Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Broken Hearts And Broken Smiles
On You're Life Swear You Won't Scream
4 reviewsWe meet up with Elizabeth four years on and see how she has ended up. Chapter title taken from Die So Fluid
0Unrated
Disclaimer: I do not own Panic at the Disco [insert something funny here]
4 Years Later:
Elizabeth's POV
I rolled over in my bed, trying and failing rather miserably to make myself feel more comfortable in my small bed. I looked around my room that I hadn't bothered painting since I moved back here four years ago. I glanced over to my clock which read 9:59. I knew that any minute now my mother would come waltzing into the room and demanding that I get up and get dressed. I'd ask why when I have already finished university and she'd say because I needed to get out there and go to work, find a man, get married, have kids and settle down, all at the tender young age of 21. I'd snort indignantly and then she'll drop any mail I had on my bed before walking out.
Almost like clock work the moment it turned ten o'clock my mother walked in, her hair in an unforgiving bun covered by a balaclava. She threw open my curtains and chucked the post onto my bed and walked right back out again, presumably to make breakfast.
"What no morning banter?" I mumbled, chucking my bed sheets off of me in a huff and sitting up. I got up slowly and walked into the bathroom switching on the radio on my way out and leaving a trail of clothes that led to the shower. I switched on the shower and stood under the shower head, allowing the warmth of the water to engulf my body.
I reached for the shampoo and began to clean my hair, humming along unconsciously to the radio as I lathered the shampoo into my hair.
...when its nine in the afternoon... I sang.
I realised then that I was actually singing along to Panic at the Disco, singing along with that heartbreaking fucktard, and immediately stopped, thanking God that the song was over. I suddenly didn't feel in a mood to take my time and shower. Partly because I was singing along to his song, but mainly because I could smell that mother was cooking pancakes.
Looking through my wardrobe I settled on a pair of black jeans and yellow babydoll and hurriedly put them on, falling over numerous times as I tried to get my legs into my jeans. The university diet of alcohol and beans had obviously made me gain a few pounds, and my mothers delicious but rather fattening meals weren't really going to help matters.
I skidded past the mirror and then backtracked so that I could look at myself again. I really hadn't changed a lot over the past four years. My perma-tan had vanished of course now I was back in my cold environment, my hair that was once shoulder length and straight as a pin was now just up to my jaw in tight little ringlets, my hips were more womanly, my bust was more womanly. In short I no longer looked about 9.
"Breakfast isn't going to eat itself guys!" My mother called from the kitchen. My mother, I looked more like my mother now. I had my fathers big eyes and his button nose but that basically was it. Sometimes I laughed like him and I had his main personality trait of stubbornness but all in all I was pretty much my mother in a younger form. That meant that I was just as greedy as her too, and she was right. Those pancakes weren't going to eat themselves.
I slipped on my slippers, grabbed my mail and ran down the stairs. When I got to the kitchen she was sitting at her side of the table reading the newspaper. I sat across from her and picked up my pancake in my hand, rolling it up and dipping it into the honey.
"Honestly dear, do you have to eat so -" She was cut off by the sound of someone else coming down the stairs, I looked up to see my mothers boyfriend.
I liked him, he was rather cool, but there was something about him that didn't sit right with me. Maybe it was because my mother was pretty loaded and he was 11 years her junior. However, the look in his eyes whenever he caught sight of my mother told me that he genuinely cared for her. I guess I was so bitter that I couldn't be happy for anyone, even my own mother.
He kissed her on the cheek and took a seat next to her, feeding her grapes as she read the newspaper. I half wanted to puke, and half wanted to coo so I did the next best thing. I smiled and shook my head and continued assaulting my pancakes.
"Bill...bill...bill...bill," I said flipping through my post, "really mum, why give me all the bills, bills, Oh, letter. From America."
They both looked up mid grape feeding, as I waved the letter under their noses. I knew it was probably from dad, and wondered what was so formal that he couldn't just call, or even email. I flipped the letter open and tore at the seal of the envelope, taking out the letter and unfolding it.
