Brendon wasn't himself lately, but then again with the double break up, that was really to be expected, but it just wasn't that - Brendon hadn't been himself in a long time now.

His life had become a sit at home and lock himself in his room for hours kind of ordeal, and really, nobody had even noticed enough to care, and perhaps that was okay, and perhaps it wasn't: he couldn't tell the difference between reality and the opinions of his sick, twisted, arrogant head anymore.

But he wasn't depressed: he didn't spend every second of his life with the barrel of a gun pressed up against his temples, he didn't spend each night with a blade pressed against his wrists, and he didn't go through his days in a pit of self loathing with no hope of escape.

This was something else entirely.

And this was something that had started several months ago now, this had started when his sister, Kara, came home for the first time in years, and his mum hadn't even said a word - it had been a glare and then drink it away kind of affair, and Brendon could barely even make eye contact with his older sister before his mum was out the door and on the way to her boyfriend's house, like a fucking thirteen year old.

And then, Brendon had to tell her, because his mother hadn't- his mother never fucking bothered, and Brendon couldn't believe it at all, and his heart almost seized up in his chest when his twenty four year old sister asked him where dad was, and Brendon had to tell her that he shot himself two years ago.

Kara drank all the alcohol in the house that night, and had passed out on the sofa around midnight, leaving Brendon to stay up all until his mum got home at four in the morning to let her, and her boyfriend in.

Her boyfriend was an asshole - a fucking asshole who clearly wanted nothing but money and a fuck, and yet, somehow, his mum had drunk enough alcohol to manage to convince herself that she loved this man. At least the guy didn't technically live with them, but he definitely spent a great deal of his time at the Urie household, and Brendon couldn't help but wonder if the guy actually had a home of his own, or if he just wasted away the time when his mum was at work by sitting in McDonalds or something.

Brendon knew barely anything about the guy, but there was one thing that he knew for certain, and that was that he absolutely fucked hated both him and Kara.

Kara had come home after her boyfriend had turned into an abusive asshole and ruined her life and took her house, and now she had nowhere left to go except home, even if home had been made a hellhole in the past few years she'd missed.

She was nice enough, though, even if her and Brendon had never been best buds, she was someone there on those nights that his mum never came back.

And as Brendon sat in his bedroom alone again, he came to remember how he'd never ever told anyone about this mess, because he wasn't the sharing type: he was the cold asshole that kept this all up inside, and he was the cold asshole that would kill himself doing so.

Ryan thought he knew everything about Brendon, but in reality, he knew nothing.

-

Sarah was just a little uncomfortable when it came to showing up at Brendon Urie's house at five in the afternoon on a Monday, but she promised that she'd do this for Ryan, and the guy was definitely not okay, and Sarah was determined to prove that she wasn't some sort of bitch that had dragged Ryan's boyfriend away from him, even if it ensured that she ran the risk of actually meeting the people who had brought someone as cold and fucking cruel as Brendon Urie into the world.

"Hello?" Sarah jumped a little as the door opened to reveal a woman, most likely in her early twenties or late teens, and really, Sarah was just hoping that this was some freakishly young mother rather than his latest girlfriend. "Uhh... can I help you?"

"Oh.. yeah... sorry... I... can I speak to Brendon?" Sarah asked, blushing a little and just praying that this girl wasn't his girlfriend, and that she wasn't going to get slapped in the face for even wanting to speak to him.

"Yeah, okay, I guess, if he wants to. Who are you?" She seemed a little wary, raising her eyebrows at Sarah like she innately just didn't trust her.

"I'm Sarah, I- I'm his friend- are you like his jealous girlfriend or something, because you're actually really fucking-" Sarah's words were soon cut off by a fit of laughter.

"His girlfriend? God, no!" She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "I'm Kara, his sister, look, sorry, I haven't exactly had the best of days, just come in, yeah?"

"Brendon never said he had a sister." Sarah noted as she followed Kara inside, leaving the twenty four year old to only shrug her shoulders in response.

