Ryden Oneshots

Sodapop

.:. Rating : NC-17 .:.

Summary: There are rumors and a cute boy at Brendon's new school.

Rumors, Brendon has learned, are a big thing at his new school. He’s still a little iffy about the complex layout of the campus and constantly forgets his locker combination. He doesn’t exactly remember his schedule every day. He only has one friend. But he’s been firmly acquainted with every rumor that’s circled around, whether it’s new and fresh that day or stale gossip from years before.

The people at Palo Verde High school, they like to talk.

There’s the usual ones you’ll find at every high school across the country. Some William guy might be gay. Some Brittany girl might be pregnant. Jackie and Coach Something-Or-Other are sleeping together after track practice on the gymnastics mats. Yawn. Brendon’s heard it all before. Different names, different location, same shit.

On his third day of being the new kid though, he overheard two goth girls in his biology class whispering not-so-quietly about something that finally perked his attention.

“I think Jackie slept with him, too. I feel bad for Coach Warblitz, he’s such a nice guy,”

“What a skank.”

Okay, not that part.

“Hey, isn’t he the one who got his dick stuck in a Sprite bottle?”

“Oh, he totally is. Freak.”

Brendon had stopped taking notes mid-sentence and involuntarily leaned towards the girls when he heard that. This was definitely a unique rumor he had not heard before at any of his previous schools. Which led his mind to ponder, who starts a rumor like that if it’s not true? The people at this place are not that creative.

“I heard William slept with him too.”

“Oh, William? He’s so gay.”

“He so is. They both are. Didn’t stop Jackie from fucking him, though. Poor Coach.”

Slowly, Brendon lifted his gaze to see if he could figure out who ‘he’ was. It was a fruitless effort; he knew none of these kids yet and couldn’t possibly draw a conclusion when they were so anonymous to him. It could be any one of them. He could not even be in this class.

Sighing, Brendon brought his attention back to his notes. He would get to the bottom of this somehow.

***
One week later, he still had no name to attach to the juicy rumor. He’d heard it, though, at least once a day since then, from the mouths of all different cliques in all different grades. Every time it was ‘he’. Never a name.

Brendon didn’t know why he cared so much. The margins of his notes were filled with drawings of Sprite bottles, clearly proving how much this has occupied his mind. The logical thing to ease his curiosity would be to just ask someone, ask anyone, since everyone seemed to know about it. But that seemed too easy for Brendon. He liked a mystery.

***

Every time Brendon opened the refrigerator at home, he would blush when he saw the 2-liter green bottle with white lettering that sat next to the milk. It’s been sitting there for quite some time, no doubt flat by now. He just hasn’t been able to bring himself to drink it. Or to throw it away.

He’s afraid of what might happen if that Sprite bottle gets in his hands.

***

A few weeks later and he’s starting to get the hang of things. He knows most of the people’s names in his classes. A couple of them even say ‘hi’. He’s found a spot to sit at lunch with some band geeks (or ‘sexually-active pothead band geeks’ as they’d introduced themselves to him), letting him feel like less of an outsider, even if he wasn’t quite sexually active or really a pothead. He was at least in band. And a geek.

Still no name for that rumor. His lunchtime crowd doesn’t gossip like the rest of the school, which he’s grateful for. Listening to people talk behind other people’s backs gets a little old after a while. And redundant. Really, could Jackie have slept with every guy at the school?

“Hey Brendon, you wanna go to the mall tonight?” asks April, the one who had first invited him to eat lunch with her and her crowd. His one friend so far.

“Um, no, that’s okay,” he answers, fiddling with his empty Ziploc bag, folding it into a neat square. “I’ve got some shit to do.”

“Oh, okay. That’s cool.”

***

There’s this one cute boy in nearly all of his classes that Brendon’s been kinda infatuated with.

And maybe he’s been stalking him, just a little.

Every day after school still constitutes as a little, right?

Brendon could have a problem with obsessions. He’s not sure. He doesn’t really have the time to think about it in between drawing pictures of Sprite bottles and stalking that cute kid, anyway.

***

Today, Brendon follows the burgundy Jetta the cute kid drives to some used records shop. He sits in the parking lot for about three minutes before entering himself, as to not seem suspicious. Immediately upon entry, Brendon stakes out at the nearest CD rack so he can admire the boy, who’s clear across the store.

Glance down. Glance up.

Glance down. Glance up.

The boy is wearing impossibly tight jeans which hug his teeny-tiny waist and an equally-as-tight green shirt that stops just short enough to reveal a thin patch of tan skin which Brendon’s eyes instantly travel to every time he looks up.

Glance down. Glance up.

The boy’s hair looks different than normal. Usually, the overgrown brown tresses are pressed and styled to perfection, but today they simply fall in soft, unruly waves around his face. Brendon likes it better this way.

Glance down. Glance up.

Glance down. Glance up.

Glace down. Glance—hey, where the fuck did he go?

“You know, I’d never peg you as the type of person who listens to sixties girl groups.”

The CD nearly flies out of Brendon’s hands, he’s so startled. He knows who it is before he even turns around. Instantly, his blood courses through his veins at twice its regular speed.

“Uh….y-yeah,” Brendon stammers, placing the CD back and turning around to see the boy mere inches from his face. “I l-love that music.”