Air so Cold, Mind so Bitter.

“Mr. Urie!” greeted one of his pupils, called Leila, high-fiving him as she walked into the classroom, settling down on a chair, guitar in case, on her back.
He loved his job, he really did. Music was his passion, always had been, and he loved to pass on this passion to others, who were genuinely interested. Students who had begun the class being sceptics were now just as interested as he was, because he made it enjoyable. It wasn’t so much a class, more of a chill out room. You grab your instrument, you learn to play, you practice your ass off and then you can play the music you really want to play. Brendon played a multitude of instruments, so he could teach them anything they wanted to do. If he couldn’t play a certain instrument they were interested in, he was more than happy to learn how.
He was a liked teacher and he treated his students as equals, so he had earned their respect and they knew not to mess around. They all assumed that if they got on the wrong side of him, it would scare them for life. It was only Brendon that knew he was a big push over and found it almost impossible to be angry.
The students soon poured in, all greeting him in friendly ways, nothing like a teacher. He’d been asked a handful of times to do the Sex Ed classes because the students could approach him, but he really, really didn’t want to. He felt embarrassed in high school when he had to be in these classes, he would feel even more embarrassed if he had to teach it. It’s not like he had much knowledge on the matter, anyway.

Don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant, and die.

“Alright class, shut up and listen,” he smiled, clapping his hands together once. “The other teachers, of whom I shall not name, apparently think I’m not teaching you enough of the theory bit. I hate it just as much as you, so don’t whine, because you’re all going to pass this class,”
“What is the theory stuff, Mr. Urie?” asked Jake from the back of the room, slouching in his chair, twirling his wooden, beaten drum sticks.
“Ahh, now that is the million dollar question. You my friends, have to learn about the history of jazz, where it originated and that bull shit. I find it interesting, but I have to, it’s my job, but instead I opted for something a little easier. You all have to write an essay on either an act, movement, or album, on how it has affected music and write a two thousand word review. I have to assign the topic for each of you, and I assumed you’d all want to do an album, so I’ve bought a collection of albums that I believe have affected music in some way. So, Georgia Fraser, you’re first,” he nodded, pulling an album out of the box, smiling at the choice. She put down her ukulele and walked towards him – she was the typical prep, and really wanted to get into Brendon’s pants. He knew this, so it was a little uncomfortable when he taught her.
“Appetite for Destruction by Guns ‘n’ Roses. This is fucking fantastic. I don’t think it’s to your taste but hey, that’s what you get,” he shrugged, passing her the album.
“I’m sure anything you like, I’ll like, Brendon,” she purred, batting her eyelashes as she sat down.
“Hey.” he pointed. “That’s Mr. Urie to you, chica,”
He worked his way through the students, and one album in particular caused uproar.
“Adam Harrison, you get Lady Gaga – The Fame,”
Uproar.
“How the fuck has that changed music? It’s a main-stream, pointless piece of-”
“Hey, hey, calm down Sam. And watch the language, I’m allowed to swear because I say so. I didn’t say it was brilliant, I said it has changed music, which in terms of record sales, it has. Plus, it’s an alright album. Just don’t shoot me for saying that,” he laughed, giving the album to Sam, who sulked and sank down in his chair.
Some of the other albums included an array of Beatles, Thriller by Michael Jackson and Discovery by Daft Punk. All classics in his mind, but he loved a lot of music besides country.