It wasn't a letter but rather an invite.
To a wedding.
A wedding?
Who in America would be getting married and choose to invite me?
Was dad getting re-married? Surely he would have told me.
Was Brendon getting married? Surely the media would have told me.
I read as a strange sense of relief washed over me. It's about time that they got married really, we always joked about it. Cassie and I would spend hours on end talking about our marriages to our significant others. It was nice to know that the dream came true for one of us, even if it couldn't come true for me.
I loved Cassie like a sister. She was my best friend in the United States. Something about her told me I could trust her with my deepest secrets as well as my true feelings about Brendon. After what had happened between me and him she let me cry on her shoulder. She didn’t tell me what to do, or ask me for my story; she just let me cry, figuratively of course. I literally went to her house, sat with her in her bedroom and rocked back and forth, my arms wrapped around my legs. She sat with me for hours, not saying anything. She was the only one that knew the story. The real story.
When I told her about wanting to move back to London, she didn't tell me not to. She helped me to weigh up the pros and cons to moving and even took me to the airport when I decided I didn't want to stay in Vegas anymore. Letting me know I'd be missed but not trying to guilty trip me, not that I felt any less guilty leaving everyone behind.
She was my rock, my everything. She didn't send me angry emails about running away from 'poor Brendon' like all my other friends (and even Jon) did. So the least I could do is attend her wedding, even if it was to a member of my estranged boyfriend’s band.
After all, it has been four years, we have matured, and we can deal with this situation...right?
Before I had the chance to think about anything else my mobile started ringing. I ran into my room, throwing around books, clothes, my degree, teddy bears, toys and shoes in the desperate search for the noisy device. Having little luck I dived under the bed and found my phone, bleeping and ringing.
Just as I answered it I heard the sound of a receiver being put down. I had just managed to read the name:
Cassie
"She's going to kill me." I mumbled to myself. I tried to think of a way that I could call her. My mother had done enough to help me and I didn't want to use the phone and increase her already massive pile of bills, I had savings that could cover that of course but still, it's the principal. I could have sent an email telling her that I'm sorry I missed her call but just my luck with my internet being down.
And then it hit me, this was a sign. I have a chance to see my best friend again, to see her walk down the isle, and watch her dreams come true. I have the savings to get a flight and dad would pay for anything I need, mum isn't exactly broke either. I have nothing to do, no responsibilities. I may have to see Brendon again but I guess I'll deal with that when it comes to it. Hell, I could probably even avoid him.
It would be a nice surprise for Cassie, an RSVP in person, a surprise guest at her wedding. It all clicked, my mind was made up long before I consciously realised it.
I dialled Spencers girlfriend Hayley's number into my phone and pressed call. Being the little miss organised that she was she picked up on the second ring.
"Honey, Hi, its Liz." I held the phone away from my ear and allowed her to scream in shock, "Guess whose coming to town?"
"Elizabeth? Is that really you?" She asked in shock, her smile coming through in her voice.
"Nope. It's the tooth fairy. It's prince charming. It's a fucking dream. Of course it's me sweetie pop."
"Sorry, I'm just shocked. Can you blame me? You haven't spoken to any of us for four years. You just up and vanished and then call out of the blue. What am I meant to think?" She didn't sound bitter. She sounded the exact opposite in fact, as if all her Christmases had come simultaneously.
"Well, there is a reason I called, do you wanna hear it? Or do you want to babble more?" I joked. I heard a sudden thud, a squeal and then a mini scuffle.
"I hear ya, what is it?" She said. I could imagine her now, bouncing on her seat, dancing to the sound of my voice and hanging off my every word. Or something like that.
"Well I'm coming back to Vegas..." Cue another loud thud, yet another squeal, and another mini scuffle, "...and I need someone to pick me up from the airport. But you can't let Spencer know."
"Why not?" She asked, I involuntarily rolled my eyes, she could be quite stupid when she wanted to be.
