Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Trying Not To Make A Scene
You Wouldn't Just Leave Me, Right?
6 reviewsBrendon was the single one. Always. But maybe...Maybe there's someone there for everyone. Even Brendon.
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Thank you to XxIceCreamHeadachexX for reviewing. You're awesome.
Chapter Two: You Wouldn't Just Leave Me, Right?
Soon Brendon found himself alone in his house, pacing. Being by himself, he decided, was not good for him. A few days after he arrived at his home, Brendon booked himself for the next flight to somewhere on the coast of northern California. Packing very little, he left without notice to any of his friends.
When he reached his hotel room, he dumped the belongings he brought on the bed, vowing to unpack eventually. The only thing he wanted to do was relax in the cool, crisp air that was not found indoors.
By the time Brendon had arrived at the beach, a blanket of stars sat up against the sky, hidden behind looming clouds. It was dark and getting cold but the ocean's sands felt warm and inviting. With his flip flops tossed carelessly to his side, Brendon lay in the sand wearing only a pair of jeans (that surprisingly weren't skin tight) and a white dress shirt that he almost didn't wear for fear of getting it dirty. Aside from taking deep breaths of the salty ocean air, Brendon was silent, thinking of everything that he wished that could easily be forgotten. The moon up above him was pale, but bright enough to shine through the numerous rain clouds in the sky, only making Brendon more aware of how much color his skin didn't have. He no longer spent his time in the sunlight. He was indoors at all hours, too exhausted and unhappy to leave the confinement of his home. During the day, Brendon tried to sleep. At night, Brendon tried to sleep. Either way, he couldn't sleep. But something about the sound of the waves nearing his toes relaxed his senses like nothing else could...
When Brendon awoke, he wasn't on the beach anymore. In fact, he wasn't sure where he was exactly. The faint sunlight was spilling in golden slivers through the wooden blinds that rested on the windowpanes. Somehow his pants were folded on a chair some feet away from him, and he was wearing a plain t-shirt that he was sure didn't belong to him. Blinking several times to regain his composure, he made a face, wondering where in hell he could be. But he thought, There is no way this could be hell. It's too cozy. He lay there on the bed, staring at the ceiling, nestled comfortably in between the crisp sheets that covered the bed. he wondered to himself if he should stay where he was or leave, but quickly brushed off any possibility of leaving so suddenly- he thought it to be rude, and he was quite comfortable where he was. A slow creaking noise drew his attention, where a young woman, no older than 21, poked her head in before stepping inside the room. "Good morning," she said simply.
Brendon scrambled to sit up, managing to stutter out "Um...hi...uh…"
The girl, he decided, was beautiful. Her wavy brown hair fell just below her shoulders, curling gently at the bottoms, almost forming perfect ringlets. Her face was constructed almost like a porcelain doll's- decently placed cheekbones hovered below haunting pale brown eyes, complimenting a petite nose and pretty lips.
With no intelligent words to say, Brendon stupidly left his mouth open, gawking at her appearance.
"You know," she said casually, placing a fluffy white towel at Brendon's feet on the bed, "It's not very smart to fall asleep on the beach, especially during high tide when a storm's coming in."
"You're right, it's not. Thank you for taking me in." He gushed gratefully.
"When I saw you out on the beach, you were soaking wet. There was seaweed on your feet," she laughed. "Oh," she said, her pale eyes growing wide, "I almost forgot! My name is Abigail." She offered her hand.
"I'm Brendon," he smiled, shaking her hand.
"It's nice to meet you, Brendon. Now," she said, "If you'd like to take a shower, the bathroom is on the left at the end of the hall. There are clothes in there," she pointed at the dresser against the window. "They should fit. I think. And if you'd like some breakfast, I'll have some ready soon. Did I forget anything?"
"No, definitely not. Thank you so much. I really really appreciate what you're doing," he said, taking her hand. But soon after he realized he had done so, he quickly let go, blushing.
"Okay, then I guess I'll see you in a bit, then? Just follow wherever your nose takes you to find me." Abigail said, gently tapping the tip of Brendon's nose with her finger before she walked out.
