Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > When the Sky is Blue

Just Don't Make Me Leave

by gerard_is_my_savior 1 review

=] Just read and reveiw!

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG - Genres: Drama,Humor,Romance - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2008-04-27 - Updated: 2008-04-28 - 2815 words

Alena’s P.O.V.

I have had only three hours of sleep. And here I am, eight o’clock sharp at the studio, doing final touches on the album art. I wanted them to love it. If it were anything less than perfect, I would probably kick my own ass.
“Well, we have an early bird!” Ryan said, entering the door. He came from behind me, which through me off guard. He was really sleepy looking. He had his soft brown hair parted to the left and he was wearing a ‘Fall Out Boy’ hoodie with a light fade wash pair of jeans and some green Air Nikes. He looked really good, even for just waking up.
“Yeah, I’ve been here since about seven.”
“Why?” he asked, taking the seat next to me.
“I wanted you guys to like my work. And to kind of think.”
“About what?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee from his ‘I Love Emo Kids’ coffee cup. He looked really cute.
“Nothing, never mind,” I answered.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? We have time; I mean the other guys won’t be here for a while.”
I tried to return my focus on editing a photo of Spencer, but I couldn’t help but to lose myself in those hazel eyes.
“You know what, I’m just thinking about home and about my work.”
“Where are you from?”
“Kansas,” I replied.
“Oh yeah? Do you miss your family?”
“I don’t have a family,” I answered.
“I’m sorry…” he said softly. “Can I asked you what happened?”
“My mother died when I was twelve and my father killed himself shortly after.”
He placed a gentle hand on my back. “Alena…”
“I’m fine,” I said with a soft smile.
“What happened to your mother?”
“She died of cancer.”
“Which kind?”
“She had lung cancer. She didn’t treat it and let it eat away at her until she was finally gone. She said if God wanted her to die, then he would take her as she was.”
“So your mother was very religious?”
“She was a heavy meth user and lost sight of the Lord.”
“Do you blame yourself?”
“Everyday of my life.”
“You shouldn’t.”
I gave him a long, soft look. I took in his every feature, his kind eyes, his cute nose and the way he wore his hair brushed to the side. He was amazing. “She contracted lung cancer when I was seven years old. She always told me that had she not had to scream at me my whole life then maybe she wouldn’t have the cancer. She said had I been a good kid and not pushed her to the limits, she would be a normal, happy and healthy mother and we would all lead normal, happy and healthy lives. And we could live the American Dream. I told her that her smoking and lack of health consciousness led her to where she was.” Ryan just stared at me, waiting for me to go on. “She just hit me across the face.”
“Alena… I’m sorry. I too know what it’s like to be consumed by such an evil. My father was such a heavy drinker. I mean, we shared the same name, but beyond that, we held nothing. Nothing besides hate. He hated me.”

Ryan’s P.O.V.

