Chapter 13

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If you think figuring out your own sexuality when you HAVE started to doubt it is easy, then you are sadly mistaken.

When my time of bedrest was up and I started playing the shows again and saw girls again for the first time in days I realised I still found them as attractive as I always had, but at the same time I'd still wake up at night, emberrassed, sweaty and with either a hard-on or a sticky mess in my boxers after having once again relived the night with Brendon in my sleep.

******

It was on the fourth night after I'd started playing and walking around again when Matt caught up with me during Fall Out Boy's set, a towel around his neck and a water bottle in his hand.

"How much better are you feeling?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "I'm not tired yet, if that's what you mean."

He nodded. "Go change, I'm taking you out."

"Huh?" Why did that so often seem to be my general response to everything?

"Remember, 'your guide to self-discovery', all that shit?"

"Oh," I said, laughing slightly. "Yeah, I'll meet you in front of the buses in a quarter of an hour."

"Sounds good." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Don't dress up too much. Look good but anonymous. You don't want to be recognised."

I nodded, not really knowing why or where we were going to go, but I wasn't about to ask any questions. Anything that could help me figure shit out was welcomed.

And so we headed out through the back of the venue with brisk paces before seperating at the parked buses, headed for each ours.

Walking inside I started looking around, then I caught sight of a beanie of Brent's, stole it and put it on, letting the tips of my locks stick out beneath it.

Then I went to out primitive toilet/washroom with absolutely no shower and settled on undressing and washing myself as best as I could with only a zink, some water and soap and a washing cloth to help me. This basically consisted of wiping the sweat from the stage off my body as well as I could and the stage makeup off my face. I grabbed the kohl again almost immediately, though, running a thin line around each of my eyes.

After that I hurried back into the bunk room and went through my bag, getting out a pair of rather nice, tight jeans, a polo of Brendon's which had somehow managed to sneak into my luggage, a Clandestine hoodie as a jacket, a regular belt and the same old chucks I almost always wore off stage. Nobody cares if Converse are falling apart, that's a part of their charm.

Then I headed quickly back into the bathroom to look myself over in the mirror. I still looked pretty recognisable as Ryan Ross from Panic!

Something on the table caught my eye and I quickly recognised it as being Brendon's glasses. That I'd practiced wearing the for a whole day some time earlier for some stupid reason I didn't remember at the moment, but I knew I could wear them without screwing up the way my eyes looked and without seeing so badly that I'd run into stuff.

So Brendon's glasses it was. I put them on and went back into the bathroom. That was it, I most definitely didn't look like me anymore.

I waited a minute for my eyes to get used to seeing the world through the glasses, then I grabbed a pack of smoked and a lighter, both of which I placed in the pocket of my hoodie and went out to meet Matt.

******

We got out of the taxi in downtown... whatever city we were in, in what looked like a clubbing district more or less.

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