Happy 28th Birthday to an amazing and talented singer/songwriter/guitarist, an inspiration and a hero: 
George Ryan Ross III

Les Fleurs du Mal (Ryden fic)


Summary: Ryan, a french introvert, has been chosen to study at the Institute of Litterature Studies in New York.

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permalink - posted 1 week ago with 271,055 notes
Les Fleurs du Mal (Ryden fic)


Summary: Ryan, a french introvert, has been chosen to study at the Institute of Litterature Studies in New York.

- Chapter 2 (PG-13) -

Monday morning comes too fast for my liking. Brendon didn’t talk to me since our argument, neither did his friends, they don’t put any effort in talking to me, and it’s not in my nature to force the conversation with anybody. I sat in silence through breakfast while the other guys talked about the first party they’re going to on Friday night. I’m not a party guy. I always end up sitting in a corner, a drink in my hand, waiting for the night to end. I don’t think they plan on inviting me and I’m quite thankful for it. Just when I’m about to go sit in the rest room, I feel a hand landing on my shoulder, making me jump and almost shriek. I turn around at the speed of light and see Spencer smiling at me, I smile back the best I can.

“T’es toujours énervé?” he asks me. The same student as yesterday passes by and shakes his head at us, is he spying on us or something? Maybe he’s Mr. Disapproval’s son, I wouldn’t be surprised, they’re both a pain in the ass, and not the good kind.

“I’ve never really been angry, not with you anyway.”

“Great, I thought you were mad, you didn’t say anything during breakfast, not even a good morning.” he seems genuinely upset by that. I feel like I kicked a puppy.

“I never say good morning. We don’t do that in my family, but I’ll try not to forget to greet you in the morning anymore, starting tomorrow.”

“Great! So, what did you plan to bring to class?”

“My bag, a pen and papers? We don’t have to bring anything special, do we?” I ask back, suddenly panicked about having forgotten something, even though in the worst case I’d just have to buy more stuff at the school’s store, but my brain always feel the need to make me freak out.

“In my high school everything was detailed: brown pencil case in leather but not real leather because we love cows, three copybooks, one each color of the French flag, a dark blue-”

“I don’t think the Institute is that picky, don’t worry.” He nods, “What kind of school did you go to?”

“Uhm, let’s say it was a private school.”

“It’s more complicated than that?”

“So, when are classes starting? I didn’t really look at my timetable; I have to be glued to Jon anyway, I shouldn’t get lost.” he changes the subject like it’s nothing and I don’t insist, I don’t want to make my only friend ill-at-ease.

“Do you get along with him?” I saw them talking a lot so I assume they get along, but I need to keep the conversation going because if I don’t, we’ll fall in an awkward silence.

“Oh, yes I do, he’s really nice, and he’s not bitchy when I ask him to repeat what he just said because I didn’t understand completely, and he helps me find my words too. And you with Brendon?”

“Not much.”

“He’s like a newborn baby; he loves everybody, what did you do?” he asks raising an eyebrow. Why is it obviously my fault and not his? Because it is his fault after all, he loves everybody, mon cul.

“I didn’t do anything, we argued a bit and he got mad because some of my words came out in french, and I’m not aware of laws in this country but I doubt it’s a crime.”

“Chill vieux, we were all exhausted yesterday, he won’t be mad at you for long.”

I nod and none of us add anything. Classes start in about half an hour, so we take our bags to our respective rooms. I have to find Brendon and talk to him. It’s not that I want to, though. I’m like a child inside: after an argument, I hide until the other person comes to me, but I’m obliged if I want to find the classroom, plus he’s my chaperone or something like that. I take my messenger bag I put next to my desk earlier, no sign of Brendon. I sigh like I always do and go to Spencer’s room.
On my way, I pass Gabe’s room and hear sloppy kissing noises, I walk faster pretending I didn’t hear anything, discretion is clearly not his thing. When I arrive to room 89, Spencer is standing on the doorstep with Jon, their shoulder bags held by a single shoulder, Spencer’s face lights up when he sees me coming, and to be completely honest, it warms me up to see someone genuinely happy to see me. In a way, he reminds me of my mother, even if he last saw me five minutes ago, he’s still happy to see me coming, like these five minutes were days. Jon high fives me when I reach them, his face emotionless but he still seems nicer than Alex with a big smile on his face, ce fumier. We don’t move for a while, the other guys joining us by two, Gabe and William I think, arrive after Josh and Alex, strands of hair sticking out here and there. William’s hair is almost as long as mine, he could make an effort and invest in a hairbrush, it would look less like an I-just-got-out-of-bed look. We wait a while more, waiting for Brendon who still hasn’t shown up; he’s always late according to Josh but Jon adds that he’s never that late. We head for our first class, assuming Brendon will join us there, once we’re in the right room, well it’s more of an amphitheater than a class room but I won’t point it out. I sit next to Spencer and put my bag on the seat next to me, in case Brendon decides to show up in class. A dark haired girl sits two seats away from me, she smiles at me and introduces herself as ‘Liv, like the gorgeous Liv Tyler’. I smile back at her and introduce myself as well. She’s about to tell me something when Brendon decides to show up and sits right on my bag, taking his stuff out casually.

