Do I need to smile?

By the end of the week, I felt as if Public Policy was killing me. My professor had no interest in discussing the philosophical impact of net neutrality, and she definitely didn't think that the solution to most of the current issues in our society was to have a philosopher king ruling the country, just like in Plato's "The Republic." I constantly complained about the class to anyone who would listen, but I did have a few things going for me. My other classes were going well, and I had a steady job and plenty of friends, although Brendon was acting a little strangely.

One day, after a particularly miserable Public Policy lecture, I walked back to Flack Hall through the snow and ice that covered the campus. I was contemplating dropping Public Policy, since it clearly wasn't the class that I thought it would be, but I later decided that would be a bad idea. Most of the other social science classes would likely have similar issues.

My boots were completely soaked, and I almost slipped on a patch of ice as I approached my residence hall. However, as I got closer, I saw a strange sight. I couldn't believe my eyes until I reached the door and confirmed that they were truly there.

Someone had left a bouquet of roses in front of Flack Hall.

I carefully picked up the bouquet and appreciated the flowery scent that the red roses gave off. Then, I searched for a tag to see if they were for anyone in particular. If the roses weren't for me, then it would be wrong of me to even touch them. Why had I done that anyways? I should have looked for a tag first to see who they were for.

I found a small tag attached to the bouquet, and my eyes widened as I read it.

To Ryan Ross: I think you need to smile.

As it turned out, the roses were for me, but who had sent them? There was no indication anywhere on the bouquet, although I did have my suspicions. I brought the flowers into the residence hall and brushed the snow off of them before I climbed upstairs into my dorm room. I didn't have anywhere to put the roses, so they simply rested next to my bed. Maybe I would be able to buy a vase for them over the weekend.

"Where did you get those?" Patrick asked as he briefly looked up from his chemistry textbook.

"I found them outside of Flack Hall, and the tag said that they were for me," I said. "I don't know who sent them though."

"It looks like you've got a secret admirer, Ryan," Patrick said.

"I suppose so," I said with a smile. Whoever had sent the roses had gotten their wish.

A part of me wanted to believe that Brendon had sent the roses. Leaving a bouquet of flowers in front of Flack Hall seemed like the sort of thing that he would do, but at the same time, that seemed like wishful thinking. Brendon had never shown any sort of romantic interest in me, and this seemed like a rather romantic gesture. Then again, nobody at Kale seemed interested in me romantically. How could I say for sure who had sent the flowers?

"Do you have any idea who might have sent them?" I asked Patrick.

Patrick shook his head. "How would I know?" he asked. "I didn't send the bouquet, but it could be anyone else."

That didn't narrow things down very much. I hoped that it was Brendon, but there was no way to be sure of that unless I asked him. The idea terrified me, even though I would have to do it if I wanted to know who sent the roses. In the end, my curiosity and affection for Brendon outweighed my fear, and I told myself that I would talk to Brendon that night.

A few hours later, I walked to the Aubergine, and I was already starting to regret my decision. What if Brendon didn't send the roses? What if he didn't like me at all? What if he hated me for even asking? What if he did send the roses, but it wasn't meant to be romantic? What if he did send the roses, and he wanted to be with me, but he ended up being a terrible boyfriend? What if he was secretly a squid monster?

The "what if" questions didn't leave my mind until I spotted the neon purple sign and entered the Aubergine. My hand was shaking as I pulled the door open, and for once, I was hoping that Brendon wouldn't be there at all so that I wouldn't have to face him. Because I just happen to have horrible luck, Brendon was standing there, waiting for me.

My heart was thumping against my chest as I made my way towards him. Brendon, on the other hand, was casually sipping his peach and lime daiquiri, as if nothing was unusual or different about this night. Maybe he didn't send the roses after all, I thought. If Brendon didn't send the roses, then who did?

"Hey Ryan," Brendon said with a smile. "What's up?"

"I've had a bizarre day today," I said.

"What happened?" Brendon asked.

"I came back to my residence hall after Public Policy today, and somebody left me a bouquet of roses," I said. "The tag said that they were for me, but I don't know who sent them."

"Did they make you smile?" Brendon asked.

I grinned and said, "They did make me smile." I looked back at Brendon and saw that his brown eyes were looking directly into mine. Could Brendon have sent me the roses? I only had to ask. "Did...did you send them?" I asked.

