldn’t have loved them if they knew John and Paul were in love.” Ryan looks up at Brendon, flushing slightly. “Sorry. I talk a lot about stuff I’m interested in, Spencer tells me it’s endearing, I don’t believe him. I think I just sound like a fucking idiot.”
“It is endearing.” Brendon says, smiling. “You’re not in high school?” He questions, unable to avoid the topic anymore.
Ryan shakes his head. “I graduated a year early. I don’t really go to most of my college classes though. I can do most of the work from home or on my laptop, so I usually only come in for exams.”
Brendon feels himself let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I get off early on Mondays,” He finds himself saying.
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. Usually I go hang out with Shane. But, you know…for the record. We don’t always have to hang out here, it’s kind of, you know, a mood killer.”
“What mood, exactly?” Ryan says. He was, as always, reading a book. He rarely looked up from the pages to look at Brendon, but the rare times he did, such as now, always made Brendon’s heart stop. He always felt like he had done something wrong.
“I just meant you could come over. My parents don’t usually care if I have guys over. They might try to convert you, though.”
“So what I’m getting is I could come over, like, whenever.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Brendon says.
“Cool,” Ryan says.
“Cool.”
***
“You have a lot of posters.” Ryan says the first time he sees Brendon’s room. He was already making himself at home, although it’d taken a lot of reassurance from Brendon that it was okay, he was now laying curled up in bed with Brendon, staring at the ceiling.
“Do you not?”
Ryan shakes his head. “I’m renting. If I fuck up the walls I won’t be able to afford it, kind of lifeless in my room.”
“That sucks.” Brendon says. “I bought most of these for myself. Some I got from my older siblings and Shane, or some of our other friends, but mainly I bought them.”
Ryan nods. “You have your own gaming system.”
Brendon suddenly feels awkward, like he was flexing on Ryan. “Er, yeah… I mean, it was a gift, and it’s second hand.”
“Still cool,” Ryan says. “You have any cool games?”
“Define cool.”
Ryan shrugs. “Guitar Hero, Grand Theft Auto, Mario Kart, and I’m hoping a loose floorboard with a shit ton of beer?”
Brendon smirks. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” He rises from the bed and ducks underneath it, tinkering with a floorboard until it pops up. He re-emerges with a half-empty bottle of wine, eyes lingering too long when a smile blooms on Ryan’s face.
“Classy,” Ryan muses.
“Only the best for you.” Brendon says without much thought. He was used to being kind of flirty with all of his friends.
Ryan’s expression flickers to something uncertain before he schools it back into neutrality, and Brendon turns his Play Station on before laying next to Ryan once more. Ryan had this weird knack for making Brendon feel weirdly unsure of himself, and so he’s quiet now, the bottle of wine passing between them. Brendon tries not to think about how they’re indirectly kissing, he does stuff like this with friends all the time.
“You’re good at this,” Ryan says a few hours later. He was curled against Brendon, having given up once he was too drunk to properly hold the faux guitar.
“I play real guitar, so…” Brendon says. He was keeping his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb this peace. He’d never felt this kind of thing before, not even with Shane or Audrey. He wasn’t anywhere near as drunk as Ryan, but he didn’t need to be. He felt intoxicated off of his presence.
“Really? I didn’t know that. Me too. We should play together sometime.” Ryan responds. Sometimes, when his guard is down enough, Ryan will look up and meet Brendon’s eyes, shining full of wonder, like Brendon is the most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
Usually, once Ryan realizes he’s been staring for too long, he’ll look away and go back to reading, or back to staring at some point on the ground. This time, his gaze remains fixed on Brendon’s eyes.
“...You have really nice teeth.” Brendon says breathily. It was the first thing that came to mind, really. It was one of the first things he had noticed about Ryan.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You have sharp canines.” That he desperately wanted to be bitten by, but he was sober enough to not say that part out loud.
