Not a Fan Fiction . . . Sort of

7

"You're going out on a Saturday with a teacher?" Chara asked, sitting on her bed as I dug through our closet for something to wear.

"For research," I insisted, grabbing a flannel and a pair of jeans. "Too country?" I held them up for Chara to judge and she nodded, taking the jeans and pointing back into the closet.

"Wear the black ones, it'll look more punk." She said, wadding up my jeans and throwing them in a hamper by the door.

"Those are clean!" I scolded her, to which she replied with merely a shrug. Before I could argue with her, there was a knock on the door. "He's here! Stall him while I change." I was still wearing my pajamas, a mismatched set to be exact. It would have been brutally embarrassing for him to see me like that.

"Good morning!" I heard Chara say from around the corner. I quickly started to change as she tried to make small talk.

"Is this Ellesia's dorm?" Brendon's voice echoed through our room and I tugged up my jeans in an attempt to go faster.

"Oh, yeah, she's just getting changed. I'm supposed to—" not give him a mental image of me changing! Good God, woman!

"You're horrible!" I gasped, shoving Chara into the wall beside her. My shirt was half tucked in, but it didn't matter when I had to defend myself against other embarrassments. Brendon's eyebrows shot up in surprise as I pushed Chara back into the room and closed the door behind me.

"Don't stay out too late, kids!" She screamed through the door and I rolled my eyes. It was my turn to drag Brendon down a hallway by his elbow.

"Ignore her, sometimes I wonder why we're even friends." Brendon chuckled lowly at that, smoothly sliding his arm out of my grasp and opening the door to the parking lot.

"Shall we?" He grinned, letting me walk through the threshold before him. I gave a curt nod and, once in the car, cleared my throat in the most business-like way.

"Where, exactly, are we going?" I asked as Brendon started to drive off towards our destination.

"Well, if you're going to write about my divorce, I better get divorced before you start." He said it lightheartedly, but I could tell that he was anxious. I mean, of course he would be anxious, his worst nightmare (I presume) was just coming true. I doubt he ever thought him and Sarah would drift apart, nobody could have foreseen it.

"Wait, so we're going to the courthouse?" I asked, scribbling down notes in the journal I had brought.

"For a few minutes. Then I thought we could go somewhere a little bit more private to do the interview. Thoughts?" We hit a red light and he looked over at me, awaiting my response. All that was running through my head was the word private over and over. Private with Brendon Urie. Private! Private . . .

"Private?" I choked out, sounding pathetic; I was a writer, speaking wasn't my strong suit. Brendon chuckled lightly and glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road.

"Yes, private. Is that a problem?" I took a few seconds to form an answer. My first instinct was yes. Yes, that is a problem because of the teacher code or whatever, and because of the law and . . .

I didn't say yes. Instead I said, "Why would it be a problem? I see no problem here. Nope!" Of course, I sounded like a bumbling idiot, and Brendon actually flat out laughed at me for it.

"Ellie, relax, there's nothing to worry about. We're friends, remember?" He gave me a reassuring pat on the hand, which I had resting on my knee. At least, it was meant to be reassuring, but it just made me doubt even more that we were, in fact, friends—Or, rather, just friends. It seemed silly of me, really, because Brendon had only just gotten out of a serious long term relationship a few months prior. Obviously he wouldn't be anywhere near ready to start something new, even something casual. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but wonder if I was wrong about that. 

There was an awkward silence for the next five minutes before we got to the courthouse and Brendon parked his car in one of the few empty spots. "Are you coming in with me?" He asked, grabbing a file folder out of the glove box in front of me. He was awfully close, and it made my breath hitch in my throat.

"Uhhh," I stuttered. "Uh, if you, I mean, sure if that's okay. Am I even allowed? I'm not really dressed properly . . ." Brendon looked me over quickly, meeting my eye again with a smirk.

"You look fine," he sat back in his chair and looked at me sideways, a lopsided smile still plastered on his face. "C'mon." He bobbed his head in the direction of the building and got out of the car. I wasn't sure if he was going to wait for me or not, so I stayed frozen in place. There was no way I was going in if I didn't have to.

Apparently Brendon could sense that I wasn't getting out, because the passenger door swung open a few seconds later. I felt his grip on my forearm, gentle but firm, as he pulled me out of the car. With one swift motion, I was standing in the parking lot with Brendon, the car door already closed. "Alright, I guess I don't really have a choice then." I laughed, following him into the government building.

About twenty minutes later we finally reached a clerk, and Brendon smiled at the lady behind the counter. "Hi, I have signed divorce papers." She took the papers from him and looked through them absently, circling and stamping things as she went.

"Alright, I'll get these filed and your divorce will be officially finalized in two to three weeks." Her gaze drifted from Brendon to me, and she gave me a sympathetic smile. "You two are so young, are you sure you want to do this?"

Brendon looked at me and we both burst into laughter. "She's not my wife," he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "And yes, I'm sure. It's not really up to me, and if it were . . . Well, she's not happy right now, and that's all I want for her; to be happy." I bit my lip, trying to decide whether I should comfort him then, or wait until we got to the car. I reached out an arm and touched his shoulder gently, deciding that he needed a friend. I didn't want the lady behind the desk to get the wrong idea, but it wasn't really her business.

"Well then, you're all set. Have a good day, Mr. Urie." The lady said after a brief pause. As we walked away, she called, "Next please!" And I looked at Brendon softly.

"Are you sure you're okay with me writing this article, Bren?" It was the first time I had called him anything other than Brendon, and I could see his face brighten slightly as I did. Maybe we were starting to become friends . . .

"I can't change it, I might as well accept it." He said, holding the door open for me. "Forward and onward, as they say."