"Yes. Of course." Brendon smiled genuinely for the first time in a long while.
Brendon felt refreshed after his shower as he walked to where it smelled like food. He was smiling like a fool. And he enjoyed it. Following the scent of breakfast food, Brendon soon found himself in the kitchen, where Abigail was moving pancakes from the pan to a serving plate. He stood there quietly, with his hands shoved into the pockets of the pants that surprisingly fit him very well. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked cautiously.
Abigail turned her head towards him and smiled, saying, "It would be great if you could bring the plates and such out to the table. They're right behind you."
"Sure," Brendon said, taking the plates and silverware to the dining table, with Abigail following closely behind him.
"This is really good," Brendon complimented on the food. "And you have a beautiful home," he said. Abigail's abode was not the typical beach house commonly found on the coasts. It had a more traditional feel to it; it was older that most houses, but it was very well maintained.
"Thank you," Abigail replied, looking up at him.
"So," he started, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Abigail laughed. "What?"
Starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable and stupid, Brendon's words sounded nervous and hasty. "Well I just assumed because of the clothes... I'm sorry if..." He started.
She laughed again. "No, no, it's ok. Those belong to my brother. He's here occasionally. I don't have a boyfriend."
"Oh. Okay." Brendon said quietly, keeping his head down, feeling embarrassed.
"What about you? Someone as cute as you is bound to have some lucky lady attached at your hip, am I right?" Abigail teased.
Brendon gave her a smile with sad eyes. "No, I don't."
She looked surprised. "Really now? Do you snore or something?"
"I don't think I do. I guess I just get on people's nerves occasionally...sometimes...most of the time..."
"Spaztic personality, maybe?" Abigail guessed.
Brendon smirked. "I guess you could call it that. Do I give off a spaztic vibe?" he asked, wriggling his fingers in the air for effect.
"Not so much. I just have that same issue with most people I meet. It's a bit frustrating."
"I know what you mean. People think I have only two settings," he explained, "Sing and bounce."
Abigail laughed wholeheartedly. "You sing?"
"Occasionally." Brendon muttered, looking down at his empty plate. He saw that Abigail had finished her food as well and extended his hand. "I'll do the dishes."
"It's alright, don't trouble yourself. I'll get to them eventually." Abigail assured, pushing Brendon's hand away.
"I insist."
"Brendon, no." Abigail said firmly.
"Don't worry about it. I don't mind, really."
"Brendon. Listen to me. It's fine."
"Abigail," Brendon started.
"Only my mother calls me Abigail." she interrupted, crossing her arms.
"Fine, Abby, I'll have you know that I'm very stubborn and won't take 'no' for an answer. So please, hand me your plate."
Abigail huffed at him. "You're damn right you're stubborn. Here," she said, giving him her plate. "See if it bothers me that you're washing the plates even though you shouldn't be. Go ahead. Try me."
"Thank you," Brendon smirked, walking into the kitchen. As soon as he started the water, Brendon automatically started singing. Upon hearing this, Abigail quietly crept into the kitchen, standing at the doorway. When he finished, she applauded, smiling.
"Occasional siniging? You sound like a professional. You have a very lovely voice."
"Thanks," Brendon said, color rising to his cheeks. He wiped his hands on his pants. "Hey, do you know anyone that would like to give me a local tour of the area, by any chance?" he asked, hoping Abigail would take up the offer.
"Definitely. Abigail Miller, at your service Mr.-" she offered her hand and paused for him to fill in the missing information.
"Urie," laughed Brendon.
"Alright then, Mr. Urie. Shall we proceed out the door then?" Abigal said, acting as formal as she could without laughing.
"We shall," Brendon said, raising his eyebrows, also trying very hard not to laugh. Once they made it past the front door, however, they both nearly tumbled over in laughter because of their ridiculous behavior.
This, it seemed, was the beginning of something beautiful.