"He doesn't tell people a lot."

"Yeah, I gathered." Sarah rolled her eyes, trying her best not to think of the months that they dated without knowledge of his boyfriend.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kara raised her eyebrows at that.

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay... that's his room... I'll leave you to it, please don't fuck, because I'm staying in, okay?" And Sarah could only blush a horrible shade of red, having no time to utter a response before Kara had already made her way back downstairs.

And now, all she had left to do, was actually fucking talk to him, which was really the hardest part here, because every rational part of her head was telling her to turn back now, and fucking run, because there wasn't a chance in hell that she could ever even consider trusting Brendon Urie, but she'd promised Ryan Ross, and a promise was a fucking promise.

-

"Brendon?" The seventeen year old almost jumped off the bed as his bedroom door was pushed open by none other than fucking Sarah Orzechowski, and that was a mini heart attack to say the least.

"Sarah? I..." And there wasn't a single word that came to his head in that moment, and he resorted to simply staring at her as she closed the door behind her and made her way over to the bed, sitting down beside her ex-boyfriend like this was normal and that she didn't want to slap him right across the face right now, but really, Ryan had already slapped him enough to last a lifetime at Patrick's party.

"Your sister let me in. She's nice, didn't know you had a sister." Sarah knew it was the most awkward conversation starter ever, but really there was no easy way to go about this, and at least, unlike Brendon, she was actually trying.

"Yeah, she moved out a few years ago but then came back a few months ago. I didn't really tell anyone, I guess, I mean, it's not that important, but yeah, I have a sister - she's alright." Brendon shrugged it off, just praying that Sarah would shut up about his family, and also leave before his mum and her boyfriend got home, because that would most certainly be an awkward situation.

"You're not alright, though are you?" Sarah met a rather shocked gaze, on Brendon's part, but really, it didn't exactly take Einstein to figure it out.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brendon retorted with entirely too much anger for the situation, because he was really nothing more than defensive little fuckboy.

"That's supposed to mean that you got dumped twice, although, admittedly, you did deserve it, but still, you're sat alone in your room feeling sorry for yourself." Sarah noted, eyebrows raised a little as she stared Brendon down: insistent upon releasing some sort of truth from his lips, and at this point more for the benefit of her own ego than anything at all relating to Ryan Ross.

"What do you even want me to say?" Brendon sighed out, shrugging a little to show Sarah just how fucking done he was with her shit, Brendone with her shit. "Why are you even here? You don't care about me, surely."

She let out a disappointed sigh, as having to explain this shit to her favourite fuckboy wasn't exactly high on her top ten things she wanted to do today, but with a few reluctant seconds, she finally admitted the truth. "Ryan asked me to come."

"You're talking to my ex-boyfriend now?" Brendon asked, eyebrows raised just a little in expression of the fact that he really wasn't expecting that.

"Yeah, we have something in common - we both hate you." And Sarah smiled that kind of fucking Sarah smile that Sarah smiles when she doesn't fuckboys to know if she's kidding or not.

"Well, I'm glad to know you're getting along." Brendon rolled his eyes, mustering up all the willpower not to get butthurt. "Are you going to steal all of my friends from me or just the ones I like most?"

"Stop being such a bitter cunt for maybe five minutes, huh, how about that?" Sarah lost it, grabbing Brendon's attention with that statement. "Sorry, I... Ryan, he doesn't hate you, I don't hate you... you've just been an asshole and Ryan really loved you so he's really upset, and he was too scared to come here himself, but he wanted me to find out what was up with you, because he knows that this isn't you, and that this isn't just you being an asshole - there's something more."

Brendon shook his head firmly at even the suggestion of such a statement, because really, with a subject such as this, he couldn't help but be defensive, because this was something he never wanted to explain again.

"Okay, so I'll tell Ryan that he's wrong, and you are actually just a dickhead who hates him-" And Brendon didn't even let Sarah finish that sentence.