"Because, you tell him, he tells the guys, news gets around to Cass, and my surprise is no longer a surprise." I chose to leave out the real reason.
That I didn't want Brendon to know I was there. I wanted to get in, watch the wedding from a nice secretive seat right at the back, say congratulations to Cass and be on my merry way, long before the reception. After all, I was only doing this for her, and nobody else.
And it kind of made me feel like I was from Charlie's Angels.
"Cassie will know eventually though, there's the whole rehearsal dinner, dress fittings and the bachelorette party of course. How are you going to do all that without Cassie noticing you?"
"I just won't do all that." I explained. I'd have to give up some of the fun of a friend getting married just to avoid him. Even now he can still affect my life. Damn that stupid asshole Brendon, damn him to hell. Maybe not hell, maybe just purgatory for a couple of weeks.
"That's impossible. You're maid of honour." It was now my turn to drop the phone. This was going to be way harder than I thought.
"I'm what?" I asked, once the phone was back in its rightful place by my ear. I started to pace backwards and forwards trying to clear my head.
"Maid of Honour. Cheif Bridesmaid. Whatever you Brits call it." She giggled at her own joke. "What time will you be at the aiport by."
"First thing tomorrow morning." I said, thankful for the change of subject. "I'll call you before I get on my plane."
"Okay. And Elizabeth? We've all missed you, you know? Escpecially - " I hung up before she could finish the sentance. I didn't want to hear it, and I didn't even believe it really.
-Spencer's POV-
"...Brendon." Hayley finished, hanging up her phone too. She immediately turned on me, pointing her finger threateningly.
"Elizabeth is coming to the wedding. Promise you wont tell anyone? The last thing I want is her going back to London before her and Brendon have at least talked."
"Promise." I said, my hands behind my back, so that she couldn't see my fingers which were crossed.
A/N: I know. I know.
Sneaky Spencer.
Where the buck is Brendon, right?
He'll be there soon don't worry.
And you'll eventually find out what actually happened on that day as the story goes on.
I've decided I'm going to switch the point's of view between Elizabeth and Brendon.
4 Years Later:
Elizabeth's POV
I rolled over in my bed, trying and failing rather miserably to make myself feel more comfortable in my small bed. I looked around my room that I hadn't bothered painting since I moved back here four years ago. I glanced over to my clock which read 9:59. I knew that any minute now my mother would come waltzing into the room and demanding that I get up and get dressed. I'd ask why when I have already finished university and she'd say because I needed to get out there and go to work, find a man, get married, have kids and settle down, all at the tender young age of 21. I'd snort indignantly and then she'll drop any mail I had on my bed before walking out.
Almost like clock work the moment it turned ten o'clock my mother walked in, her hair in an unforgiving bun covered by a balaclava. She threw open my curtains and chucked the post onto my bed and walked right back out again, presumably to make breakfast.
"What no morning banter?" I mumbled, chucking my bed sheets off of me in a huff and sitting up. I got up slowly and walked into the bathroom switching on the radio on my way out and leaving a trail of clothes that led to the shower. I switched on the shower and stood under the shower head, allowing the warmth of the water to engulf my body.
I reached for the shampoo and began to clean my hair, humming along unconsciously to the radio as I lathered the shampoo into my hair.
...when its nine in the afternoon... I sang.
I realised then that I was actually singing along to Panic at the Disco, singing along with that heartbreaking fucktard, and immediately stopped, thanking God that the song was over. I suddenly didn't feel in a mood to take my time and shower. Partly because I was singing along to his song, but mainly because I could smell that mother was cooking pancakes.
Looking through my wardrobe I settled on a pair of black jeans and yellow babydoll and hurriedly put them on, falling over numerous times as I tried to get my legs into my jeans. The university diet of alcohol and beans had obviously made me gain a few pounds, and my mothers delicious but rather fattening meals weren't really going to help matters.
