Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco
Life in Technicolour
7 ReviewsIn a black and white world, Brendon is shunned all his life for being coloured. Until one night, when he meets a strange boy...
So... still not sure what this is exactly. Sorry if the story's shit; I just love the concept.
Holidays, whooo! XD
Brendon has always been an oddity.
Ever since he was born he’s had to face judgment and ridicule, just for a simple thing that he cannot help. And no, it wasn’t the fact that he needed glasses or because of his short stature, no, it was much more than that. You see, Brendon is coloured. And in a world where everything is black and white, that’s not such a good thing.
***
It started off with a smile. Brendon was a happy baby, more so than others. He constantly smiled, staring out at the world with his big and innocent eyes, seemingly intrigued about everything.
From there, it moved to his hair. It was black at first, but it began to develop a brownish tinge in his years of being a toddler. Even now it sometimes still looks black from a distance, but when you get up close, you can tell that it’s a dark brown.
Then his eyes started to change. Slowly, like his hair, brown swirls began to appear, mixing in and flashing whenever he laughed or grinned. People began to murmur about this abnormal change, whispering behind their hands about how it wasn’t right. Brendon’s parents tried to keep him locked inside the house, away from the prying eyes of the unforgiving world, but alas, there is a time when the need to attend school arises. Unfortunately for Brendon, by that stage, his skin was already starting to rid itself of the white-grey hue and take on a pale, creamy appearance. By now, everyone was used to the Urie’s strange son, blaming his looks on a genetic malfunction, but that didn’t mean they were pleased or happy about it.
In a world where rules were strict and followed to the letter, and everyone and everything were perfect, Brendon was shunned.
***
Then, when Brendon was 10, his transformation took on a whole new level.
He woke up as per usual in his black and white room, the sun sending warm waves of grey in through the window. Rising to get ready for school, Brendon headed to his dark grey closet, pulling it open and rifling through his clothes, every one a dull shade of grey, white or black. Finding a pair of jeans and a light-ish t shirt, he pulled them on, tying up the laces on a battered pair of converse. It wasn’t until he entered the kitchen that he became aware that something had happened.
Turning around as she heard footsteps, Mrs. Urie screamed upon seeing her son. This scream brought her husband running, who in turn, let out a strangled yell, his face turning a dark grey.
“Go and change your clothes! Now!” he yelled at Brendon while trying to comfort his hysterical wife. Confused, Brendon went and did as he was told, stopping and staring open mouthed at his reflection in the mirror inside his closet when he walked into his room.
Brendon’s clothes were no longer part of the world of black and white.
Instead of wearing almost-black jeans, he was now wearing dark blue jeans. His light-grey top had turned a bright blue, and his shoes were dark red. Brendon’s eyes widened in amazement as he pivoted back and forth on his heels, gazing at himself from all angles in the mirror. He could barely contain the small giggle that bubbled up inside him and escaped his mouth. Then, with a sinking feeling, he remembered his father’s words.
Pulling his newly-changed t-shirt over his head, his posture slumped. Brendon half expected the shirt to lose its colour once it lost contact with him, but to his surprise it retained it. Turning to a different shirt, a darker one, he touched the fabric, giving a little cry when a red colour began to sprout and run through the material like water, travelling all over the shirt from the place where Brendon had touched. Gasping in astonishment, the boy touched his hand to another t-shirt. This one turned green. The next one was yellow, the one after that was purple and the one after that was a dark green. Brendon kept touching his clothes until all of them contained colour. He stood there in front of his closet dumbly, transfixed by the rainbow before him.
There was another scream and Brendon spun in shock to see his mother standing in the doorway of his room, trembling. His father was hot on her heels, his face palpitated by rage. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. He had it all – the perfect wife, perfect house, perfect job; he was just fine with living in a black and white world, thank you very much. Now, his son had come along and everything had started to change.
Much to Brendon’s father’s disgust, Brendon’s clothes didn’t fade over the next few minutes or hours like he hoped they would. Nor over the next few days or week. And neither did the colour leech from them in the wash, or over the next month.
And so it seemed that Brendon had begun to bring colour into the world.
***
Everyone at school hated him. Brendon thought that the common opinion that school was hell was an understatement for everybody except him. He stood out like a sore thumb with his bright clothes. At first, he loved it. He relished in the fact that he was different from everyone else; that he was being noticed for once. Brendon loved what had happened to his clothes, but as he grew older, he began to hate it.