"No, please don't do that." He sighed out, shaking his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. "It's personal... Ryan kind of knows like one thing, but there's many other things, and this one thing was years ago, but then it all kicked off again recently."

"Is this to do with Pete's death? Because I know that you were the least affected by his death, so I'm not going to let you use this as an excuse - this is someone's life, Brendon, and in comparison to Patrick, it didn't affect you at all!" Sarah raised her voice again, and Brendon just took it, because he had nothing better to do, and he had no apology worthwhile offering. "Sorry." The apology, of course, soon following - Sarah was a nice person, for the most part.

"Pete and I didn't get along, but I still miss him, I guess, I mean, lots of people don't know how to deal with these things, for most people it's the worst thing that has ever happened in their lives, and then maybe in some cases their parents splitting up is second, and that happened when they were too young to even know what was happening, and- and in Patrick's case, the worst thing that has ever happened to him was when Pete dated Mikey instead of him. He doesn't know how to deal with shit - he has no coping methods, this is new to him, and it's understandable that it affected him a lot."

"And you? You have some big sob story I assume then?" Sarah let out a sigh, shaking her head, and moving closer to Brendon. "Look, come on, don't try and make it about people like that - it just matters about how close you were to the guy... people shooting themself is a difficult thing for anyone to handle, but people will eventually get over and move on-"

"No, they won't, not really, not ever." Brendon snapped out in response, getting dangerously close to just blurting the truth out at this point, and really, this fucking fine line he was walking was just about to completely crumble away.

"Brendon, just shut the fuck up, when it comes to how Patrick's reacting, you don't have a fucking clue-"

"I fucking do." And at that point, Brendon stood up, because he'd utterly lost it. "I fucking know what I'm talking about, Sarah, I fucking promise you. Don't even try- look- my dad shot himself when I was fifteen, I've been through this shit before, and it doesn't get better, but at least this time wasn't the first, so it wasn't as bad-"

"Brendon!" Sarah exclaimed, the room falling into silence for entirely too long.

"My mum's boyfriend isn't a nice guy. And my mum isn't really much of a mother anymore, it got worse because I had to start thinking about it again when my sister came home, because my mum had never fucking thought to tell her, and I had to tell her that her... our dad shot himself two years ago." Brendon exhaled entirely too loudly, for a moment, making a far too big deal out of avoiding Sarah's gaze. "Ryan is the only person that knows any of this and he only knows that my dad's dead. Nothing else."

"Do you want me to tell him the rest?" Sarah finally piped up after an extended pause.

"No."

"What am I supposed to tell him then?" Sarah retorted, eyes widening as she finally manage to make eye contact with Brendon, who had sat back down at this point.

"Tell him that there's something about my dad again and it's fucking me up - tell him like you don't know what I'm really talking about so he doesn't get pissed off about the fact that I told you- because, fuck, I didn't mean to tell you- fuck, you tricked me into tell you." Brendon glared at her for a good few seconds after that, but soon lost motivation. "Don't tell him, please. I want to try to fix this with him."

"He wants to fix it with you as well, but in a friendship kind of way." Sarah sighed out, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I don’t' think he could ever trust you enough to date you again."

"And, of course, I have no way to fix that." Brendon sighed out, turning away and biting down on his bottom lip.

"I'll ask, but it's unlikely."

"I know."

"Brendon-"

"What?" He snapped in response, almost glaring at Sarah for even speaking up, and just like that, everything faded away.

"Doesn't matter."

Silence.

"Okay." And yet more silence. "You should go before my mum gets home."

"Okay." And as she did, the longest lasting silence of them all.

-

It took far much more than Brendon had initially anticipated to convince himself that he specifically wasn't leaving his shitty little bedroom and his shitty little house for the hope of running into Ryan Ross alone.

He had hopes of running into Sarah, as well, of course.

