Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco

Wishing to be the Friction in Your Jeans

by MyNomDePlume 0 reviews

Inspired by Tattered Jeans (by snake56tongue) except different.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Published: 2012-04-23 - Updated: 2012-04-24 - 711 words - Complete

I stare at the stranger in the mirror, desperate to find something - anything - that will prove that I'm looking at my reflection. The eyeliner you used on my face looks absurd and I'm wondering what the hell I was thinking when I agreed to this. You love the dramatics, dragging the rest of us along on your circus parade. Maybe you should stick to writing lyrics and playing guitar. Of course not, it's not exuberant enough for you, now is it?

I see you in the mirror behind me. You're flirting with one of the dancers - as usual. You love it. To be able to toy with my heart, watching me float up to the ceiling before sending me spiraling down toward the linoleum floor. I can't possibly hate you for it though, it's one of the countless reasons why I love you. What can I say, I have a thing for heart-breaking, eyeliner-wearing, guitar players.

The girl is finally called out of the dressing room. She whispers something, making you chuckle before she leaves. You look at me briefly before following her, a smug smile dancing on your lips and I know it's not for the girl. I roll my eyes and pretend not to care, but I do. It hurts so much to see your eyes twinkle when you laugh at some girl's joke, to see you blow her a kiss, to see you eye her as she leaves. To know that you don't care for me as much as I do for you. I'll take a bullet for you, but I know you won't do the same. An unrequited love. From me, the naive and lovesick puppy, to you. I wipe a single tear from my cheek sharply, furious with myself.

"You will not cry. Brendon Urie does not cry. You will. Not. Fucking. Cry. Ryan isn't worth it. He's not fucking worth it."

"Who are you talking to, Brenny?" I whip around to see you leaning against the wall, taking a drag on a cigarette.

My cheeks redden instantly. You crept in so quietly, I hadn't noticed you standing there. Suddenly, I'm unable to prevent an onslaught of tears. I turn around and bury my head in my arms.

"Just get out. Get the fuck out!" I'm so upset that I punch the mirror violently, shattering the glass and cutting my hand. You don't leave. Instead, you come closer. You reach out to examine the damage I inflicted upon myself. I pull away, cradling my injured hand.

"Please leave. You've done enough." I whisper hoarsely before starting to sob once more.

"I'm so sorry, Bren."

"No you're not."

"But I really am. I thought you liked it when I play hard-to-get. I didn't think it upset you this much." I look up at you in disbelief. After all the time you've spent flirting with girls and playing with my heart, I'm not prepared to trust you.

"Prove it, Ross."

You cup my face in your soft hands, forcing me to look into your golden eyes. I see truth in those eyes, but I'm unable to say anything because you've already closed the gap between our mouths. You bite my lip gently, drawing forth a slight moan. I position my hands on the back of your neck as you press me up against the wall. Your lips trail down my neck, nibbling every so often. I let out a whimper, unable to control myself. I've been waiting for this for a long time and you feel better than I ever imagined.

"I'm so sorry, Bren." you murmur again, the truthful words vibrating against my sweating skin. I'm incapable of forming words, replying with another soft moan.

A sharp knock on the door brings us back to reality. We pull apart reluctantly.

"Ten minutes 'till show time!"

"We'll be there in a few minutes!" you call back before turning to me, "Let me fix that makeup for you."

This time, I don't wonder what the hell I'm thinking as I follow you to get more eyeliner.

I know, totally sappy ending, right? That's just who I am I guess, all rainbows and happily ever afters and sparkly crap. What can I say, I've got my quirks...
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