Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Innocence Eternal

Chapter One

by MyVengefulRomance 1 review

Read, please. (I don't do every chapter summaries, just so you know.) Read and review, actually...

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Crossover, Drama, Romance - Warnings: [!] [?] [V] - Published: 2007-06-03 - Updated: 2007-06-03 - 1454 words

Disclaimer- I don't own anything recognizable, but I do own everything else; this never happened.

A/N- Um...yeah. See first chapter for author's note and warnings and stuff. grins Here's the first chapter where stuff actually happens! YAY! Brendon's five years old in this chapter. Enjoy...

The sun was shining outside. He sat beside the window, staring outwards into the blue sky, not a cloud in sight. A slight smile ghosted his full lips as he rested his head on his elbow.

His chocolate eyes flickered, following an airplane cutting across the sky way high up. His mommy was downstairs, making him lunch.

He smiled as an image of his mommy filled his head. He loved her so much. She was the only person who was ever nice to him. She lit up every room she walked in, with her soft smiles and kind words.

And, oh! She was so pretty! Her ebony hair flowed down to her shoulders, framing her pale face. She had the prettiest emerald eyes that sparkled and danced. When she laughed, crinkles formed at the corners of those beautiful eyes. She was petite, but she was strong.

And he loved her no matter what. He never got angry at his mommy, except for one time. That was the time that she sent him to that scary place with all those mean kids making fun of him. And only because of him being able to read! It was scary. All of a sudden, he couldn't breathe and everything went black. He woke up in a white place that he recognized as the hospital. He went there a lot.

His mommy was there, sitting in the chair next to his bed. She was crying. And so he felt bad for being mad at her for making him go to that scary place. He never liked it when his mommy cried. He needed her to be happy and smile.

But he also knew that the world was a bad place that made his mommy cry at night, or when she thought he wasn't looking. But he always was.

They lived in Las Vegas, Nevada. But they lived in a pretty bad part of town, in a dinky little house. They barely had any furniture, and what they did have, was broken or rickety and about to fall apart. He wanted toys, like every little boy. But he never complained because he knew his mommy was working hard, at two different jobs! Besides, his mommy bought him a little guitar from a garage sale. That was all he needed to have fun.

So he sat there, staring off into space and day-dreaming about flying to the moon. After about ten minutes, he jumped as he heard his mother's voice from downstairs.

"Brendon, sweetheart! Lunch's ready!"

He smiled, jumping from his seat and running downstairs, down the dusty hallway and down the creaky wooden stairs, his socked feet padding on the wooden floor.

He ran through the living room, and finally slowed down as he reached the kitchen.

It was a small room, with a small table in the middle with two folding chairs and all the necessities: a fridge, stove, etc.

His mommy stood at the table, placing two dishes with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on each, along with some potato chips and a glass of milk. Brendon smiled up at his mommy as he wrapped his little arms around her waist.

She smiled back and planted a kiss on the top of his head, ruffling his hair.

"Sit down, sweetie," she told him. "I'm able to eat with you today." He nodded, unable to conceal his happiness at his mommy being able to sit and talk to him. It got lonely, not having any friends to talk to during meals and such. She was always busy, and the neighbor kids hated him. Plus, he didn't go to school. Getting to eat with his mommy was a nice change of things.

He slid into his seat, and his mommy sat across from him.

He watched her, not moving. He just watched, and after a minute, she cocked her head to the side.

"Dig in, sweetie. Go ahead, what are you waiting for?" she said, waving at his plate with her hand. He blushed, slightly embarrassed, and reached for his sandwich. He paused, his hand hovering over the food, looking to his mommy for approval.

She smiled slightly, nodding her son on. He smiled broadly and grabbed the sandwich, taking a huge bite.

Mouth full of food, he asked, "How come you get to eat with me today, Mommy?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Brendon," she scolded, laughing slightly. "And, I, uh, it's complicated, sweetie. You'll understand when you're older."

Brendon knitted his brow, and asked, chewing thoughtfully, "Did you get no customers last night and Big Man get mad?"

Mommy's eyes widened and she gasped.

"Brendon, sweetie, what...what are you talking about?"

"Big Man," Brendon answered slowly. "That big, angry man who yells at you when I'm supposed to be asleep. He yells about you not getting customers...or not getting paid enough. I don't understand it, Mommy. Why aren't you getting customers?"

During the whole time Brendon was speaking, Mommy became more and more flustered, her face draining of all color. She couldn't speak, only gape at her son. This five-year-old couldn't know her nighttime profession, could he? Had he seen her in the act?

Finally gaining some composure, she gasped, "Brendon...what have you seen and heard? Tell Mommy everything."

Brendon nodded, taking a sip of his milk.

"You take a lot of strange men into your room, and close the door. A lot of weird noises-," the boy shuddered involuntarily, "-come out of your room when you do that. And you both come out all sweaty and breathing hard, and the man pays you. But Big Man is never happy, Mommy. Even when you give him lots and lots of money, he hits you and wants more. He's very...what's the word? ...greedy, Mommy."

Mommy had lost all color now, her jaw hanging open as she stared at her son. She had tried so hard to hide what she did at night, but she should've known it would be impossible with such a brilliant boy. She didn't want to do what she did, but it brought in the money she needed to support herself and Brendon. It wasn't really the house that drained her wallet, it was Brendon's medical bills and all the personal needs the boy had. And the personal needs /she /had.

"How long-?"

Brendon shrugged. "I dunno, Mommy. About a year now, I guess."

A choked noise came from the back of Mommy's throat. Her emerald eyes watered, and she was trying so hard not to break down sobbing in front of her son. She couldn't do that. Who knows how Brendon would react?

She slowly pushed the chair out from the table, and stood up.

"I...I, uh, have to go upstairs. Finish eating darling. I'll take you to the park after lunch, just come and get me when you're done. And then, after that, we'll work on your math lessons."

Brendon wrinkled his nose.

"I hate math, Mommy. Can't we work on spelling?"

"No, baby," she responded, smiling slightly. "You need to work on math. You're lagging behind. Now, I'll be upstairs."

And before he could protest, she hurried away and ran into her bedroom, throwing herself on her bed. Tears filled her eyes, and she finally let herself cry for what she had let herself become, and how careless she'd been about letting her only son, her /precious /son see that side of her.

It was time to end it all, she decided. No more prostitution. It had been going on long enough. It was high time to get a /real /job.

And when she heard the tiny feet pattering up the stairs, she had a smile on her face. She was ready, now. And excited. Tonight was the start of the rest of her life.

"Mommy?" Brendon's voice broke into her thoughts, his hand grabbing a hold on her hand. "I'm ready to go," he said, tugging her off the bed.

She smiled, ruffling his thick hair.

"Let's go."

A/N- I hope you liked! I'm trying to actually set up a story for once, instead of just running into it. I like the way it's turning out, though. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!!

(Come on, guys. Please review. And not just 'OMGZ GR8 JOB I LUV IT!!!!!' I'd like some con-crit that is actually constructive. Don't flame me. I want to improve myself, and I need your help.)
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