“I waited for you earlier.” Ladies and gentleman, George Ryan Ross the third just started a conversation after an argument, that’s a first. I should receive an award or la légion d’honneur.

“Sorry mom.” he mumbles, not even looking at me.

“You don’t like me that’s okay, I really don’t like you either, but like you said yesterday, we’re stuck together for at least a year, so let’s try to act civilized and not like we’re still in kindergarten.” I say low enough for no one to hear but loud enough for him to.

“You know a lot about kindergarten, you have the same mindset as kids there.”

“I’m not the one who acted like a baby because a few French words were thrown in the conversation by mistake.”

“Yes, you’re just the kid who throws a tantrum when someone says a little thing you don’t like. Real mature, the Quiet.” he scoffs. I’m not a violent person, I’m the only guy my age who can’t watch a horror movie, I’ve never been involved in any fist fights, but right now, punching him in the face seems appealing. I’d feel better, he’d be less attractive and maybe with chance he’d stop acting like a dick for no reason. Keep dreaming, Ross.

“What’s your problem exactly, tête d’enclume?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“My problem is that my roommate sucks when all my friends’ seem pretty cool. My problem is that I talk to a wall unless I say something to upset you, my problem is you using your fucking french every two seconds.” he keeps his voice low but I can feel he’s getting angrier every second.

“You’re the reason of your own problem, you don’t know me at all so you can’t say I suck, you don’t make me want to talk to you, at all, yes I’m quiet, it takes time for me to be enough at ease to talk a lot but you don’t even try to make me at ease. I use french because it’s my language, I’ve been speaking french for nineteen years, so yes sometimes a few words will slip out of my mouth. You’re studying french, so I don’t see why it bothers you that much anyway.” breathe you dumbfuck I’ve talked more in a minute than I did since I arrived Saturday, wow.

He finally looks up at me, he’s staring, he doesn’t blink for so long I’m getting worried his eyes might dry and fall on the desk, but thanks God, they don’t. However, he doesn’t add anything and turn his attention back to the main desk where a teacher is now standing, arms crossed over his chest. He’s one of the two teachers we will have this year, he’s an english teacher, the other one will be a french teacher, we’re about twenty french students in the Institute which is not that many, but apparently they’re picky about who gets to study here. Our english teacher seems nice, he’s tall but not taller than me, his hair is long but they’re tied in a ponytail, he has a bit of stubble freshly trimmed, his wide light blue eyes make him look younger than he probably is. He’s pretty attractive. We’re thirty minutes in the class when I feel Brendon’s gaze glued on me, I glance at him, he barely blinks, his eyes are going to dry one day, I swear. After what feels like an eternity at being stared at, I turned to face him and raise an eyebrow as a silent question.

“It’s not polite to drool over your teacher, plus he’s straight, sorry.” he whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips. I was not- wait, what? How does he know I’m gay? Or is he saying this as a joke?

“I was not drooling, dickhead.” I whisper back.

“My gaydar has never failed me in my entire existence, I was five and I knew my neighbour was gay before his own wife got dumped for another man. Ouch.” he looks at me more closely and adds, “I don’t like you because you’re someone I can imagine getting along with, not a second, not because you love cocks, let’s make it clear before you play the ‘you’re an homophobic’ card.” I roll my eyes and ignore him the rest of the class.

I’m not one of those gays who act like everytime something happens to them or someone hate them, the reason is their homosexuality. I’ve strongly disliked black people in the past, and it wasn’t because they were black at all, being in a minority is not always the reason why someone hates you or don’t hire you for a job or something. Most of the time it is though, we live in a world where three quarters of the population is narrow minded.

We have an hour of class with our french teacher, then it’s lunch time and we’re free for the afternoon, perks of first day at school, but tomorrow we’re spending all morning with Mr. Leto and all the afternoon with Mr. Debussy, it roughly will be the same thing everyday. If you don’t like one of the teachers, you’re fucked because you will have to stand him every day for three hours. The hour with Mr. Debussy is passing faster than the previous hour, Spencer cracks a few jokes discreetly, he’s more at ease when he can joke and follow the course of the class at the same time, instead of concentrating on each word coming out of the teacher’s mouth. Having a quiet laugh is useful right now, the teacher doesn’t even notice me and Spencer half listening to him, half laughing about a stupid joke. Lunch passes in silence, well for me at least, Brendon decides to finally talk, awfully loudly, I’m going to have a headache if he doesn’t stop right about now. At first I think Gabe is glancing at me but I quickly notice that he’s looking at William instead, am I the only one who doesn’t get along with his roommate? William is too nice to be friends with Gabe and Josh too nice to be friends with Alex, I’m too nice to be friends with Brendon but unlike the others we’re not friends, so did I miss something in the welcoming papers, something about how to make a friend out of your annoying roommate?