Brendon blushed and said, "Yes, I sent the roses."

I didn't know what to think. Did Brendon like me? If he didn't, then why had he sent those roses? He did look a little lonely, but I didn't think that was the only reason. In the end, I decided to simply say, "Thank you, Brendon. They're lovely flowers."

"You're welcome," Brendon said, smiling. "I'm glad you liked them." There was a brief, awkward moment of silence before Brendon said, "Can I ask you something, Ryan?"

"Of course," I said. "Answering questions is one of my great passions in life, along with music, eyeliner, and contemplating my own existence."

"RyanRosswillyoupleasegoonadatewithme?" Brendon blurted out.

"Brendon, you have to speak a little slower," I said. "I couldn't understand a word that you just said."

Brendon took a deep breath and then said, "Ryan, you are brilliant, fun to be around, possibly the most beautiful man that I have seen in a very long time, one of my favorite people in the whole world, and you are taking me apart like bad glue on a get well card. Will you please go on a date with me?"

Normally, I think through my answers to questions, but at that moment, I had to go with my instinctual reaction. "Yes!" I exclaimed. "I'd love to go out with you, Brendon. When would you like to go on our date?"

"Are you available tomorrow?" Brendon asked.

"I have a meeting with my philosophy professor at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, but after that, I'm free until nine in the afternoon," I said.

"How about this?" Brendon suggested. "I'll pick you up at Flack Hall at four, and we'll wander around Old Haven for a while. There's this Thai restaurant downtown that we can have dinner at."

"That sounds wonderful," I said. Despite the fact that I had lived in Old Haven for the last several months, I hadn't seen much of the town surrounding campus. Brendon would be the perfect person to take me on a tour.

At that moment, Spencer just happened to walk into the Aubergine. "Hey Ryan. Hey Brendon," he said. "What's up?"

I looked towards Brendon, and he gave me a quick shrug, as if he knew the question that I was about to ask. After some thought, I decided not to tell Spencer quite yet. This could stay between Brendon and I for a little bit longer. Besides, what if the date went badly? If that happened, then I would be glad that I hadn't told Spencer yet. I did have a feeling that the date would go well, but I also knew that I could never predict the future, and my feelings for Brendon were likely clouding my judgment.

As the three of us prepared for our show, I had to keep myself from floating off into space. The impossible had happened: the objectively beautiful Brendon Urie had asked me out. There was no way that I couldn't be excited about that. I just had to have some composure for another hour or two, and then I could freak out as much as I wanted when I returned to Flack Hall. Patrick might judge me, but at least I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of Brendon.

At nine in the afternoon, the show began. Our shows were always magical, but somehow, that performance was even better than usual. Brendon's voice sounded more beautiful than I ever thought it could, and he stayed perfectly in time with Spencer and I. Even the other people in the Aubergine seemed to notice how well we were playing.

Everything about that night was just perfect.

After the show, Brendon and I talked for a little while before he squeezed my hand and said, "See you tomorrow, Ryan."

"See you tomorrow, Brendon," I said as I left the Aubergine. It was freezing outside, but my thoughts of Brendon kept me warm as I walked back to Flack Hall. Was there anything better than this? I wasn't sure if Heaven and Hell existed, but if they did, then this must be what Heaven felt like.

I entered Flack Hall again and climbed up to Room 27. As usual, Patrick was resting on his bed, reading a book. He looked up for a moment and said, "You seem a little bit off. Did something happen at the Aubergine Dream?"

I nodded and said, "Brendon sent me the roses."

"That explains a lot," Patrick said.

"How was your evening?" I asked Patrick.

"It was uneventful," he said. "I forgot to tell you, but I got the internship that I applied for."

"Are you talking about the one at the Old Haven Veterinary Hospital?" I asked. Patrick nodded, and I said, "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Patrick said. "I'm starting tomorrow morning."

"Have fun," I told him.

"I will," Patrick replied as he put his book away and crashed back onto his bed. I got into bed as well, but I couldn't sleep, and it wasn't because of the Greek Friendship Society's party. My mind was buzzing with thoughts of Brendon Urie, and they just wouldn't go away. It was the best kind of insomnia, and I couldn't help but smile every time I thought of him.