I hadn’t shared this much about myself with a person in a long time. She made me feel close, warm and secure. I wondered what her arms would feel like around me.
“Ryan,” she said. “I want to tell you so much, but I can’t.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Hey, ya dorks,” Brendon said as he entered the room. Great. We were just getting into some serious conversation and he had to come along. Why did he have to come along? Just when I was getting to know her, become close to her. I wanted her to be so much more than a photographer, so much more than just some girl. I wanted her to be my everything. Why? Why did I want her so much? Was it her long brown hair, or the way she smiled? Or was it those enchanting green eyes that held me so tenderly in her gaze? I imagined her touch to be that soft, so kind and gentle.
“Hey, Brendon!” she said, smiling at him. He smiled back.
“I brought you some coffee,” he said to her. “I would have got you some too, Ryan, but I didn’t know you had come here.”
“I just wanted to get an early start.”
He nodded his head. “I’m sure you did,” he said with a sort of sarcastic tone.
God dammit! I thought. Why the hell was he like this? I know he had told me that he liked her, but I liked her too. I couldn’t blame him for what he felt, but I wanted him to stop liking her. I wanted her all to myself. Was that so wrong?
“Thank you!” she said, taking the Starbucks cup from his hand. She took a sip. “This is delicious, thank you!”
“You’re very welcome,” he said with a warm smile.
“Well,” I said, rising up from my seat. “We should let her finish up. Show us the moment you are done?” I asked Alena.
She nodded her head. “Of course, Ryan! I just hope you like it.”
I gave her a smile. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that I won’t.”
Brendon walked out of the room silently, without looking back at me or her. I nodded to Alena and followed him out. He stood staring at me, leaning against the wall opposite of where I stood.
"Don't," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. I watched his upper lip curl around the rim of the plastic lid. "Don't even say anything."
"We were just talking, Bren. I swear."
"I told you I liked her!"
"And I told the same to you! You and Audrey just broke up! Why do you need her?"
He just rolled his eyes.
"Listen, Brendon," I said. "There should be no reason for you to get jealous! We were just /talking/. Is that so wrong?"
He didn't answer me. He just kept his brown eyes locked on me, holding me frozen against the wall. There before me was my best friend. I loved him very much. We knew everything about each other, all of our flaws, all of our bad habits, all of our secrets. We knew about each other's dark sides and down sides. He had been there for me when my dad passed away. He held me up through all of my turmoil, all of those late nights where it seemed day were so far away, seemed that it would never come, seemed that that eastern horizon would never light up again. I had been there when Audrey and him broke up, when he was brokenhearted and alone. We were brothers, and here a girl I had met only yesterday, we had met only yesterday, was posing some sort of threat on us. I wouldn't allow it.
"You know what, Bren? You can have her. I want you to have her. I don't want us to be different. She's not worth the end of our friendship." I reached out and gently laid my hand on his shoulder.
"You know, Ryan Ross," he said, giving me a warm smile. "You aren't half bad."
"And you don't have half a mind!" I said with a laugh. He laughed back.
"Yeah," he agreed. "I don't"
"Do you want to go see how she's doing?" I asked.
He nodded his head. "Yeah, we've been out here awhile. We should check on her."
I walked over to the door and held it open, letting Brendon go in first. I lingered there for a split second, allowing my grief to set in. What had I just done?

Brendon's P.O.V.

"How's it goin'?" I asked when I walked in. She was busy on her laptop, her glasses lying next to her.
"Great!" she replied, looking up at me all squinty eyed. "I just have to wait for Greg to get here to help finish the border design. He's the art director, you know."
"Yeah," I said. "So... could I maybe have a sneak peak?"
She gave me a smile. How great was that smile. "Well..." she said.”I don't want you to see it unfinished in case you don't like what I have so far..."
"I'm sure I will. I..."
What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore! I'd chime in with a haven't you
"That's my phone," she said. "Hello? Oh, hey Greg.... Oh, I'm sorry. Yeah, no, it's fine.... Of course I'm sure. No, I'm almost done, just wanted your last touches... me? Are you positive. Okay, I won't let you down sir. Okay. Thank you so much. Feel better. Okay, bye!"
"So," I said, gesturing to her little pink KRAZR, "I take it you're a fan?"
She smiled again and nodded. She reached over next to her laptop and put on her glasses. "I've been a fan since you guys very first came out. You guys are SO amazing. I was fifteen years old when you guys came out. I totally fell in love with you...umm... you're sound. That's how I made it through... Never mind. Anyways, Greg is home sick with the flu and won't be able to finish the project for a few days. So it looks like you guys are stuck here for a while, if that's not so bad."
"No, that isn't so bad," said Ryan behind me. Damn it, he scared me. I had forgotten he was standing there, he had been so silent.
"Yeah," I agreed, turning back to Alena. "That's not so bad at all."

Alena's P.O.V.

So here I was, at my hotel room, eating Chinese take out with Brendon Urie. Ryan had declined eating with us, saying that he had some stuff he needed to get done while he was bunkered down and had time. I had suggested to Brendon that we go out and eat somewhere. He insisted that it was far too loud and the paparazzi would be all over them. They would say we were dating or something, and that he didn't need all that kind of business right now. I had agreed with him.
"Back to your room?" he had asked. "Maybe order up some Chinese?"
I had agreed to that too. And now we were sitting right next to each other on the small green sofa, eating egg noodles and shrimp fried rice off of Styrofoam plates with plastic forks and drinking Coke from cans.
"This is nice," Brendon said after eating a spoonful of rice.
"Yeah," he said with a smile. "I don't ever get to do anything slow paced like this. I remember doing this back in the old days. You know, when people were like, 'Who the hell is Panic! At the Disco?'." He laughed and looked at me. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Well, my favorite color is blue, I can play basketball better than most boys, my favorite band in the whole wide world is Panic at the Disco,” I said with a wink. Did I seriously just wink? “Ummm… what else?”
“What’s your full name?” he asked.
"Alena Miller."
"No middle name?" he joked.
"Alena Melody Miller," I said with a laugh.
"That's a beautiful name."
"My mother picked it out. Alena was her middle name and she added Melody for her favorite part of music; the melody." I reached over and took a sip of my Coke.
"Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman."
I sighed and l looked up at him.