The last bell soon rang, and he smiled again, shouting “See you tomorrow! Listen to those albums and start writing that essay, finish it by the week and I’ll have dough-nuts.”
“Sweet!” chimed a few people as they left the class. One student was left, Chris McLeod. He had a lot of papers to stack up, so Brendon helped him.
“Thanks, Mr. Urie,”
“I’m always here to help,” he beamed.
“Um, yeah, so, uh, speaking of helping, can you maybe help me with something?”
He put down the papers on a desk and folded his arms.
“Oh, sure, what’s up Chris?”
“It doesn’t relate to music. But you’re the adult I can actually talk to, so, yeah,” he blushed.
“That’s fine. Glad to know I’m approachable,” he smiled. “So...?”
“I’m, uh,” he stuttered, taking a step forwards, then suddenly bursting into tears. Brendon panicked, checking the door was shut, then pulled Chris into a hug, rubbing his back.
“Hey, it’s alright,” he cooed.
He sniffed and hugged Brendon back. He knew he wasn’t meant to do this with his students, but Chris was almost hysterical, he can’t just sit there and watch him cry.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he whispered, letting go of Chris. The boy nodded.
“My parents, they j-just found out I was gay, and now th-they’re kicking me out. It’s either that or go the church to get ‘cured’ from being gay. How did you d-deal with it in the beginning?”
“Chris, I’m not actually-”
His speech was cut off by his student taking another step forwards and placing his lips on Brendon’s. His immediate reaction was to push Chris away, but he didn’t do it with great force, knowing that his student was in a very sensitive place right now.
His eyes darted back to the door, and it was still firmly shut.
“You should go before you miss your bus,” he said quietly.
“Mr. Urie, please, I-”
“Go.”
Chris sniffed and nodded, grabbing his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Brendon put a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Why did you kiss me?”
“Because, y’know, you seem like such an amazing guy and you always care for all of us, and I guess, I don’t know. If I’m being honest I think I like you, and you’re gay, right? Plus I’m 18 and-”
“Chris, I’m glad you know I care about all of you, but I could get fired if this ever gets out. Students and teachers are just something that shouldn’t happen. I’m not gay, either,”
“Really?” he asked quietly, kissing him again, letting it linger. Brendon wanted to break away, or more of the fact he needed to break away, but Chris’ lips were so soft and tender, so he eased into it a little. Chris dropped his bag and slid his arms around Brendon’s waist, pulling him closer, beginning to nibble on Brendon’s lips.
Brendon pushed Chris away with force, so they both fell to the ground, breathless. He almost felt like crying himself.
“Chris,” he choked out. “This is so very, very wrong,”
“I’m sorry, I know I p-pushed it out too far, I’m so sorry Mr. U-Urie,” he mumbled, looking down.
“It’s alright, but please, for both your sake and mine, say nothing. I will help you, okay? It’s parents evening soon and if you want me to bring your sexuality up, I can, or I can just offer you whatever advice I can conjure up after class,”
“The l-latter, please,” he stuttered. “I’m sorry,”
“Like I said, it’s alright. You better go, I can hear your bus pulling up,”
He nodded, grabbing his bag and running out of the room, slamming the door in a hurry. Brendon just sat there, wanting to scream and throw a fit, crying and swearing at every opportunity. He was so fucking lonely and it hurt – he’d sunk as low as to let a student kiss him, then retaliate and kiss back. He was disgusted in himself, but he didn’t cry. He gathered up his work and slipped it into his messenger bag, pulling on his blazer and locking the instruments up, guitar on back and bag over shoulder.

Then he remembered he had a date tonight with Marina. That only made his mood worse, because she was a great girl, fantastic, even, but she probably only thought of tonight as a ‘friend date’. Something to do, a way to waste some time. He could tell that she enjoyed his company and they had fun together, but he could see her becoming one of his best friends if he didn’t make a move soon.
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She looked at the clock, suddenly realizing she had a little under twenty minutes before Brendon was arriving, and she wasn’t ready in the slightest. He wouldn’t tell her what they were doing, but to wear something smart-casual, if she wanted, that was. He didn’t want to seem pushy and be the kind of guy that tells the girl what to do – “You will wear this because your cleavage is shown nicely, you will not talk to any other man, we will talk about politics and you shall have the salad because I don’t want you getting fat.”
Both Brendon and Marina could not stand those type of people, who could barely be classified as that. Their actions were more robotic than anything.

She ran into her room, brushing her brunette locks, pinning a section back with a kirby grip. She pulled on a black and white strapless dress, with a belt, to try and give her some semblance of a waist. Black, sheen tights smothered her long legs and some purple pumps covered her feet. A few purple accessories were added – necklace, bracelet, earrings – and she made her make-up a little more heavy. As her arms were bare, she grabbed a simple black jacket to keep her warm if they were outside.

There was a knock on her door, so she quickly rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, then sprinted to the door, opening it to see Brendon in dark skinny jeans with a dress shirt and tie. He smiled and pulled her into a hug, Marina gladly accepting the embrace and easing into it.
“You look amazing!” he chimed as they broke away. “I feel awful now, considering what we’re doing and how gorgeous you look,”
She felt a blush creep to her cheeks, then she raised an eyebrow, which she seemed to do pretty frequently when around Brendon. “And what is it that we are doing?”
“Mud wrestling,” he said nonchalantly.
“You’re joking.”
“Damn it,” he laughed. “I suppose my poker face isn’t as great as first planned. I promise it’s nothing that odd, okay?”
“The first thing you should know about me, Urie,” she said, grabbing a clutch bag and shutting her door, locking it. “Is that I hate it when I’m left in the dark,”
“That’s something you’ll have to deal with, I’m afraid,” he smiled, holding out his hand for her to take. She slapped it away.
“No action for you until you tell me where we’re going,”
“Hand-holding is classified as action? Damn girl, who brought you up?”
“Shut it, you. You’re lucky I didn’t wear heels or I’d be taller than you. That would be a sight and a half,”
“Shut it, you,” he mocked and they held hands anyway, out of the apartment building in a matter of seconds, walking down the sidewalk, the sunset rays pelting their faintly tanned skin. The sky was an array of both autumnal and vibrant, almost citrus colors. The sun would be gone in a few hours, so Brendon wanted to make the most of it whilst it was still out.
“A clue would be nice,” she said and he laughed again, tempted to kiss her cheek, but he refrained.
“You’re so nosy. But it begins with ‘p’, okay? No more clues. The rest is for me to know and you to enjoy,” he beamed, flashing his teeth.
“Urie, you’re a right pain in the ass sometimes,”
“Trust me, I know.” he smirked and found the courage to kiss her cheek.