Ryan just smiles, revealing a sliver of his canines, almost teasingly. “You have a thing for that?”
“Nah.” Brendon replies. Just you he thinks. “They’re pointy. Like a bat’s. Or a vampire’s, maybe. If you believe in that kind of thing.”
“Do you?” Ryan’s eyes sparkle in the way they always did when they talked about something he was interested in, and Brendon has to bite his lip to prevent from smiling. He fails, a huge smile blooming over his features.
“I take it you do?”
“Are you teasing me?”
“No, I’m just surprised. It’s cute. Um, no. I don’t really buy into the whole vampire or ghost thing.”
“Oh, okay.” Ryan replies, deflated.
“No, what were you going to say?”
“I just love vampires. They’re like, easily the coolest fucking creatures on Earth. Have you read Dracula? Nevermind, probably not. It’s one of my favorites. It’s like the best book ever written.”
“What’s so cool about vampires anyways?”
“Dude,” Ryan says, sitting up. “They’re practically immortal if they play their cards right, they have all that time to study whatever they want, read every book in the world, it’s infinite knowledge. They get to sleep in a coffin, which is fucking rad, they literally reap all the benefits of human life but they’re not fucking evil.”
“Aren’t they?”
“Evil? No. They’re like mosquitos, they just need blood to survive. Not much, anyways. And they’re, like, objectively hot. I would let a hot vampire suck my blood.”
Brendon rolls his eyes fondly, laughing. “Your teeth are sharp enough to draw blood. You may as well be a vampire.”
“You’ve no idea what a compliment that is to me. I’d suck your blood.”
Please do. “That’s gay,”
“You’re gay. I want to kiss you.” Ryan says.
“Then kiss me,” Brendon rushes out, suddenly out of breath.
Ryan leans in, their lips pressing together for the best millisecond of Brendon’s life before a sudden knock on the window takes them from their moment, and he tenses slightly. He hadn’t told anybody about Ryan. Not out of disdain, but because he wanted something to be his. Ryan felt like his own little secret, their relationship felt private; like if they shared it with anybody else it would cease to exist.
Ryan bites his bottom lip, and Brendon sighs. “I should go,” he says, moving to stand.
Brendon shakes his head. “You should stay,” he says, gently pushing him back on the mattress. “It’s fine. You’re drunk, anyways. I’m not sending you out like that.”
“Hardly.” Ryan mumbles, but Brendon just shoots him an unamused look, and Ryan deflates into the pillows.
There’s another knock on the window, and Brendon turns on his phone as he opens the window, now face to face with Shane. “Dude, are you alive?” He says, a look of concern in his eyes.
“Sorry,” Brendon mumbles. He had over twenty missed calls and texts from both Shane and Audrey. “I’ve been busy.”
“With what, dude?” He asks, crawling through the window fully. “Oh. There’s a pretty boy in your bed, okay.” Brendon flushes, elbowing Shane harshly in the ribs. “Ow, what? He’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
Ryan squirms slightly under the attention. “Thanks?” He says, wrapping his arms around himself.
“Dude, he’s fucking tiny. Like, all bone. That’s hot.” He whispers to Brendon. “Are you two…?”
“No.” Brendon says. “We’re not.”
Shane puts his hands up defensively. “Okay, my bad. Hi, I’m Shane.” He says, fixing Ryan with a soft smile. “Cemetery boy? Really?” Shane mumbles under his breath.
“I know.” Ryan says.
Brendon looks down to hide a smile. “It’s creepy when you say that to people, you know.”
“Sorry,” Ryan mumbles. “I’m Ryan.”
“Cool,” He says, shifting awkwardly before speaking again. “ I just came to check on you, really.” He says to Brendon. “You always respond to my calls, I thought maybe all the night shifts at the cemetery finally drove you crazy. Glad to know you’re okay.” He says. He brushes hair from his forehead and kisses his temple gently. Brendon cringes internally. It’s not like they were dating, but it’s also not like Brendon wasn’t painfully aware of the fact that Shane wished they were dating. “I’ll leave you to it,” He says.