People started to avoid him. When he walked into a room, people would always stare, and teenagers aren’t the most forgiving of people. Walking through the hallway, the black and white kids gave him a wide berth, stepping back like he had the plague or some other life-threatening disease. Whispers about Brendon Urie and his strange descent into the hellish reality of colour (as the others saw it) began to run rife around the school, and soon, the town.
And for 16 year old Brendon, who just wanted more than anything to fit in, his life was like some sort of terrible waking nightmare that he couldn’t escape from.
***
One day, Brendon got sick of it all. Being different wasn’t all that it cracked up to be, and he wished more than anything he could belong to the black and white world again, where everyone was the same. But he knew that would never happen. So one night, when his parents were sleeping, he got up and left.
***
Brendon walked down his street aimlessly, leaving his neighbourhood and just letting his legs take him wherever. He stopped in front of an abandoned park, illuminated by the white light coming from the black street lights. He walked over to a nearby bench that glowed dark grey in the pale light. Sitting down, Brendon buried his head in his hands, unable to stop the sobs that were bottled up inside of him from breaking out. It was so hard to keep a smile on his face and pretend that he was alright everyday.
Footsteps made him raise his head, uttering a shaky, “Who-who’s there?” while wiping his nose with the sleeve of his red jacket. A twig snapped as a tall figure stepped out from underneath the black trees in front of him. Brendon reeled back slightly, his eyes widening so much he was sure they were about to pop out of his head. For there, in front of him, stood a coloured boy.
His hair was a lighter brown that Brendon’s own, and his eyes glinted in the grey moonlight, brown like Brendon’s as well, but more of a hazel-y colour. His clothes were coloured as well; his shirt was yellow, with pale arms peaking out from the sleeves, and his jeans were a faded dark blue. His eyes were fixed on Brendon with an intense gaze, moving to stand directly in front of Brendon, who tilted his head back to look at him. He held out his hand.
“My name’s Ryan,” he said. “Come with me and I can help you.” Brendon took a sharp intake of breath, shifting his gaze to flicker back and forth between the other boy’s face and his outstretched hand. Finally, he took Ryan’s hand, using it to pull himself to his feet.
“I’m Brendon,” he said, by way of introduction. Ryan nodded, smiling. Still holding Brendon’s hand, he led the boy off into the black night, the bright colours of their clothes acting as beacons. As he let himself be pulled along, Brendon didn’t look back once.
And where the two boys had walked on the grass, patches of green in the shape of two sets of footprints appeared that would puzzle the inhabitants of the black and white world for years to come.
Please rate and review
Holidays, whooo! XD
Brendon has always been an oddity.
Ever since he was born he’s had to face judgment and ridicule, just for a simple thing that he cannot help. And no, it wasn’t the fact that he needed glasses or because of his short stature, no, it was much more than that. You see, Brendon is coloured. And in a world where everything is black and white, that’s not such a good thing.
***
It started off with a smile. Brendon was a happy baby, more so than others. He constantly smiled, staring out at the world with his big and innocent eyes, seemingly intrigued about everything.
From there, it moved to his hair. It was black at first, but it began to develop a brownish tinge in his years of being a toddler. Even now it sometimes still looks black from a distance, but when you get up close, you can tell that it’s a dark brown.
Then his eyes started to change. Slowly, like his hair, brown swirls began to appear, mixing in and flashing whenever he laughed or grinned. People began to murmur about this abnormal change, whispering behind their hands about how it wasn’t right. Brendon’s parents tried to keep him locked inside the house, away from the prying eyes of the unforgiving world, but alas, there is a time when the need to attend school arises. Unfortunately for Brendon, by that stage, his skin was already starting to rid itself of the white-grey hue and take on a pale, creamy appearance. By now, everyone was used to the Urie’s strange son, blaming his looks on a genetic malfunction, but that didn’t mean they were pleased or happy about it.
In a world where rules were strict and followed to the letter, and everyone and everything were perfect, Brendon was shunned.
***
Then, when Brendon was 10, his transformation took on a whole new level.
He woke up as per usual in his black and white room, the sun sending warm waves of grey in through the window. Rising to get ready for school, Brendon headed to his dark grey closet, pulling it open and rifling through his clothes, every one a dull shade of grey, white or black. Finding a pair of jeans and a light-ish t shirt, he pulled them on, tying up the laces on a battered pair of converse. It wasn’t until he entered the kitchen that he became aware that something had happened.
Turning around as she heard footsteps, Mrs. Urie screamed upon seeing her son. This scream brought her husband running, who in turn, let out a strangled yell, his face turning a dark grey.
“Go and change your clothes! Now!” he yelled at Brendon while trying to comfort his hysterical wife. Confused, Brendon went and did as he was told, stopping and staring open mouthed at his reflection in the mirror inside his closet when he walked into his room.