I skidded past the mirror and then backtracked so that I could look at myself again. I really hadn't changed a lot over the past four years. My perma-tan had vanished of course now I was back in my cold environment, my hair that was once shoulder length and straight as a pin was now just up to my jaw in tight little ringlets, my hips were more womanly, my bust was more womanly. In short I no longer looked about 9.
"Breakfast isn't going to eat itself guys!" My mother called from the kitchen. My mother, I looked more like my mother now. I had my fathers big eyes and his button nose but that basically was it. Sometimes I laughed like him and I had his main personality trait of stubbornness but all in all I was pretty much my mother in a younger form. That meant that I was just as greedy as her too, and she was right. Those pancakes weren't going to eat themselves.
I slipped on my slippers, grabbed my mail and ran down the stairs. When I got to the kitchen she was sitting at her side of the table reading the newspaper. I sat across from her and picked up my pancake in my hand, rolling it up and dipping it into the honey.
"Honestly dear, do you have to eat so -" She was cut off by the sound of someone else coming down the stairs, I looked up to see my mothers boyfriend.
I liked him, he was rather cool, but there was something about him that didn't sit right with me. Maybe it was because my mother was pretty loaded and he was 11 years her junior. However, the look in his eyes whenever he caught sight of my mother told me that he genuinely cared for her. I guess I was so bitter that I couldn't be happy for anyone, even my own mother.
He kissed her on the cheek and took a seat next to her, feeding her grapes as she read the newspaper. I half wanted to puke, and half wanted to coo so I did the next best thing. I smiled and shook my head and continued assaulting my pancakes.
"Bill...bill...bill...bill," I said flipping through my post, "really mum, why give me all the bills, bills, Oh, letter. From America."
They both looked up mid grape feeding, as I waved the letter under their noses. I knew it was probably from dad, and wondered what was so formal that he couldn't just call, or even email. I flipped the letter open and tore at the seal of the envelope, taking out the letter and unfolding it.
It wasn't a letter but rather an invite.
To a wedding.
A wedding?
Who in America would be getting married and choose to invite me?
Was dad getting re-married? Surely he would have told me.
Was Brendon getting married? Surely the media would have told me.
You are cordially invited to the union of two hearts:
Jonathan Walker and Cassiopeia Phillips
Date: 18th November 2008
Place: Fields Green Park
Time: 10:00am
R.S.V.P
I read as a strange sense of relief washed over me. It's about time that they got married really, we always joked about it. Cassie and I would spend hours on end talking about our marriages to our significant others. It was nice to know that the dream came true for one of us, even if it couldn't come true for me.
I loved Cassie like a sister. She was my best friend in the United States. Something about her told me I could trust her with my deepest secrets as well as my true feelings about Brendon. After what had happened between me and him she let me cry on her shoulder. She didn’t tell me what to do, or ask me for my story; she just let me cry, figuratively of course. I literally went to her house, sat with her in her bedroom and rocked back and forth, my arms wrapped around my legs. She sat with me for hours, not saying anything. She was the only one that knew the story. The real story.
When I told her about wanting to move back to London, she didn't tell me not to. She helped me to weigh up the pros and cons to moving and even took me to the airport when I decided I didn't want to stay in Vegas anymore. Letting me know I'd be missed but not trying to guilty trip me, not that I felt any less guilty leaving everyone behind.
She was my rock, my everything. She didn't send me angry emails about running away from 'poor Brendon' like all my other friends (and even Jon) did. So the least I could do is attend her wedding, even if it was to a member of my estranged boyfriend’s band.
After all, it has been four years, we have matured, and we can deal with this situation...right?
Before I had the chance to think about anything else my mobile started ringing. I ran into my room, throwing around books, clothes, my degree, teddy bears, toys and shoes in the desperate search for the noisy device. Having little luck I dived under the bed and found my phone, bleeping and ringing.
Just as I answered it I heard the sound of a receiver being put down. I had just managed to read the name:
Cassie
"She's going to kill me." I mumbled to myself. I tried to think of a way that I could call her. My mother had done enough to help me and I didn't want to use the phone and increase her already massive pile of bills, I had savings that could cover that of course but still, it's the principal. I could have sent an email telling her that I'm sorry I missed her call but just my luck with my internet being down.
