An hour later, and I still can't for the life of me remember Brendon Urie. I'm obsessing over it, trying to think of every single face I used to see in the corridors of my old high school and... nothing. And he was there. For three years, he was there, watching me as I hid behind big books and big words, flipping everyone off with my, "I don't care you don't like me, because I'm going places and you're not, you fucker" attitude. He was there, watching... wishing... waiting.
Brendon had a crush on me.
Was I blind? I mean, even if he dressed like a dork, he still must have been good-looking. The ugly duckling thing, that's what happened to him. He still had those lips and those eyes and long lashes, he still had that ass, and I totally could have jumped his bones years ago. He wanted me to jump his bones three years ago, four years ago, five years ago. He wanted me five goddamn years ago when he first started high school. Man, why didn't I see him? High school would have been so much nicer if I had had someone to do all sorts of barely legal activities with.
It doesn't matter. Brendon said he's over it, which kind of sucks because... I think I might be really, really screwed. I lie on my bed, close my eyes, and think of Brendon, and my stomach is full of butterflies.
It's already well past midnight when I decide to fuck this shit.
I quickly change out of my pyjamas to my jeans and hoodie, grab my keys and go. The campus is dark and dead, the wind chilly as I walk down the front steps of the frat house. The gigantic university library is just across the square, and I cross the dying grass with hurried steps. The library is open until three in the morning and then opens again at six o'clock. The computers are never fully empty since there are always a few last-minute students writing papers in a frenzy. The rest are just students who are nocturnal. I went through a period of sleeping days and staying up all night last year. It worked for me, except I started missing lectures, so I got a hold of myself again.
A sleepy night guard behind the main desk briefly glances at me as I walk in. Now there are ten floors. Question is, which one is Brendon on?
I go over to the directory: Music - Level 5. Thank you very much.
When I get to Level 5, it's quiet as hell. Every floor has thousands of books in endless rows following more rows, and most of them have computers and study areas too. I walk around aimlessly, feeling lost, because I'm a Level 8 kind of guy (English, obviously). My footsteps sound like loud bangs on the wooden floor, though most likely the sound is magnified by my imagination. Eventually, in the very back corner, I spot a table that is covered in papers, and the jacket thrown on the empty chair is Brendon's.
I pause, trying to find the owner of the jacket. After a bit more wandering, I find him between bookshelves.
Brendon is flipping through the pages of some old, heavy book with a concentrated frown on his face. I walk up to him, suddenly feeling nervous as I take in his body language, relaxed and casual and still always so inviting. His dark brown hair is tugged behind his ear, and really, who knew ears could be that sexy? Goddammit, why do I feel like throwing up or passing out?
Brendon hears my steps, and he looks up from the page he is reading. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of me as I give him an awkward wave.
"Hey," I say, whispering because we're in the library.
"Hi," he whispers back. I keep giving him my awkward smile, and he asks, "What are you doing here?"
"I, um..." I begin. "Good question. I don't know."
Brendon stares me down, and I quickly look away. Oh god, here I go then...
"Look, Brendon. I'm really... I' m really sorry if I was an ass to you in high school. I mean, I was just an angry teenager, I was a jerk to everyone, so..." I mutter and try to smile slightly.