“He came all the way here just to check on you? I thought you said you weren’t dating.” Ryan says once Shane is gone.
Brendon sighs. “We aren’t.” He says. “And he only lives, like, a ten minute walk from here. ‘S not that far.” He mumbles.
“Does he know you’re not dating?” Ryan says, the sarcasm evident. He brushes hair from the base of Brendon’s neck and leans down, and before Brendon can process or even ask what Ryan is doing, he sinks his teeth into his neck. Brendon yelps, his breath hitching.
“I would hope so,” Brendon says, suddenly struggling to swallow. Ryan bites him again, harder this time, and Brendon gasps. “Fuck,” he breathes out “fuck. That’s too high.”
Ryan shrugs, kissing the marks. He licks over them lightly, and this is just about the most agonizing foreplay Brendon has ever had. “Fuck” he breathes out again. He doesn’t think he’s even capable of saying anything else.
Ryan moves to straddle Brendon’s lap, and his hands come to hold Ryan’s waist on instinct. Shane was right, he is all bone. He could feel his sharp hip bones poking out from just above his waistband. One of Ryan’s hands cups Brendon’s face as he kisses him hungrily, the other is at the base of his neck, his thumb moving to swipe a prickle of blood from the bite marks. He pulls away from the kiss to make eye contact with Brendon, not breaking it as his tongue comes out to sample the blood. If Brendon wasn’t turned on before, he definitely was now.
Ryan dips his head to lick the beads of blood once more, sucking on them occasionally to draw out more blood. He was moaning quietly against his skin.
Brendon lets out a few breathy moans, biting his bottom lip when he doesn’t trust himself anymore. The first time he had sex with Shane, he had moaned his name. Shane had chastised him after, telling him moaning your partner's name was too serious for casual flings.
…But could this even be described as anything casual?
“Ryan,” He breathes out eventually, his hand traveling up the back of his shirt. He can feel his spine, and he runs his fingers along the ridges, biting his bottom lip when Ryan sharply inhales against the touch.
“Yeah?” He responds, his voice just as breathy as Brendon’s. “Too much?” He asks, pulling away slightly.
“No, god no.” Brendon says with a small laugh. “If you put a CD in my stereo it’ll drown out noise.” He says.
Ryan hums, mouthing at his neck once more. He nips gently at some of the skin, and Brendon wonders if he’s going to bite down again. “What if I don’t want to do any more than this?”
“Then you’ll still need to put a CD in the stereo.” Brendon replies.
“You could just be quiet.” Ryan says, moving to bury his face in the crook of Brendon’s neck. “I think I’m done, anyways. Wine makes me tired.” He kisses Brendon’s jaw once before pulling away, moving to climb off of Brendon’s lap. Brendon pulls him back down gently, and Ryan sighs, kissing him. He tastes like red wine and the distinct metallic taste of blood.
Ryan cups his jaw gently, maneuvering them so Brendon was hovering over him, Ryan flat on his back. Brendon settles between his legs, and Ryan eventually pulls away with a soft laugh. “I’ve never seen anybody this worked up over this, actually.” He says.
Brendon flushes. “Really?”
Ryan just huffs in response, tugging at Brendon’s hair. Brendon makes a noise of complaint, and Ryan pets him. Brendon whimpers quietly, flushing, surprised by his own reaction. Shane and him hadn’t experimented much, clearly, because he was discovering all kinds of things about himself tonight.
“Jesus.” Ryan murmurs. He shoves at Brendon and moves to get up, but Brendon makes a small sound of protest, trying to pull him back down. “You’re clingy,” Ryan says. “Whiny, too. Hold on.”
Ryan rifles through one of Brendon’s drawers, pulling out a Joy Division CD.
He puts it in the stereo.