And then it hit me, this was a sign. I have a chance to see my best friend again, to see her walk down the isle, and watch her dreams come true. I have the savings to get a flight and dad would pay for anything I need, mum isn't exactly broke either. I have nothing to do, no responsibilities. I may have to see Brendon again but I guess I'll deal with that when it comes to it. Hell, I could probably even avoid him.
It would be a nice surprise for Cassie, an RSVP in person, a surprise guest at her wedding. It all clicked, my mind was made up long before I consciously realised it.
I dialled Spencers girlfriend Hayley's number into my phone and pressed call. Being the little miss organised that she was she picked up on the second ring.
"Honey, Hi, its Liz." I held the phone away from my ear and allowed her to scream in shock, "Guess whose coming to town?"
"Elizabeth? Is that really you?" She asked in shock, her smile coming through in her voice.
"Nope. It's the tooth fairy. It's prince charming. It's a fucking dream. Of course it's me sweetie pop."
"Sorry, I'm just shocked. Can you blame me? You haven't spoken to any of us for four years. You just up and vanished and then call out of the blue. What am I meant to think?" She didn't sound bitter. She sounded the exact opposite in fact, as if all her Christmases had come simultaneously.
"Well, there is a reason I called, do you wanna hear it? Or do you want to babble more?" I joked. I heard a sudden thud, a squeal and then a mini scuffle.
"I hear ya, what is it?" She said. I could imagine her now, bouncing on her seat, dancing to the sound of my voice and hanging off my every word. Or something like that.
"Well I'm coming back to Vegas..." Cue another loud thud, yet another squeal, and another mini scuffle, "...and I need someone to pick me up from the airport. But you can't let Spencer know."
"Why not?" She asked, I involuntarily rolled my eyes, she could be quite stupid when she wanted to be.
"Because, you tell him, he tells the guys, news gets around to Cass, and my surprise is no longer a surprise." I chose to leave out the real reason.
That I didn't want Brendon to know I was there. I wanted to get in, watch the wedding from a nice secretive seat right at the back, say congratulations to Cass and be on my merry way, long before the reception. After all, I was only doing this for her, and nobody else.
And it kind of made me feel like I was from Charlie's Angels.
"Cassie will know eventually though, there's the whole rehearsal dinner, dress fittings and the bachelorette party of course. How are you going to do all that without Cassie noticing you?"
"I just won't do all that." I explained. I'd have to give up some of the fun of a friend getting married just to avoid him. Even now he can still affect my life. Damn that stupid asshole Brendon, damn him to hell. Maybe not hell, maybe just purgatory for a couple of weeks.
"That's impossible. You're maid of honour." It was now my turn to drop the phone. This was going to be way harder than I thought.
"I'm what?" I asked, once the phone was back in its rightful place by my ear. I started to pace backwards and forwards trying to clear my head.
"Maid of Honour. Cheif Bridesmaid. Whatever you Brits call it." She giggled at her own joke. "What time will you be at the aiport by."
"First thing tomorrow morning." I said, thankful for the change of subject. "I'll call you before I get on my plane."
"Okay. And Elizabeth? We've all missed you, you know? Escpecially - " I hung up before she could finish the sentance. I didn't want to hear it, and I didn't even believe it really.
-Spencer's POV-
"...Brendon." Hayley finished, hanging up her phone too. She immediately turned on me, pointing her finger threateningly.
"Elizabeth is coming to the wedding. Promise you wont tell anyone? The last thing I want is her going back to London before her and Brendon have at least talked."
"Promise." I said, my hands behind my back, so that she couldn't see my fingers which were crossed.
A/N: I know. I know.
Sneaky Spencer.
Where the buck is Brendon, right?
He'll be there soon don't worry.
And you'll eventually find out what actually happened on that day as the story goes on.
I've decided I'm going to switch the point's of view between Elizabeth and Brendon.
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