S K I T T L E S (spazzyfic) wrote,

I Don't Have a Library Card... But I'd Love to Check You Out [1/24]

Title: I Don't Have a Library Card... But I'd Love to Check You Out [1/24]
Author: Tiffany (spazzyskittles)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
POV: 1st (Brendon's)
Summary: AU college. Brendon is close to flunking out of college, and his roommate and partner in crime, Jon, is not helping. He seeks refuge in the school's library and finds a little more than a place to study. This is a story about finding love, taking chances, and being true to one's self.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Don't sue.
Author Notes: This is a completed story and will be updated every other day. Many thanks to my wonderful beta, pinkkchocolate. This fic may not have happened without her. Additional A/N at the end of the chapter.



Chapter 1

This all began because I am a dumb-ass.

Yup, I’m admitting it. It was all my fault, really. When I moved into my dorm at UNLV, I went a bit nuts. You know, first time away from strict parents and all that. Every night, my roommate Jon and I would just goof off. Every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, we’d go out to a party (or two or three), dance with random girls (or guys in my case), and get completely shit-faced. Sunday through Wednesday, we’d play video games all night and crack open a couple of beers. On a rare night, we’d open our textbooks to make it seem like we care about school, but we’d give up in the end. And don’t even get me started about going to class. Let’s just say, on the off-chance we actually go to our classes, we more often than not end up sleeping through them.

Now, I’ve been saying “we”. Yes, Jon and me. But then why am I the one on academic probation and not him? Well, I guess Jon could have told me that he’s some kind of genius. Yeah, who would’ve thought, right? Apparently, those rare times he’d study and go to class were enough for him to pass. Hell, he got B’s without even trying. Unfocused brilliance, I guess.

Yeah, well I’m no genius. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I got an email from UNLV saying that I was being put on academic probation. Needless to say, it got my attention so I dragged my ass out of bed to my department’s office. I’m still undeclared, and I should have been seeing my counselor to help me try and figure out what the hell I want to do with the rest of my life. Or at least what I’m going to major in. But, I haven’t. I didn’t even know where I was supposed to go; I had to look it up. When I got there, I signed in and silently took a seat in front of the counselors’ offices.

So that’s where I am now, still waiting. I’ve got my hands buried in the pockets of my hoodie, and I’m staring at my Nikes, trying to avoid looking at the other people in the room.

Finally, the door opens and a woman who appears to be in her fifties walks over to the clipboard on the table. She looks at it for a minute and then says, “Brandon Urie?”

I roll my eyes, annoyed. “It’s Brendon,” I correct her. I stand up as she says, “Follow me.”

She leads me into her office and gestures for me to sit down. As she’s walking over to her chair, I glance at the nameplate on the desk and see that her name is Marjorie Phelps.

“Have you been to see me before?” she asks.

“No.” It would be a weird question, but there are so many students at this school and about a third of all freshmen come in undeclared, so I’m sure she sees a lot of people.

“Have you seen any of the other counselors before?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well Brendon, I’m Ms. Phelps. What are you here to see me about?” she asks amiably.

“I got an email saying I’ve been put on academic probation,” I say a little bitterly. I know it’s not her fault, but I can’t help but want to put the blame on someone else anyway.

“I see. Let me bring up your degree progress report.” I inwardly scoff because I know my DPR is a huge mess. It basically shows all the units I’ve taken, all the classes I’ve taken, my grades, my GPA, and my requirements. Well, let’s see. My GPA and grades are fucked up, and I’ve taken the minimum amount of units I need to stay a student.

She types in my name and student ID, and I can see it come up. On the top, I can see the letters “AP” in red. In high school, AP meant you were taking advanced courses. In college, AP means you’re practically flunking out of college. How ironic.

Ms. Phelps looks over it for a minute, and I’m just hoping she doesn’t start laughing. Finally, she turns back to me.

“I’m required to tell you exactly what being on academic probation means. That way there isn’t any confusion.”

“You were put on AP because last quarter, your GPA fell to 1.84. If you go below a 2.0 and are above a 1.5, you’re automatically put on AP.”

“Okay,” I say. Wow. I really did fuck up.

“This means that you have 2 quarters to bring your GPA up to a 2.0 and keep it up. If you don’t reach it, or if you do and then fall back again while on probation, you’ll be subject to dismissal.” I blink.

