Catfish // Brendon Urie x Reader

21

(Y/n)

Brendon had asked for us to meet once more, this time promising to not make me stay if I had decided to leave. It seemed like a fair deal, seeing how I had nothing to lose at this point. Frank had headed to the studio and I was left alone as usual, leaving me to go wherever I pleased. I dressed fairly nice today for the meeting. It wasn't like I was trying to impress the man that has been catfishing me, but I wanted to seem like even though I was stupid enough to fall for his stupid act, I was still a gorgeous and strong woman.

I looked more like a sad blogger but that's fine.

I walked to the same cafe that we had planned to meet at before and had that terrible encounter. I thought of Owen. Then I thought of Brendon. They were two completely different people, and it broke my heart to think that someone could be so selfish to do this to someone. He gave all this excuses in attempt to justify that act, but it was all simply in vain. He nevertheless broke my heart a little.

Just a little.

I sat down near the door, ordering a small vanilla latte. Genuinely, I didn't really want coffee. I didn't even like coffee that much, but I dared not to sit there alone on my phone. That was probably the most embarrassing thing to do at a coffee shop, sit on your phone. Either A, you're hoping for someone to feel bad and sit with you, or B, you're waiting for someone to meet up with you. On top of that, no one ever meets someone they're already dating in a cafe.

I felt a soft tap on my shoulder and I had looked over, seeing a soft pair of brown eyes staring at me. Brendon smiled softly before he had sat down in front of me, his smile absolutely not fading. "Hey." He had said brightly, placing his hands in front of him before lacing them together. He seemed a lot more cheerful than before, and it had barely made me feel better. It almost seemed like he hadn't cared at all about what he had done, and I had been expecting at least a small bit of guilt on his face.

"You look nice." He had said, a tone of sincerity in his voice. I had looked myself over before shrugging and mumbling a thanks. He had nodded. I had looked at his arms resting on the table, looking at every single tattoo that lined his arm. He had been wearing a T-shirt which openly showed all his marks. I had noticed one in particular of a familiar singer.

"Frank Sinatra?" I had asked.

Brendon's grin had grown.