A couple of hours later, we all go back to our rooms to work on the homework Mr. Debussy gave us for tomorrow, it’s a translation, so it won’t take too long, well it shouldn’t in normal circumstances but when the World War III started between you and your ‘homework partner’ it might take a while to be done. I sit at my desk waiting for Brendon to bring his chair next to mine, you would say it’s a simple action right? Well not for him, the guy who decided to piss me off until I breakdown and punch him in the face and get kicked out of the school. When he finally sits down next to me, he sighs and picks at his nails, a slight pout on his lips.

“Translate the second text, I will do the first, we’ll put in common after, deal?” I say already starting to work on the first text, it’s an extract from Thérèse Raquin by Emile Zola, one of my favorite books, it’s quite simple. Brendon doesn’t say anything and starts working on the second text in silence, it’s an easier text in my sense, it’s an extract from Zazie dans le Métro by Raymond Queneau, this author uses a simple vocabulary, it’s easy to read and easy to understand. He sighs every two seconds, running a hand through his hair, his leg jittering, he must have been an awful kid to raise, he can’t stay still for more than a minute. I’ll remind mom how lucky she is to have a quiet kid next time she blames me for something. I re-read everything at least three times once I’m done with my text, it looks correct so I let it be, Brendon is still half way through the first sentence and it’s far from being a tough one.

“Need help?” I ask forcing myself to be nice.

“Fuck you the Quiet, I can do this.” he says biting on his pen making it sound more like ‘uck woo duh qwied, I gan do dis’

“Fine.” I cross my arms and lean back in my chair waiting for him to finish the work, he searches in the dictionnary frantically, a frown permanently on his face. I close my eyes and hear the noises of pages being flipped getting further and further…

I get awaken by a loud noise, I sit up straight my heart thumping at the speed of light in my chest, Brendon curses and kicks the chair he was sitting on, an hour ago or maybe two. What the hell is going on? His translation is a bit longer than before my little nap, just a bit though, he’s through the third sentence. He yells curses and I turn to look at him wide eyed, what the fuck did I miss?

“What’s wrong?”

“Fuck that I’m not doing it, Debussy can go fuck himself.” he yells.

“I don’t think it’s technically possible.” I say lightly trying to calm him down.

“I’ll land him my own fucking dildo if I need to, I won’t do that shit!” he pauses breathing heavily and let himself fall on the floor so abruptly I think he might have fainted for a second. “I don’t understand a single fucking word.” he adds, almost whispering. He scared me so much I almost forgot about the dildo part, he owns a dildo? Ugh, Ross, it’s not the major problem right now.

“I can help you if you’re not a dick to me.” I tell him softly.

“You can shove your help up your ass.”

“I don’t get even get to use your dildo?” I fake being upset, he looks at me, lips pursed.

“In your dreams, the Quiet. Do the homework.” he gets up and leave the room slamming the door shut behind him.

I sigh and work on the translation he was supposed to be doing, only the first sentence was actually right, I erase the other two and finish the work. I put my hatred aside to be nice to him for once and he’s not even grateful of it, my way to calm him down was not the best but I tried. On the other hand, now I know he owns a dildo, I couldn’t bring mine because a) my mom helped me prepare my bag, b) with a roommate I don’t even see how I could have used it anyway and c) they had to look inside my bag before I embarked, what an awkward moment if I would have been caught with a dildo, it’s the kind of awkward moment that scars you for life. I’m almost done with the translation when someone knocks on the door, I open the door and find Spencer smiling at me.

“Everybody’s in mine and Jon’s room right now and you’re the only one missing.”

“Ah, I didn’t know, I have to finish this translation, I took a pause after the first text and now I pay the price and I’m late in the work.” and I thought I was a bad liar, I was wrong, the question is, why am I even lying for Brendon?

“You have a lot left? Maybe I can help you,” he sighs “j’en ai marre d’entendre parler anglais aujourd’hui et William et Alex sont comme des poissons dans l’eau, ils se fondent bien dans la masse.”

“I’m almost done, but come in.” I motion him to come in, he steps in and sits on my bed, I finish the translation and go sit next to Spencer.

“Ça va mieux avec Brendon?” he asks me, I look at him and shakes my head, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me, so tightly I think he might break one of my ribs, he has more force than it looks like. “Moi je t’aime bien tu sais.”

“Je t’aime bien aussi.” I smile at him.

He’s one of the nicest person I met in a long time, it’s good to see not everybody sucks, or at least that not everybody wants me to stay away from them. Why couldn’t Spencer be my roommate instead of the evil in person? I know each room is attributed to a french student and an american one, but still I’d love to be roommate with Spencer rather than with Brendon. After a moment of silence we decide to watch a movie, I take one of Brendon’s DVDs even though he’s not going to like it, I don’t have any DVDs and I won’t watch Moulin Rouge again, I love this movie but there are lines not to cross. We sit further on my bed, leaning against the wall, my laptop in front of us, I’ve never watched Love Actually so it’s now or never, plus Hugh Grant is not bad looking at all so it’s a little plus. I hug my knees and rests my head on Spencer’s shoulder, he rests his head against mine and that’s when Brendon decides to come in, making exaggerated gestures like he surprised us having sex.