But Ryan mattering this much was another thing that Brendon hadn't initially anticipated, and was now stuck with: regardless of whether he liked it or not, but whatever, maybe he deserved this, and maybe, even when he was brought back down to reality, he still did need the fresh air, and at the very least, his own head was really beginning to drive him crazy.

Perhaps it was the churning sensation in his gut that hadn't left his body since Sarah had spoken to him yesterday, and since he'd told her everything and without even meaning to. Sarah Orzechowski was definitely something - there was no doubt about that, but still, Brendon couldn't settle the sinking feeling in his stomach as he pictured Ryan's reaction: a million times over and each time different.

And still he hadn't decided if he preferred the safety of nonchalance to the volatile nature of an over exaggerated reaction - either good or bad: Brendon just needed something other than silence and empty walls and the spinning thoughts inside his head.

When he left the house, he didn't particularly have all that much of an intention or destination in his journey - it was just walking, and it was just nothingness, and he was following his feet like they were things he could trust and not the means to his end.

Brendon's head wasn't a particularly nice place right now, to say the least, but it would do - it wasn't going to kill him, or at least Brendon didn't think so, but then again, there were an awful lot of things that Brendon Urie didn't know, and he absolutely wasn't okay with a single one of them.

How could he be? He wasn't even okay with himself, despite how he seemed: it was all an intricate facade to conceal any sign of weakness or emotion and Brendon didn't even know why he was trying half the time - he just knew that he was and that it was nothing short of a vicious cycle.

And he knew that the path his feet were taking him on right now was definitely unfamiliar, but still, he didn't seem to mind - it wasn't far from home, after all: he'd be alright in the end, no matter what, and at the very least, he most certainly find Ryan Ross in some random forest near his house that he didn't even know existed.

In fact, Brendon very much doubted that he'd find anyone here, and perhaps that was simply the best part, because maybe he did just need to be alone, but maybe his head needed to breathe, and with four walls always closing in on him, such a task was nothing but impossible.

But as the sound of two voices hit his eardrums, and almost like a sack of bricks, it became more than painfully evident that Brendon was really not alone.

Up the path ahead were two guys perhaps the same age as Brendon, or even just a little older, but not by much, not that it mattered - they were strangers, yet far too familiar, and as Brendon's gaze studied the dark hair and pale faces for entirely far too long, he finally came to conclude that the two strangers were not strangers at all: Gee Way and Dallon Weekes.

They were the kind of people that Brendon knew all too much about without even ever speaking to, and really, that was just what friendship does to people, and he still hadn't quite decided whether that was good or bad yet.

They noticed him: it was only a matter of eventuality, of course, after all, Brendon had resorted to standing like a deer in the headlights right in the middle of the path, just staring at the two of them, and really he couldn't have been more obvious if he was screaming at them that he was staring at them and assessing their value and worth as people.

Dallon was the first to notice: looking up from a few metres away, and muttering something to Gee, before quickening his pace, leaving the older of the two to follow behind him.

"Brendon?" Dallon addressed him as Gee made his way to Dallon's side: the younger all bright eyes and smiles, and Brendon didn't believe it for one fucking minute. "I was at Patrick's party- I-"

"I know who you are." Brendon finished for him, turning to Gee, and only nodding in his direction. "I know who you are too: I know Frank Iero, of course I do." And Gee couldn't help but blush a little at that. "God, you really fucked up there, didn't you?"

"Brendon-" Dallon interrupted, his eyes widening like he was almost genuinely astounded by the fact that Brendon Urie was gutsy enough to make such a sarcastic and mildly offensive remark. "You can't talk- you cheated, and- you were an asshole."

"I know." Brendon shrugged it off, pulling his gaze back to Gee. "Talk to Frank, for fuck's sake: you don't have to start boning him again, but just say hello - see if he's alright, because he's not and he's struggling without you, because he's a fucking idiot and he still loves you."

"He's fine." Gee insisted: it becoming more of a matter of ignorance than naivety at this point, and despite the twenty five year old's stubborn nature, it was undeniable, even to him.