[A/N] So I'm trying to get the hang of writing not short chapters. But could it be too long? Who knows. Wait. You do! That's right! You know the answer! And what better way to share the answer than to review? What can I do to make this better? Feedback is great, guys. =)
Chapter Two: You Wouldn't Just Leave Me, Right?
Soon Brendon found himself alone in his house, pacing. Being by himself, he decided, was not good for him. A few days after he arrived at his home, Brendon booked himself for the next flight to somewhere on the coast of northern California. Packing very little, he left without notice to any of his friends.
When he reached his hotel room, he dumped the belongings he brought on the bed, vowing to unpack eventually. The only thing he wanted to do was relax in the cool, crisp air that was not found indoors.
By the time Brendon had arrived at the beach, a blanket of stars sat up against the sky, hidden behind looming clouds. It was dark and getting cold but the ocean's sands felt warm and inviting. With his flip flops tossed carelessly to his side, Brendon lay in the sand wearing only a pair of jeans (that surprisingly weren't skin tight) and a white dress shirt that he almost didn't wear for fear of getting it dirty. Aside from taking deep breaths of the salty ocean air, Brendon was silent, thinking of everything that he wished that could easily be forgotten. The moon up above him was pale, but bright enough to shine through the numerous rain clouds in the sky, only making Brendon more aware of how much color his skin didn't have. He no longer spent his time in the sunlight. He was indoors at all hours, too exhausted and unhappy to leave the confinement of his home. During the day, Brendon tried to sleep. At night, Brendon tried to sleep. Either way, he couldn't sleep. But something about the sound of the waves nearing his toes relaxed his senses like nothing else could...
When Brendon awoke, he wasn't on the beach anymore. In fact, he wasn't sure where he was exactly. The faint sunlight was spilling in golden slivers through the wooden blinds that rested on the windowpanes. Somehow his pants were folded on a chair some feet away from him, and he was wearing a plain t-shirt that he was sure didn't belong to him. Blinking several times to regain his composure, he made a face, wondering where in hell he could be. But he thought, There is no way this could be hell. It's too cozy. He lay there on the bed, staring at the ceiling, nestled comfortably in between the crisp sheets that covered the bed. he wondered to himself if he should stay where he was or leave, but quickly brushed off any possibility of leaving so suddenly- he thought it to be rude, and he was quite comfortable where he was. A slow creaking noise drew his attention, where a young woman, no older than 21, poked her head in before stepping inside the room. "Good morning," she said simply.
Brendon scrambled to sit up, managing to stutter out "Um...hi...uh…"
The girl, he decided, was beautiful. Her wavy brown hair fell just below her shoulders, curling gently at the bottoms, almost forming perfect ringlets. Her face was constructed almost like a porcelain doll's- decently placed cheekbones hovered below haunting pale brown eyes, complimenting a petite nose and pretty lips.
With no intelligent words to say, Brendon stupidly left his mouth open, gawking at her appearance.
"You know," she said casually, placing a fluffy white towel at Brendon's feet on the bed, "It's not very smart to fall asleep on the beach, especially during high tide when a storm's coming in."
"You're right, it's not. Thank you for taking me in." He gushed gratefully.
"When I saw you out on the beach, you were soaking wet. There was seaweed on your feet," she laughed. "Oh," she said, her pale eyes growing wide, "I almost forgot! My name is Abigail." She offered her hand.
"I'm Brendon," he smiled, shaking her hand.
"It's nice to meet you, Brendon. Now," she said, "If you'd like to take a shower, the bathroom is on the left at the end of the hall. There are clothes in there," she pointed at the dresser against the window. "They should fit. I think. And if you'd like some breakfast, I'll have some ready soon. Did I forget anything?"
"No, definitely not. Thank you so much. I really really appreciate what you're doing," he said, taking her hand. But soon after he realized he had done so, he quickly let go, blushing.
"Okay, then I guess I'll see you in a bit, then? Just follow wherever your nose takes you to find me." Abigail said, gently tapping the tip of Brendon's nose with her finger before she walked out.
"Yes. Of course." Brendon smiled genuinely for the first time in a long while.