Brendon’s clothes were no longer part of the world of black and white.
Instead of wearing almost-black jeans, he was now wearing dark blue jeans. His light-grey top had turned a bright blue, and his shoes were dark red. Brendon’s eyes widened in amazement as he pivoted back and forth on his heels, gazing at himself from all angles in the mirror. He could barely contain the small giggle that bubbled up inside him and escaped his mouth. Then, with a sinking feeling, he remembered his father’s words.
Pulling his newly-changed t-shirt over his head, his posture slumped. Brendon half expected the shirt to lose its colour once it lost contact with him, but to his surprise it retained it. Turning to a different shirt, a darker one, he touched the fabric, giving a little cry when a red colour began to sprout and run through the material like water, travelling all over the shirt from the place where Brendon had touched. Gasping in astonishment, the boy touched his hand to another t-shirt. This one turned green. The next one was yellow, the one after that was purple and the one after that was a dark green. Brendon kept touching his clothes until all of them contained colour. He stood there in front of his closet dumbly, transfixed by the rainbow before him.
There was another scream and Brendon spun in shock to see his mother standing in the doorway of his room, trembling. His father was hot on her heels, his face palpitated by rage. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. He had it all – the perfect wife, perfect house, perfect job; he was just fine with living in a black and white world, thank you very much. Now, his son had come along and everything had started to change.
Much to Brendon’s father’s disgust, Brendon’s clothes didn’t fade over the next few minutes or hours like he hoped they would. Nor over the next few days or week. And neither did the colour leech from them in the wash, or over the next month.
And so it seemed that Brendon had begun to bring colour into the world.
***
Everyone at school hated him. Brendon thought that the common opinion that school was hell was an understatement for everybody except him. He stood out like a sore thumb with his bright clothes. At first, he loved it. He relished in the fact that he was different from everyone else; that he was being noticed for once. Brendon loved what had happened to his clothes, but as he grew older, he began to hate it.
People started to avoid him. When he walked into a room, people would always stare, and teenagers aren’t the most forgiving of people. Walking through the hallway, the black and white kids gave him a wide berth, stepping back like he had the plague or some other life-threatening disease. Whispers about Brendon Urie and his strange descent into the hellish reality of colour (as the others saw it) began to run rife around the school, and soon, the town.
And for 16 year old Brendon, who just wanted more than anything to fit in, his life was like some sort of terrible waking nightmare that he couldn’t escape from.
***
One day, Brendon got sick of it all. Being different wasn’t all that it cracked up to be, and he wished more than anything he could belong to the black and white world again, where everyone was the same. But he knew that would never happen. So one night, when his parents were sleeping, he got up and left.
***
Brendon walked down his street aimlessly, leaving his neighbourhood and just letting his legs take him wherever. He stopped in front of an abandoned park, illuminated by the white light coming from the black street lights. He walked over to a nearby bench that glowed dark grey in the pale light. Sitting down, Brendon buried his head in his hands, unable to stop the sobs that were bottled up inside of him from breaking out. It was so hard to keep a smile on his face and pretend that he was alright everyday.
Footsteps made him raise his head, uttering a shaky, “Who-who’s there?” while wiping his nose with the sleeve of his red jacket. A twig snapped as a tall figure stepped out from underneath the black trees in front of him. Brendon reeled back slightly, his eyes widening so much he was sure they were about to pop out of his head. For there, in front of him, stood a coloured boy.
His hair was a lighter brown that Brendon’s own, and his eyes glinted in the grey moonlight, brown like Brendon’s as well, but more of a hazel-y colour. His clothes were coloured as well; his shirt was yellow, with pale arms peaking out from the sleeves, and his jeans were a faded dark blue. His eyes were fixed on Brendon with an intense gaze, moving to stand directly in front of Brendon, who tilted his head back to look at him. He held out his hand.
“My name’s Ryan,” he said. “Come with me and I can help you.” Brendon took a sharp intake of breath, shifting his gaze to flicker back and forth between the other boy’s face and his outstretched hand. Finally, he took Ryan’s hand, using it to pull himself to his feet.
“I’m Brendon,” he said, by way of introduction. Ryan nodded, smiling. Still holding Brendon’s hand, he led the boy off into the black night, the bright colours of their clothes acting as beacons. As he let himself be pulled along, Brendon didn’t look back once.
And where the two boys had walked on the grass, patches of green in the shape of two sets of footprints appeared that would puzzle the inhabitants of the black and white world for years to come.
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