What I Really Am

Chapter 1

Chapter One:: Brendon's POV

  "Would you just fucking leave me alone!" I yell at my father, slamming the door haphazardly. Before they have the chance to follow me, I turn the corner and once I reach the boulevard, begin sporadically cross streets and cut through yards. I have no idea where I am going, exactly, or where I'll end up, but anywhere is better than at home right now. When I begin to get tired, my feet slowly come to a halt. My chest is heaving as I look around and I immediately know where I am when I see nothing but trees to my right; I am on the outside of town. "Dammit," I mutter. What am I going to do out here? It would take at least another half-hour to get home, and I definitely wasn't going there anytime soon, for Dad to degrade me and Mom sit there quietly.

  I sit on the edge of the main road, where the grass meets the pavement. I just sit here, exhausted, for a good ten minutes. A yap snaps me out of my half-asleep state. Something nudges me in the arm and I turn around to see... a puppy? I could swear I've seen this dog somewhere before. It whines and paws at the ground, seeming like it wants me to follow it. "Why the hell not?" I think, and get up, following it into the dense crowd of pine trees. I am still angry and tense, a clear grimace on my face. Every few seconds he looks back, tail wagging and pink tongue sticking out. Within another few minutes, we reach a clearing, and in it lies a crystal blue pond. I sit down under a large pine tree and close my eyes, resting my head on it. I try to push the angry thoughts out of my head, all the punches and tears. It doesn't work. I open my eyes and the dog left, I'm alone. Huh. Where did he go? I stick my hand in my pockets and feel for the oh-so-familiar Zippo lighter. My fingers brush the smooth, hard plastic and I slip the lighter out of my pocket. I roll up my dark purple jacket sleeve on my left arm to reveal the various cut and burn marks.( Looks almost like this, just a little less severe ->

https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTklSFL99nIzvp39HxFhmMMM4Kh5csqAy2Ek58UjKRuPU846ZLGkQ ) I see a small, pale, untouched spot and hold the lighter up to it, flicking the flame on. It flickers and burns, turning the white skin a bright pink. It hurts, but it feels so, so goo-

"S-stop," a young male voice calls out. My finger removes itself and I drop the lighter, looking up ,startled, to find the source of a voice- a boy about my age, seventeen at best, looking at me with wide eyes. His golden, honey-coloured eyes are partially covered by his long and brown swooping bangs.

"Who are you?" I say.

He flips his bangs out of his eyes and replies, "Ryan... Well, George, actually. Ryan, that's my middle name, but just call me Ryan." It sounds a little rough, and he coughs a little at the end. He seems to have not talked in quite a while. He looks down shyly and plays with a thin strip of leather on his wrist. Tentatively, he steps next me and sits down, bending his thin arms and equally long and thin legs. When he turns his gaze back to me, his eyes now seem oddly familiar. Almost like those dog's, but surrounded with smooth skin, not fur. "Why?" he asks, me, presumably about the whole lighter fiasco. He stares at the burns, and I immediately pull down my sleeve, hiding them from view.

"I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay, but let's just say that my parents really fucking hate me. Probably would disown me if they got the chance." I look at him, and his small smile has faded. I swear I see a small tear roll down his face after I say the word 'parents'.

"Oh," he mutters. There is a brief pause. "What's your name?" he asks and scoot a little closer, putting a comforting hand on my thigh.

"Brendon. Brendon Urie." He smiles a little and his eyes sparkle.

"I like that name," he says, and I swear he looks fucking gorgeous right then. No, I think and push the thought out of my head. Thoughts like this is what started this whole thing. I sit there, thinking of what to say.

"Hey, why haven't I seen you at school?" I ask, realizing that in my two years in high school, I have never once seen him; I would've remembered that face for sure.

"I don't exactly go to school," he says quietly,his voice less hoarse. God, he even sounds amazing. But what does he mean by that?

"Did you drop out or something? Or graduate?" I say. He shakes his head.

"No, I... It's hard to explain. I'll tell you later, maybe." And we leave it at that. I soon find myself drifting off with Ryan following suit. It was getting late, anyway. Then after I lay down, I feel a warm weight on my side; it is Ryan, longs bangs brushing his feathery eyelashes, eyelids heavy with sleep.

"Goodnight," he whispers, and nuzzles into my side, head propped comfortably on my chest. I can't help but smile at the sight. Ryan looks so peaceful and sweet. Almost like a sleeping puppy. I soon find myself drifting asleep, dreaming of honey eyes framed in eyeliner and shy smiles; I dream of the boy laying next to me.