Brendon felt refreshed after his shower as he walked to where it smelled like food. He was smiling like a fool. And he enjoyed it. Following the scent of breakfast food, Brendon soon found himself in the kitchen, where Abigail was moving pancakes from the pan to a serving plate. He stood there quietly, with his hands shoved into the pockets of the pants that surprisingly fit him very well. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked cautiously.
Abigail turned her head towards him and smiled, saying, "It would be great if you could bring the plates and such out to the table. They're right behind you."
"Sure," Brendon said, taking the plates and silverware to the dining table, with Abigail following closely behind him.
"This is really good," Brendon complimented on the food. "And you have a beautiful home," he said. Abigail's abode was not the typical beach house commonly found on the coasts. It had a more traditional feel to it; it was older that most houses, but it was very well maintained.
"Thank you," Abigail replied, looking up at him.
"So," he started, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Abigail laughed. "What?"
Starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable and stupid, Brendon's words sounded nervous and hasty. "Well I just assumed because of the clothes... I'm sorry if..." He started.
She laughed again. "No, no, it's ok. Those belong to my brother. He's here occasionally. I don't have a boyfriend."
"Oh. Okay." Brendon said quietly, keeping his head down, feeling embarrassed.
"What about you? Someone as cute as you is bound to have some lucky lady attached at your hip, am I right?" Abigail teased.
Brendon gave her a smile with sad eyes. "No, I don't."
She looked surprised. "Really now? Do you snore or something?"
"I don't think I do. I guess I just get on people's nerves occasionally...sometimes...most of the time..."
"Spaztic personality, maybe?" Abigail guessed.
Brendon smirked. "I guess you could call it that. Do I give off a spaztic vibe?" he asked, wriggling his fingers in the air for effect.
"Not so much. I just have that same issue with most people I meet. It's a bit frustrating."
"I know what you mean. People think I have only two settings," he explained, "Sing and bounce."
Abigail laughed wholeheartedly. "You sing?"
"Occasionally." Brendon muttered, looking down at his empty plate. He saw that Abigail had finished her food as well and extended his hand. "I'll do the dishes."
"It's alright, don't trouble yourself. I'll get to them eventually." Abigail assured, pushing Brendon's hand away.
"I insist."
"Brendon, no." Abigail said firmly.
"Don't worry about it. I don't mind, really."
"Brendon. Listen to me. It's fine."
"Abigail," Brendon started.
"Only my mother calls me Abigail." she interrupted, crossing her arms.
"Fine, Abby, I'll have you know that I'm very stubborn and won't take 'no' for an answer. So please, hand me your plate."
Abigail huffed at him. "You're damn right you're stubborn. Here," she said, giving him her plate. "See if it bothers me that you're washing the plates even though you shouldn't be. Go ahead. Try me."
"Thank you," Brendon smirked, walking into the kitchen. As soon as he started the water, Brendon automatically started singing. Upon hearing this, Abigail quietly crept into the kitchen, standing at the doorway. When he finished, she applauded, smiling.
"Occasional siniging? You sound like a professional. You have a very lovely voice."
"Thanks," Brendon said, color rising to his cheeks. He wiped his hands on his pants. "Hey, do you know anyone that would like to give me a local tour of the area, by any chance?" he asked, hoping Abigail would take up the offer.
"Definitely. Abigail Miller, at your service Mr.-" she offered her hand and paused for him to fill in the missing information.
"Urie," laughed Brendon.
"Alright then, Mr. Urie. Shall we proceed out the door then?" Abigal said, acting as formal as she could without laughing.
"We shall," Brendon said, raising his eyebrows, also trying very hard not to laugh. Once they made it past the front door, however, they both nearly tumbled over in laughter because of their ridiculous behavior.
This, it seemed, was the beginning of something beautiful.
[A/N] So I'm trying to get the hang of writing not short chapters. But could it be too long? Who knows. Wait. You do! That's right! You know the answer! And what better way to share the answer than to review? What can I do to make this better? Feedback is great, guys. =)
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