“Oh please not you too.” he says rubbing his forehead.

“Well, where did you think we were?” Spencer tells him raising an eyebrow, that’s something we have common him and I, except that we don’t use the same eyebrow if my sight is as good as last time I checked.

“I think he meant too like t-o-o not two t-w-o.” I explain him when Brendon looks at him like he just came from another planet. Spencer looks at me then at Brendon then back at me and mouth a ‘oh’, clearly embarrassed by the misunderstanding. “What do you even mean by ‘you too’?” I ask after a moment spent in complete silence.

“Nothing, just try to be subtle please.”

“Subtle about what? We’re watching a movie together we’re not sucking each others off.” I roll my eyes and Spencer looks at me wide-eyed.

“Not yet.” Brendon points out and Spencer turns to him even more wide-eyed than the previous second and I had no idea it was technically possible without witnessing his eyes falling off of his face.

“There’s nothing going on between Spencer and I, we’re friends, plus I don’t think he swings that way.”

“I-I think I’m going to go- uhm go back in m-my room. Je te vois plus tard Ryan.” Spencer says before running out of the room, and for once I am not exaggerating he litterally ran out of the room like he was on fire and the ocean was right behind the door.

“Does he know that you are, you know?” Brendon asks me wiggling his eyebrows, why is he even talking to me? Isn’t he supposed to hate me?

“Sorry, but I don’t introduce myself as ‘Ryan a gay teen’ when I first meet someone.”

“One glance at you and it’s already obvious so no need to precise.” he smirks at me and my urge to punch him comes back.

“Have you seen yourself?” I say flatly, I’m obviously lying I’d still be oblivious about him liking guys if he didn’t bring up the fact he owns a dildo somewhere.

“First, I’m not gay, sorry to disappoint you but you won’t touch this,” he illustrates his words with a gentle tap on his ass, so perfect in these skin tight jeans, oh God. Stop that Ross, he’s the enemy, with a gorgeous ass but he’s still the enemy anyway. “like ever,” he continues, “second, I’m not the one with a girly haircut and eyeliner.”

“Could you be any more cliché? A guy can have quite long hair and wear eyeliner without necessarily being gay. William almost have the same haircut as me.”

“Which is proving my point.” he scoffs. What?

“Not everybody is gay just because you think you have a sixth sense.”

“Oh come on, he drools so much over Gabe I thought I would get drown in Jon’s room.” so that’s what he meant by ‘you too’ he thinks there’s something between Gabe and William, which is ridiculous, yes they glanced at each other the entire time at lunch, but it doesn’t mean a thing.

“I’m looking at you right now, you’re looking at me, are we drooling over each other? Not that I know of, so don’t assume he’s gay and crushing on Gabe just because he happens to look at him often.” Okay I admit this is probably not the best example I could give since I was internally drooling over his ass not even a minute ago, but he doesn’t know that.

“Are you jealous?” he says smirking, that freaking smirk that makes me want to punch him in the face to make him stop.

“Jealous of what?”

“Of Gabe, or William for that matter, but I’d say William is more your type, so there are more chances for you to be jealous of Gabe.”

“You’re exasperating, you know that?” he’s right though, William is more my type of guy than Gabe, but it doesn’t make me jealous of Gabe, I can find a guy attractive without wanting to pound his ass, look at Brendon. Okay wrong example, I know.

“Not as much as you can be the Quiet.” he winks keeping this stupid unnerving smirk plastered on his face.

I roll my eyes and sigh, I don’t understand him at all, one second he’s the biggest asshole in the history, the other he’s still an asshole but playful which almost make him bearable. “Okay, showertime for me, and you better put my DVD back where you took it once the movie is over, and if you leave a single fingerprint on it, I’ll make you regret it.” he takes his toilet bag and lock himself in the bathroom, I sigh and push play again, watching the end of the movie in silence with nobody to rest my head on. The movie ends too quickly and I carefully put it back from where I took it in Brendon’s belongings, noises are coming from the bathroom, I roll my eyes, he probably dropped something, un vrai boulet. It’s when I’m about to go back to my side of the room that I hear noises again and it was not a whine but a… a moan? I stare at the closed door wide-eyed, my stomach tightens and so does my throat, his moans turn into groans and that’s when my brain finally decides to work and make me walk back to my side of the room. The noises keep coming from behind the closed door but they’re muffled from where I am, so I can easily ignore them. I guess that’s how you’re supposed to use a dildo when you have a roommate.

He comes out of the bathroom half an hour later, a towel tightly wrapped around his hips, I catch a glimpse of the swell of his ass when he puts his toilet bag back in his closet.