Brendon's P.O.V.

I caught sadness in her eyes, those fierce green eyes turned suddenly soft and became wet with unshed tears. She looked as if something inside of her was eating away at her very flesh, tearing her up and open.
"My mother..." she began, swallowed, and started again. "My mother died when I was twelve years old from hereditary lung cancer."
I didn't know what to say. "Alena, I'm sorry. I'm sure she loved you very much," I reached out and took her hand. I'm not sure why.
"No, she did not."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"She said it was my fault. It was all my fault. She said that..." she took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Never mind."
"No, Alena, tell me. Please. Don't hide from me."
She cast those beautiful emerald eyes upon me. "Brendon, she said that I was the evil, unholy broken child of Satin. She said that all her screaming had worn down her lungs and led to this. I told her that her smoking made her that way. And do you know what she did?" She asked with a sob. "She hit me right here," she pointed to a large scar on her temple, usually hidden by her bangs. "And she had no remorse. I was seven years old. Seven years old! I had no idea what it was like to ever be hit. But when my mother did it once, it was never enough. She started hitting me down whenever she got the chance, cursing me to hell. I was just a little girl. I took in every word she told me, every single one. She broke me, made me so vulnerable. She made me this weak individual. It was her fault. God damn it... Brendon I..."
I kissed her suddenly. I just wanted her lips against mine, her body against mine. I wanted to taste her. And Dear Lord, did she taste so good. It was like drinking heaven.
"Brendon," she whispered against my lips. "Brendon... no."
I drew back. "No?"
"Brendon, not with me. You don't want me."
"Yes, yes I do, Alena. Yes I do."
"Brendon," she said suddenly, tears rolling down her face. "Brendon, I am broken."
"Alena, I don't care. I can fix you. I think you are a wonderful person. Please," I said, placing my hand on her dampened cheek. "Please." When she gave me no response I leaned and began kissing her again. At first they were simple light kisses that slowly faded into deep, romantic kisses. I slowly made my tongue roll against hers and she returned it. I felt her wet lips against mine. I could feel her longing, her loneliness, her pain. I could taste her passion, her desire. I felt every emotion just kissing her. I brought my hand slowly to the back of her neck and she placed her small hands against my chest.
"Alena..." I whispered her name. It sounded so good to say it.
"Brendon..." she whispered back.
I began running my fingers through her soft brown hair. And it was soft. I told her that.
"It's my de-frizzing shampoo," she said with a giggle. Her giggle felt so wonderful against my mouth.
"It smells wonderful too," I said.

Alena's P.O.V.

Did he just compliment my hair? And were we kissing? Was I making out with the boy I had had a crush on since high school? Was this real?
I suddenly felt his hand against my back. His hands were cold. Why was he so cold?
"Your hands are cold," I whispered.
"I know," he replied. He kissed me deeper, moving his hands across my thighs. I had never kissed someone like this before. I had never let a boy close to me.
"Brendon," I said, nudging him away. "Brendon, I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," he said back, staring me right in the eyes. "You won't."
"Yes, I will. Brendon, it's best if you just go. Okay? Please."
"Alena, I don't want to leave. I want to stay here with you. We don't have to make out if you don't want to anymore. We could finish lunch and watch some TV or something. Just don't make me leave."
I took a deep breath and looked away. "Brendon, I'm saving you here, okay? If you walk out right now it would be the best decision you will ever make in your life. Please, Brendon. I don't want to hurt you. Just go," I said so softly, I almost couldn't hear myself say it.
I suddenly felt him rise from his seat next to me. I heard his every footstep across the pale carpet. Twelve steps I counted. I heard him loom at the door for only just a moment before I heard it close with a soft click behind him.
"You're welcome," I whispered. "And I'm so sorry."
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