"He's not." Dallon spoke up - not even sure as to why he was bothering, but he was, and perhaps he could only hope that Brendon would stop cutting him down with his words in appreciation of such a gesture. "I watched him puke his guts up into a sink at the party on Saturday-"

"What? Were you joining him, because you know what I told you- you know, I don't want you to do that." Gee insisted, shaking his head, and doing just about anything to divert the topic of conversation from Frank to Dallon: Dallon wasn't even important here - Gee would probably have rather discussed his mother's knitting techniques right then.

"You know I don't want you to drink, so shut the fuck up and stop being a hypocrite-" Dallon snapped back at him, momentarily forgetting that Brendon was even there, and blushing like hell as he met Brendon's gaze: raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes - he was slowly piecing this together.

"There's more to this than people think, isn't there?" Brendon directed that question at Dallon, and with a stern tone that ensured Dallon wasn't going to twist his words and throw them right back at him.

"No, not really. Everything's just a face value with relationships that are fucked up: the mess is always visible, you know that."

"No, not quite. There's so much more to Ryan, Sarah, and I, and I'm not just saying that in my defence - you can ask Sarah, but I seriously suggest you come to accept that perfect little Gee and Frankie didn't just casually fall out, because you love him, Gee, and now it's all hatred and lies and sleeping with everyone you know-"

"I've just slept with Dallon-"

"Sure, you have." Brendon wasn't wrong, and Bert McCracken was the living proof of that.

"There's more to this." Dallon finally came to admit, kicking at the dirt with the toe of his sneaker. "There is."

"I know." Brendon sighed out, passing them a smile, before turning back to make his way back home: too much air, too much socialising, and too much clarity - goddamn it, Brendon was even starting to think straight - that certainly hadn't helped last time.

"Ryan still loves you, but you fucked up big time." Dallon added as Brendon started to walk away, and for what purpose, he would never come to understand. "There's more to that, though: Patrick knows. Patrick knows everything."

"I know."

-

And it's Brendon's bedroom again: the same awkward, loathsome ordeal, but the creator of the situation was different this time, and really, Kara had begun to wonder just as to how Brendon had suddenly acquired all of these 'friends' who insisted upon visiting him in person on such a regular basis.

Specifically, the person stood awkwardly, having closed Brendon's bedroom door behind them this time was Dallon.

"There's more to it." He spoke aloud before Brendon could even began to mutter a sarcastic comment in relation to his presence: Brendon hardly knew Dallon, and therefore was just a little slow on the front of coming up with something snappy and personal that was ensure that Dallon was sitting uncomfortably for the remainder of their 'encounter'.

"I know." Brendon settled for the first response that came into his head, and Dallon didn't seem to mind: making his way over to sit beside Brendon on his bed before continuing their conversation, well, if you could really call this a conversation - that was questionable.

"Did you ask Patrick about Ryan?" Dallon asked, not knowing Brendon well enough to know that there wasn't a single chance in hell that he would have actually accomplished something with only twenty four hours to motivate himself in.

"No." He shook his head, neglecting any further explanation, as he found no need for it - it was only Dallon, after all.

"Okay." Dallon sighed out, not anticipating that Brendon wouldn't be actively trying everything to get Ryan back.

"I may be an asshole, but at least I'm not pathetic." And Brendon couldn't help but feel like he was trying more to convince himself of that fact, as opposed to simply conveying it to Dallon with that air of arrogance that he was well accustomed to hiding behind.

Dallon shrugged, raising his eyebrows a little: wanting to say more, but deciding against it, because this was Brendon, and it was nothing short of the worst idea he'd ever had. "Why did you decide to date Sarah?"

Brendon was just a little stumped at first: never having expected Dallon to grow the guts to be quite so direct, but it became rather apparent that Brendon was wrong, and god, Brendon didn't like being wrong. "Because she was cute and I liked her."

