The Black Rose Season

2

Of course I know Brendon Urie. Anyone who visits the campus daily knows Brendon Urie, the untouchable Brendon Urie, the troublemaker Brendon Urie, that fucking gorgeous Brendon Urie. The Department of English Literature is located just next to the Department of Music, and so more than once on my way for a lecture, I've seen a boy with dark brown hair staggering towards the other building, blinking in the sunlight in those damn tight jeans that fit him so nicely.

Brendon Urie has a reputation, to say the least.

As Pete throws his name into the conversation, my mind races with all I know of Brendon. I saw him just earlier outside the frat house, chanting into the megaphone. He is friends with William, he is a Sigma, he studies music. I've never even talked to Brendon, and we've never been introduced, but I know him. He is the black sheep of the fraternity.

The Sigmas, in general, are the best of the best in Swan University. They pride themselves on their alumni holding high positions in the government, in becoming famous authors, scientists, inventors and Noble prize winners. The Sigmas party hard, but they study hard too. I've often wondered how they manage it. Brendon Urie is infamous for starting wild parties in the frat house on Wednesday afternoons. Last year, the police were called in twice. He is, from what I understand, mutually loved and hated. And of course, the other Sigmas are behind Brendon 100%, because Brendon is a "bro" and that means that they support him, no matter what.

"Yeah, I know Brendon Urie," I tell Pete. "Well, I know of him," I clarify.

What I don't tell Pete is that, in my mind, I know Brendon very intimately. It's just one of those little things you'd never admit to, that you see someone who pleases your eye, and you kind of begin to daydream about him. And you know that what happens in your head is entirely fictional, but you do it anyway. You put words in his mouth, you give him a personality, and late at night, you go to bed, think of this perfect person you've created, and smile.

So this is my Brendon Urie: he loves my poetry, of course. He studies music, so I imagine him trying to compose songs based on famous love poems. He's totally into me, has eyes for no one else in this world. Amazing in bed, this goes without saying. Not that our relationship is sex-based, no, there's plenty of romance. We hold hands, watch sunsets and whisper sweet nothings. Brendon adores me the way I am, loves my sense of humour and sense of style. Brendon is sensitive and caring and gentle and is not afraid to cry.

It's nothing serious, it's not even a crush. Brendon could be anyone, really, but he just caught my eye and made it into my daydreams. I know Brendon is not like that, but hey, it's my brain. It makes me feel less lonely.

Still, I feel unnerved knowing that the guy I go on long walks with in my head is somehow connected to the job I have taken on.

"Brendon is the leader of the secret society," Pete announces.

"What?" I snort. I don't mean to, but come on. Pete gives me an angry look, and I force down a snigger. "Look, surely the leader of a society like that would keep a lower profile."

"You laugh, but I have my sources," Pete informs me bluntly. "So, you need to become Brendon Urie's best friend."