“Basically,” I say, just to make sure I know where I stand, “I’m flunking out of college?”

“If you want to say it in that way, yes. There’s the possibility. But you do have a chance to get back in good standing. Tell me Brendon, have you been going to class?”

I blush because I’m sure she knows the answer. “Not really.”

“Well, let me give you some advice. Go to class. All of them. And do your homework. You seem like a bright young man. You just need to apply yourself.”

“Okay.” There really isn’t anything I can say to that. Her “advice” is pretty much just good sense. But I guess I haven’t been using my good sense so I can’t really fault her for saying any of that.

“Is there anything else that I can help you with? Have you maybe decided on a major?”

“No, not yet. I guess I’m done here,” I say, getting up.

“All right, Brendon. And come see me if you ever feel like you need to,” Ms. Phelps says with a smile.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say as I walk out of her office.

What the fuck am I going to do now?


------------------------------


I head back to my dorm with my head hanging low as I walk. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do if I fail out of college. I'll probably end up flipping burgers for the rest of my life. I see a soda can lying on the ground ahead of me, and I grunt as I kick it, hard. It flies about 4 feet in front of me. Well, I guess I can cross soccer player off the list.

When I get back, Jon’s sitting on his bed, playing with his Nintendo DS. Without looking up, he addresses me.

“Hey, Brendon, grab yours! I just got the new Zelda.” I really want to. I do. You know how long I’ve been waiting to play this game? But I can’t.

“Sorry, Jon. I’ve got some studying to do,” I say with a sigh as I start pulling two hundred dollar textbooks out of my bag. I turn back around to go sit on my bed, and I see Jon staring at me with his mouth hanging open, DS closed and sitting in his lap. “What?”

“What happened, man?” Jon asks as if expecting me to say that someone died or something.

“I just found out I’m flunking out of school.” I tell him everything Ms. Phelps told me.

“That sucks, man,” Jon says as he picks up his game and resumes playing. Fucker, I think bitterly as I grudgingly open my book and start reading.


----------------------------


To be honest, Night One of studying didn’t go so great. I had the hardest time concentrating because Jon would start yelling at the game in his hand every two minutes. I gave up after an hour and played.

Night Two didn’t go so well either. Jon had picked up his bass and was fiddling with it. The minute he started playing the opening notes to “Caress Me Down” I just had to stick my two cents in. I threw my book off my lap, switched on my amp, and picked up my guitar so fast that I was able to actually join in on time. We spent the rest of the night learning Weezer’s “My Name Is Jonas” and rocking out while my history book lied discarded on my bed. That is until our RA came knocking on our door and threatened to write us up. Because all I need is to be put on disciplinary probation as well.

Night Three was the worst. That’s because Night Three was a Thursday, and we all know that Thursday is party night.

That night, Jon actually coaxed the pen out of my hand and laid out my clothes for me. And I got shit-faced. Again. Someone had suggested playing flip cup, and I just had to join in.

So here I am, sitting in class with a huge hangover. I really need to figure something out or else I’m screwed. I need to get away from Jon the Enabler, at least for the time being. I love the guy, but he isn’t the best study-buddy.

The professor dismisses class, and I practically drag my feet as I walk towards my dorm, trying to decide whether or not I’m going to be studying tonight. I mean, who studies on a Friday? But then again, I didn’t really get much done last night. Or the night before. Or the night before that. Yeah, I should study. It’s just going to be hard to concentrate because I know Jon’s going to want to go out tonight. I’m just going to have to be firm with him this time.

I reach into my pocket to fish out my iPod so that I could change the song, but I lose my grip on it. It flies out of my hand towards a set of steps. After I pick it up, I look up, my eyes following the steps up to a set of double doors, and it’s as if I can hear a choir of angels singing.

In large letters above the doors, I see the word “LIBRARY.”



-------------------------

A/N:

Welcome to my fic. I have spent months working on this, and I'm excited that I get to show this to you all.

I hope you guys really give this a chance. I've noticed that there aren't very many college AUs that deal with the actual culture of college life so this is my attempt to rectify that. Here is what came about after taking one too many naps in the library.

No Ryan or Spencer yet, but don't worry, they'll show up eventually.

And friend spazzyfic for updates.
Tags: chaptered, library
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