“Would you mind being civilised and put clothes on? You’re not by yourself.” I mutter, staring at the ceiling.

“Oh, you’re bothered by my body? Is it too hard for you not to be aroused?” I see him smirk at me when I glance in his direction, je vais te le faire bouffer ton sourire.

“Sorry to disappoint you but I’ve seen way hotter than you.”

“Ouch,” I can hear he’s faking being hurt but I don’t point it out, “are you upset because I said you’d never get to touch my fabulous ass? Poor baby.” he talks to me like I am five, I’m going to punch you, you’ll see if I’m five. “You can touch once if you want, but after, you are nice and you stop being pissy, deal?” he adds and I hear the smirk in his voice.

“I am the pissy one? Are you kidding me?” I sit on my bed, so fast my head is spinning for a few seconds.

“Yes, you are,” he steps closer to my bed and turns his back to me, “so touch, it’s not cute to stay upset.” he smirks down at me and sticks his ass out, a few inches away from my face.

“I-uhm-I I don’t want to touch your ass and I am not upset, at least not because you said I can’t ever touch your ass, no matter how fucking gorgeous it is.” did I really just say that?

“Yes I have a gorgeous ass I know, you’d be a liar if you’d say otherwise.”

“Now get it out of my face.”

“I won’t deal with a pissy and upset Quiet.” he wiggles his ass approaching it even closer to me. What I would give for him to take off this freaking towel, wait what am I even saying, he’s the enemy, the enemy. I pat his ass and he goes lay down on his bed, laughing.

“Tomorrow, you will be nice to me and not a douche, deal?” I tell him after a while still staring at the ceiling.

“Only if you do the french homeworks for the rest of the week.”

“Fine, so, deal?”


author’s note: Chapter 2 is finally here! I don’t know if some of you waited for it to be posted but if you did I’m sorry for the wait and I hope you will love it! The next chapter will come more quickly I promise.
If you want me to send you an ask when I post a new chapter just come and ask me I’ll gladly do it. I hope non-french readers can understand the french parts, I make them as easy as I can so you can translate them via google or other devices. Still you can send me an ask if you want me to translate for you.
Thank you to the love of my life, my sunshine Lori (ryrobooty) for correcting any error I could have made.
If you didn’t read the first chapter you can find it here

self promo: It’d mean a lot to me if you could check out my writing blog here

reblog or like (or send me a little ask with your opinion, i’m opened to any suggestions)


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#fever ryden
Les Fleurs du Mal (Ryden fic)


Summary: Ryan, a french introvert, has been chosen to study at the Institute of Litterature Studies in New York.

- Chapter 1 (PG-13) -

“Fais bien attention à toi mon chéri, d’accord?”

“Oui, maman.” I mumble as my mom kisses my forehead just like she always do when she knows she’s not going to see me for a while. I hug her briefly before boarding, I turn around to look at her one more time and see her waving at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. I feel bad for leaving her, I could have chosen to go to any school here in France, but no I decided to go study on the other side of the world. I sigh as I sit down next to what looks like a business man, he looks at me from head to toe then shakes his head, in disbelief or disapproval I’m not sure. I’m not wearing a thousand dollars worth suit like him but it’s not a reason to look at me that way, he’s not even trying to be subtle in any sort of way. I feel like this flight is going to be longer than I thought. I should have booked a night flight, nine hours is not that long when you’re sleeping, but of course the only affordable flight was a daytime one. I get my notebook out, switching my position so that I can rest my notebook on my thighs comfortably and write without breaking my spine, it earns another disapproval look from the man besides me, a tut to go with it this time. I try my best to ignore him and start to write a few sentences that may or may not be ending in a poem later. I’m going to study litterature in a country that’s not mine, I must be suicidal or masochist, but a few other french students will be studying there too, and I’ve been selected among a hundred or so students. Everything is going to be fine. Mr. Disapproval turns the page of his newspaper abruptly and hits my arm causing me to drop my notebook in the alley.

“Merde.” I mutter bending over to pick up my notebook, only to face feet and no notebook, I look up and see a guy around my age handing it to me. “Merci.” I tell him as I take my notebook from his hands, he nods and sits down next to me. He’s a bit taller than me, definitely not as skinny as me, but who is anyway? His hair is almost the same color as mine except a bit lighter, he has beautiful blue eyes accentuating the softness of his gaze. I shove my notebook back in my bag and take my laptop out instead, Mr. Disapproval shakes his head slowly, I sigh, he looks like those dogs some people have at the back of their cars, head constantly moving at anything. An hostess passes by and stops to remind me internet connexions aren’t allowed for the smooth progress of the flight, I nod and explain I only want to watch a movie and she leaves, a fake yet professional smile on her face. I put my headphones on when I feel a hand on my shoulder, oh God, can’t I just do one thing without being bothered in the process, I turn to see the hand’s owner and see blue eyed boy looking at me.