"There's more to it than that. We all think lots of people are cute, but there's a difference between thinking someone's cute and fucking them. Why did you act upon those feelings, Brendon?" And by now, Dallon was asking questions that Brendon wasn't even sure he actually knew the answers to.

"I don't know, I just... Ryan... Ryan didn't... nothing seemed to matter, it felt like that whatever I do, it's not going to matter and no one's going to care. Ryan was ignoring me and things were happening at home." And Brendon promised himself that he definitely wouldn't let every secret slip for the second time, especially to someone he barely knew: he was so close to Sarah that it was excusable, perhaps even acceptable, but it was unlikely.

"Gee's an alcoholic." Dallon didn't even quite know as to how the words had just sprung from his lips with such a lack of warning, but it was certainly far too late to regret it now. "He's fucking his life up and it's spiralling out of control, and without Frank, there's no one to stop him, because no matter what he seems to have tricked himself into thinking, I'm not Frank, and I never will be."

"Tell Frank about what he's doing?" Brendon suggested, raising one eyebrow as he listened with far too much interest than he would have preferred to have, but at the very least, the subject of conversation wasn't solely focused on his biggest mistakes and most spectacular fuckups: almost like a 'highlight' reel - one made by someone with a particularly sick and twisted sense of humour, though.

"Frank's fucked up as well, and I doubt he'd ever even consider listening to me. But Gee's going to end up killing himself like this, because Bert doesn't give a shit, and he's really not okay - there's nothing left of him: it's just alcohol and fucking everyone he can get his hands on, and he's fucking convinced that he hates Frank as well, and Frank hates me for spending so much time with him, but for the most part, I'm only trying to stop him killing himself here-"

"Fuck." And for the first time, Brendon actually cared more than a little about problems that didn't directly relate to either him or Ryan. "You can just- you need... tell someone."

"Who?"

"Tell Ryan: he always knows what to do and he always cares."

And with that, Dallon got up, smiling just a little. "You're not quite so much of an asshole as you make yourself out to be, you know?"

"I disagree." Brendon protested, being far too proud of his own arrogance.

"You can disagree all you like: I know how nice you can be, but don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Long live your asshole reputation, not that I'm all that sure as to why you'd ever want it in the first place."

"I like my own company."

"You can't live inside your own head forever, sure, you can love yourself, but you can't marry yourself: you can be your own best friend, but you'll always feel just as alone."

-

Gabe Saporta had almost seemed to disappear off the face of the earth for the past few months, having been Pete Wentz's boyfriend for about the space of five minutes, and now, now he was just that guy: mildly popular, yet largely unimportant, but, of course, there was always more to things like that.

Gabe hadn't been nearly as affected by Pete's death as Patrick had been, but he most certainly cared: Pete was a nice guy and he didn't deserve that, but there was very little Gabe could do - hell, he was either hated or a stranger to Pete's friends, and he was just that guy who put flowers on Pete's grave every few weeks, and still no one knew who he really was.

Patrick spent a lot of time at Pete's grave, but the two had never exchanged a word, and Gabe later learned that it was down to the fact that Patrick hadn't spoke for quite a while after Pete's death, but still, Gabe didn't know Patrick, not really, and the same went for all of the other visitors to Pete's grave.

Which was exactly what had him quite so surprised when someone actually addressed him by his name.

Gabe wasn't planning to stay for long: just enough time to leave flowers, and think about Pete for a minute or two: this was his apology, because he'd fucked up with Pete - things hadn't gone as they should have, and now it was too late, and Gabe was on a mission to prove that he cared, even if no one was watching.

"You're Gabe right?" 

In fact, the teenager jumped at the sound of his name, spinning on his heels to see another boy: brown hair, brown eyes - familiar yet someone he'd never seen before, at least not here.

Gabe nodded in response: speechless as he struggled to put a name to the face before him.

"I'm Brendon." The boy added, stepping forward to stand beside Gabe: the two facing Pete's grave in nothing more than silence for a good few minutes.

"You don't usually come here." Gabe highlighted the obvious, and as nothing more than a mere conversation starter.