“Oui?” I ask and he smiles softly before speaking, turns out he only wanted to know what I was about to watch, I hand him one of the earbuds and we watch Moulin Rouge together, I’ve seen it at least a dozen of times but it’s the only movie I have in my computer. I hum a few of the songs and hear a tut coming from my left, I ignore it and keep watching the movie quietly.


“Au fait, je m’appelle Ryan.” I tell blue-eyed-boy trying to act as casual as I can with a complete stranger, which is, on a scale from 0 to 10, approximatively at 4. After watching Moulin Rouge, we listened to a few albums I had in my computer, apparently it’s surprising that someone my age listen to Bob Dylan, but he’s a legend, everyone should listen to his music.

“Spencer.” blue-eyed-boy says back as we head out of the airport to take a cab to the Worldwide Institute of Litterature Studies. The ride to the Institute pass in a complete silence apart from the few moments where the driver asks us things about France, showing off his skills in our ‘beautiful language’ like he said. However, like most americans he only knows the basic words, but I don’t point it out to him since he seems proud of himself, everytime he says a word, so I let him be. We soon arrive in front of the biggest building I’ve ever seen, people don’t lie when they say America does everything bigger and better than us. Spencer seems excited to be here, unlike me, I shove my hands in my pockets trying to hide I’m shaking. We decide to go get our timetables and other informations at the school office, the woman behind the desk smiles at us, a warm smile, I have the feeling she’s going to lose this warmth after a few days spent working. Everyone is always happy on first days at school, even teachers, you think they’re the sweetest teachers you’ve ever had, but then a week or two pass and their moods change. Same goes for students, the very first day, nobody has acquaintances, so everyone is polite and nice, then time passes by a bit and you realize they’re far from being as nice as they seemed to be at first. Mrs. Thompson gives a pile of papers to each of us, welcoming us in the school and the country, speaking slowly as if we are too stupid to understand if she would speak properly. There aren’t much students in the corridors, we must be early, taking the daytime flight was maybe not as bad of an idea as I thought it was.

“On devrait monter voir où sont nos chambres.” Spencer says, our rooms, sure, we all have to sleep at school, not that us, non-americans have any sort of choices when it comes to this. I nod and we try to find the stairs for about ten minutes before realizing we were standing right besides them when we got out of the school office. Spencer’s room is the number 89, I drop him there and head for my own telling him which room I got, in case we wouldn’t find each other in the building once everyone has arrived. My room is on the other end of the corridor, room 108, the door is ajar, so I assume my roomate has already arrived. I push the door open and wow, the room is much spacious than I thought it would be, my entire apartment would fit in this room, well maybe not the entirety of it but the most. My roomate is sitting by his desk, back turned to me, he doesn’t notice me and I’m quite thankful for it, I’ve talked too much to strangers today, more than I did in the last month and the day is not even done yet. I drop my bag by the bed and look around taking in my new room, the room is perfectly symmetrical, a bed against the wall on the right of the door, same on the left, a nightstand next to each bed, a desk is facing the right wall, the other one facing the left wall, a closet on each side of the door. I jump when I hear someone clearing their throat, I turn around and see my roomate sitting by his desk, looking at me, his lips curved into a small yet warm smile. His hair is darker than mine, his chocolate brown eyes intensifies his gaze but don’t harden it either, his lips are plump and a light shade of pink, he has broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he’s stunning. He clears his throat again tearing me out of my thoughts, oh God, I was staring wasn’t I? Merde.

“I guess you are the french student I have to take care of.” he says standing up and holding his hand out to me, the student he has to what? “I’m Brendon.” he adds, his smile growing bigger.

“Ryan.” I tell him, shaking his hand, warm and soft skin against mine. “What do you mean by ‘take care of’?” I ask a bit confused.

“Oh, you didn’t read the papers we gave you yet?” I shake my head slowly. “Each room is attributed to an american student and a french student, like this it makes it easier to mix people, and each american student has to keep an eye on their french roomate. The documentation is clearer than me don’t worry, you’ll understand more after you’ll read all of these.” I nod slowly glancing at the papers I put down on my desk a few seconds prior, I sit down and starts to read, I don’t want to feel out of it any longer. “You don’t talk much huh?” I hear Brendon say behind me, “I promise, I won’t bite you, not too hard.” he adds with a wink when I turn around to look at him, I turn my attention back to my papers, feeling my cheeks slightly heating up. The documentation is not much clearer than Brendon and it bothers me, from what I understood, Brendon is supposed to show the school, we’ll always have to work together on the homeworks we’ll be assigned, we basically need to be glued to each other. I’m supposed to be glued to this hottie, je suis dans une merde noire.

“So, please tell me we can leave this room now.” I glance behind me and see Brendon standing arms crossed, still smiling, doesn’t it hurt to smile all the time? But it’s the first day so of course he’s being nice and charming, too charming.

“Sure, where would you like to go?” I ask him, trying my best not to sound as nervous as I am inside ever since I woke up this morning. We’re out of the room, walking down the stairs and I still don’t have an answer, he gives high fives to a few students in the corridors, doing that little nod thing, cool guys do. After what seems like an eternity we stop by a room filled with half of the students, some are playing table football, some are sprawled on the couch, a few others are standing in a corner talking and laughing.

“This is what we call the rest room, you come here to chill between classes or when you have a free period. It’s pretty much the only room you need to know for the moment, you have time to see class rooms on Monday when classes start.” Brendon explains as we start walking toward the guys talking in the corner of the room, I notice Spencer is with them, talking animatedly to the dark haired guy I’ve seen when I dropped him by his room earlier. At least one of us is at ease when it comes to talk to complete strangers.

“Guys, this is my roomate Ryan the quiet,” I glance at Brendon not really pleased by the little nickname he found me already, but it’s not a lie so I can’t complain. “Ryan, here’s my crew, Gabe, Josh and Jon, and of course their own roomates.” I wave awkwardly at the guys and they all smile at me, Spencer smiling wider than all the other reunited.

“So, what do you think of our beautiful country so far?” Gabe, I think, asks me.

“Well, I’ve seen the airport, a cab and a part of the Institute, so far.”

“Right,” he chuckles and adds, “and people, we are known to be welcoming and charming.”

“Besides people thinking they know how to speak french and those talking at a slow pace to make sure the little french student understands everything, people are nice.”

“So it’s true what they say.”

“What?” I raise an eyebrow.

“That frenchies are grumpy.” Gabe laughs, Josh, Jon and Brendon joining him.

“Not all of us!” Spencer retorts, “but we are grumpy when we’re suffering from jetlag and lack of sleep.”

“Once I went in Germany with my family for my grandma’s birthday and I have to admit jetlag is not the most pleasurable thing ever.” Josh says, nodding while he speaks, reminding me of Mr. Disapproval from the flight. After that, they all start talking about traveling, and I soon feel out of place, the only time I’ve been in a plane was today, and the only time I left France was also today. Gabe’s roomate talks just as much as the others but he doesn’t seem much at ease, at least he tries to fit in unlike me, I just stand there, nodding here and there to show I’m listening and I pray not to be asked about anything involving traveling. It’s 11pm when we finally go back into our room, Brendon claimed to be first to shower so I let him go and decide to lay on my bed, it’s quite comfortable but it’s not home and the sheets have a weird smell. After awhile, I unpack my belongings, which is not much, mostly clothes, a laptop, a picture of me and my mom and my notebook. On the other hand, Brendon has a lot of belongings, posters on the wall, a guitar, a little TV, a laptop, a bunch of books, well he didn’t have to pay to bring those things unlike me and I still had to pay a supplement of 80 euros because my laptop made my bag too heavy. Brendon gets out of the bathroom half an hour later, towel wrapped low on his hips, pale skin shinning where he didn’t dry himself correctly.

“Shower’s all yours.” he tells me gesturing toward the door still opened behind him, I nod and get in the bathroom faster than I meant to. Once I locked the door, I lean against it sighing, couldn’t they make someone else my roomate or chaperon or whatever it is instead? God, of course I had to be the one getting the hottest guy of the Institute as a roomate. Frenchies are grumpy I hear Gabe say in my head, no I’m not grumpy, I push my thoughts away and get in the shower. So what Brendon is absolutely gorgeous, it’s not the first time I meet someone gorgeous, I can manage, I know I can, well it’s not like I have any choices anyway but it’s better to do it with confidence right? Oh God and here we go again, I’m rambling as always. Shut up Ryan.


I wake up the next morning hearing Brendon playing the guitar, I open an eye and see him sitting cross-legged on the bed, writing down every few moments. I look at him silently, his lower lip tucked between his teeth a slight frown on his face, he strums another chord and sigh, rubbing his forehead with his palm. I glance at the clock: 2:35am, I should be the one awake, it’s 8am at home, Brendon should be sleeping peacefully by now, I turn around to face the wall, closing my eyes again waiting for sleep to hit me again. The last thing I hear is Brendon sighing before I doze off.

When I wake up again, a few hours later, Brendon is nowhere to be seen, as I turn to see what time it is, I see a post-it on my nightstand. “Stuff to do, be back for breakfast don’t worry.” I sigh and get up. I take a shower and walk around in my boxers for a while, I could do that all the time at home but now I have a roomate, I could still do it but it would be weird. Someone knocks on the door, tearing me out of my thoughts, I put some clothes on and open the door to see Spencer, hair sticking out a bit everywhere on his head.

“Pourquoi on est obligés de se lever si tôt hein?” he tells me voice raspy from sleep. A student passes by and reminds us that no french is allowed, we look at each other then nod slowly.

“Come in.” I tell him, closing the door right after he entered the room.

“So, huh.” he frowns not knowing what to say or how to say it, it’s too fucking early in the morning to speak english.

“Do you know où, uhm, where, we’re supposed to have our breakfast?” does it makes any sense? Well, Spencer’s worse than me in English so it doesn’t matter.