"And you do?" Brendon couldn't help but say that such knowledge surprised him, but Gabe nodded in confirmation. "I swear you dated for two weeks at most."

"It was complicated, and fucked up, and messy, and everything I shouldn't have wanted, but did, and it didn't end how I wanted to, and there was never a chance for an apology, and now I put flowers on his grave all too often, and think about him more than I should, but I'm not sad, because I'm not allowed to be sad. I didn't know him enough to be sad. Hell, none of his friends know me or like me - I'm just that guy he dated once, but really, there's a lot that happened between us that no one knows, and really - it mattered, we mattered: I loved him, even if I was terrible at showing it, and even worse at admitting it, and seemingly terrible at getting over it."

"It's okay - we all fuck up." Brendon somehow found himself smiling, and god, this was fucked up, and if Pete Wentz was looking down on him right now, he'd probably be laughing. "We're human after all."

"But what if I'm secretly part lizard?" Gabe asked, grinning a little.

"Then, I'd be a little freaked out to say the least." Brendon admitted: unsure as to how the hell he was supposed to react.

"But would you keep my lizard secret?"

Brendon raised his eyebrows momentarily. "Sure."

 -

Being friends with Gabe Saporta was certainly a new thing for Brendon. In fact, being friends with anyone other than Ryan Ross was nothing more than downright alien to him, and hell, now he wasn't even friends with Ryan anymore.

School was different: having someone to sit with and a whole new world of other people - Gabe's friends, and Brendon was fucking shell-shocked to see that the majority of them weren't just enormous douchebags, and there was just something about the stares and glares from the people he once knew as friends, but now loathed him that made it all worthwhile.

But the fact was that Brendon wasn’t just doing this to get back at Ryan, or anyone, Brendon was friends with Gabe because he wanted to be: the guy made stupid ass lizard jokes and had a far bigger heart than anyone would ever expect, and that had most certainly taken Brendon by surprise.

But still, that wasn't to say that the glares and stares and attention weren’t doing wonders for Brendon's ego.

That didn't matter right now, though, and it never should have done in the first place, because Brendon was done with Gabe's friends and small talk and extended smiles, because that was nothing compared to just sitting behind the art block with Gabe, who was more than happy to just watch Brendon smoke like it meant nothing, but still everything: Brendon was everything, and the cigarette in his hand - temporarily, and in the scheme of things, worth absolutely nothing at all.

Surely that was a flawed perspective: only finding value in permanent things, because nothing lasts forever, and this moment of genuine smiles and cigarette smoke and the best friendship Brendon had felt in far too long, this was all temporary, but there wasn't a single doubt in either Gabe or Brendon's heads that it didn't matter.

"Do you smoke a lot?" Gabe asked: the first real question, the first 'important' subject of conversation - everything before had been stupid jokes and Gabe laughing at Brendon's fucking stupid emo turd fringe.

"I guess." Brendon shrugged it off, blushing a little as he did so: Gabe wasn't the type to lecture him on this shit, but still, he felt awkward around the subject, much as he felt awkward when it came to even admitting to himself that he was addicted, because really, this wasn’t casual - nicotine was clarity, and it was important, and it certainly didn't last forever.

But then again, things are what you make of them, and this question and this answer could be everything or could mean absolutely nothing at all, and it was all up to the way the chemicals reacted in Brendon's head.

"Ryan didn't like that I smoked - he didn't like the fact that it could kill me, but I think he just didn't like admitting to himself that we're all going to die someday, no matter how hard we try to prevent it."

"Yeah, we've got to make the most of what we've got." Gabe smiled at him, shuffling closer to Brendon in a totally homosexual manner, and thankfully there was no one around ensuring that a 'no homo' had to follow his every action: Brendon was different, of course, being Brendon. "Smoke all you like."