“Uhm, cafeteria? Probably, maybe, surely, uhm.” I sit on my bed and sigh, for a change, he sighs too almost right after and we sit in silence until Brendon chimes in, beaming and full of energy, I can see in Spencer’s gaze that he wonders how the hell Brendon does that, and I wonder too.

“Come on guys, allons-y? That’s how you say it right?” Brendon tells us cheerfully. We nod and follow him to the cafeteria, Spencer was right, we sit down at the table with Brendon’s team and their roomates. I stay silent for most of the time, bon sang it’s 8am, and we’re Sunday, we’re supposed to stay in bed until noon then directly lunch and chilling all the afternoon. I think Jon said, somewhere in the middle of a conversation, that we’re supposed to help the school’s staff for printing and classifying all the papers they will give us tomorrow. We’re maybe 500 students, there are usually around 10 annoying papers on the first day, I’m not good in maths but this is a whole lot of papers to take care of. Merde.

Turns out it’s a bit less tiring than I thought, time passes by pretty fast, Spencer’s cracking a joke in french every ten minutes and all the americans students just stare at us, not understanding a single thing we’re saying. Brendon pulls on a show every time he moves a box, I would like it if he would stop doing it, showing off his ass in his tight jeans, I wonder how he manages to put them on. Why did no one tell me it would be this hard for a gay guy to be here?

“L’hippocampe mais on ne sait jamais dans quel camping.” Spencer says and we all start to laugh even if his joke wasn’t that funny. Gabe stares at Spencer a while then go back to what he was doing. Spencer bends towards me and says “Une femme dit à son mari qui rentre du bar: J’espère que tu as bu avec modération et le mari, bourré, répond: Non, il est pas venu.” I try my best not to laugh, I bet Spencer has one of those books full of jokes somewhere at home or here in his belongings.

“So,” Brendon says, “how’s Paris?”

“Great.” Alex, Josh’s roomate, replies.

“Why do you assume we’re from Paris?” I ask.

“Well, you’re french.”

“What exactly do you think there is outside Paris? A giant desert?”

“Provincials are touchy.” Alex says and I glare at him.

“We’re actually from center east, right next to Switzerland.” Spencer adds.

“Don’t be so butt hurt the Quiet.”

“Va te faire foutre!”

“Wow stop, don’t fight for this, dudes you’re roomates, you have to get along.” Spencer tries to calm me down. Thanks for taking a side Spencer, I appreciate. I leave the copy room and goes directly in my room, fuck them all. Well, okay, maybe I overreacted.. not maybe, I did overreact but I’m tired and at thousands of miles away from home so I’m touchy, but not because I’m a provincial, fucking Alex, he’s so rich I bet he shits gold. It’s not until hours after that Brendon shows up in our room, I expect him to do his own thing but instead, he leans against the door, arms crossed against his chest. I try to avoid his gaze, staring at the book I no longer read instead.

“What’s your problem the quiet?” he asks no longer cheerful.

“I don’t have any problem, I’m tired and homesick already and it makes me touchy, that’s it.”

“Homesick? You’ve been here for less than a day.” he scoffs.

Je t’emmerde.” I wince at my use of french, it’s almost an instinct, it’s funny how you always come to your first language in moments where you’re nervous or angry, well not much funny, more embarrassing when you suddenly speaks another language.

“It’s not because you say it in french that I don’t understand, we’re all studying each others language here so don’t bullshit me.”

“It came out that way, and if you understand it shouldn’t bother you this much then.” I retort a bit too coldly.

“Okay listen, you don’t like me, that’s fine, really but we have to spend at least a year together so if you could manage to be bearable it would be much appreciated.”

“Me? Managing to be bearable? I’m not the one playing the guitar at two in the morning when normal people want to sleep!” Go on, spill it Ross, nice move.

“Wait, how do you know that?”

“We’re in the same room what did you expect?”

“I didn’t hear you.” he says, his eyes narrowing.

“Excuse me but when I wake up I usually don’t feel the need to announce I’m awake.”

“No need to announce anything, pretending not to be awake is a whole different thing!” he snaps.

“I didn’t pretend anything, I woke up, I saw you, I turned around and fell back asleep, that’s it. Enfin merde Brendon c’est bon.” I snap back.

“Stop fucking speaking in french!”

“Sorry.” I say way more quietly than I planned to.

“I’ll hang out with the guys,” he doesn’t even look at me before walking to the door, “see you tonight, crapaud.” he mutters before leaving the room. Toad? Did he just call me a toad? What the hell is this insult or whatever it was meant to be? Anyway, second day in here and I already managed to make an enemy out of my roomate, good job Ross.


Author’s note: This is my first time writing a Ryden fanfic and I’m excited and nervous about posting it. I hope you’ll like it. The reason why I started writing this is because agetwellcard wanted a fic where Ryan is french. I am, myself, french so I decided to write it, I hope I won’t disappoint you. My beautiful and amazing friend Hope (spencest) did the beta-ing and I thank them for it.

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