"Mhmm..." Brendon nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette: almost like a toast to Gabe's words. "When you were a kid did you ever imagine yourself as a teenager, and didn't you just think that it'd be the best thing ever, like you'd think you'd have like four trillion friends and go to parties every night and you'd be so damn happy and it'd be like all the movies and all the clichés, but it's not like that, and I don't even feel disappointed, I just feel stupid."

Gabe nodded, shrugging a little a few seconds later. "They're movies, man, they're not supposed to be real: if high school is supposed to be fun, then where the fuck is Batman, huh? But your life doesn't have to be the sob story cliché that you're telling to people in bars aged twenty five with no hopes and no job - fucking smile, Urie, make the most of it. Tell me, I want to grant you a wish, I want to make you happy, and we'll do the same for me, and today will be a good day and you'll stop caring so much about those people that hate you."

"Is it really that obvious?" Brendon exclaimed, shaking his head, and in consequence, tapping cigarette ash onto his knee, and jumping a little, before brushing it off.

"You keep staring, so yeah." Gabe shook his head, raising his eyes at Brendon's puzzled expression. "Anyway, make a wish, Urie?"

"And what are you? My fairy godmother?" Brendon retorted, snorting a little, and really, he preferred it when Gabe was making fun of his sneakers and how he tied his laces 'wrong'.

"Yes, Cinderella, you will go to the ball!" Gabe exclaimed, waving his finger at Brendon like it was a magic wand or something.

"I'd rather not." Brendon raised his eyebrows a little, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I don't know what I want, honestly. I thought all I wanted was Ryan back, but it seems silly that my whole life should revolve around one person who just hates me. Tell me what I want, fairy godmother."

"That's not how it fucking works, asshole." Gabe shook his head like Brendon was an utter idiot. "Do you know that tunnel on that road across town? People say you can sit on the curb and the cars rush by so fast that you're almost blown away. That sounds cool as hell-"

"Sounds like a death wish." Brendon blinked at Gabe like he couldn't quite believe just what he was saying.

"Could say the same about the cigarettes, but I'm not going to. Come on, Urie, where are your balls?" Gabe grinned at him, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder.

"I don't know, Ryan probably cut them off and has them locked away in a cupboard somewhere."

"Actually, I can think of what you're wishing for."

"Is that so?" Brendon raised his eyebrows at that: skeptic as ever.

"You just want to get over Ryan - that's clear." Brendon nodded, because, of course, Gabe was right. "I can help you - I am your magic fairy godmother after all."

"I thought you were half lizard?"

"Fairy godmothers can be half lizard - don't be a judgemental bitch." Gabe grinned, getting up as Brendon finished his cigarette. "Come on, Urie."

"What?" Brendon asked, grinning in confusion, but smiling nonetheless, because Gabe was the first person to make him smile in far too long, and now it seemed that Brendon was making up for a life of bittersweet in the smiles of right now.

"I'm going to grant some wishes: you can get over Ryan and I'm going to nearly die in a tunnel across town, because I can."

"And how the hell do you expect that I'm going to just get over him? It's not instant. You can't really do magic." Brendon narrowed his eyes at Gabe, almost like he was expecting him to just pull a magic wand out of his butt or something.

"It'll take time, Bren, everything does, but we can start right now."

"How?"

And the answer to Brendon's question didn't come in the form of words, but in a kiss against his lips, and at first, Brendon was panicking, but then he thought 'fuck it', and kissed Gabe the hell back, because this matter and he wanted it to.

But, of course, the two were far too caught up in one another to notice the figure watching them from afar: Patrick, but this didn't matter - it wasn’t even like Patrick Stump needed to see them kiss to know it'd happened: he'd be able to read the signs for days later, and in the matter of keeping secrets from Ryan, Brendon had no hope.

No hope whatsoever.

-

hey guys:) lmao you wanna guess who my favourite character in this fic is lmao he's trash but idc i really like writing brendon so fuck it i've written brendon urie's lifestory this chapter fucking deal with it!! i love you rly i'm sorry<3 also votes and comments would be rad bc ur rad people<3