The cold morning air swept across the quiet town. The sun was still rising, sending an orange color to ripple throughout the now lightening sky. The stars from the previous night began to fade, disappearing as if they had never been there in the first place.
The town was small, maybe, at most, 600 people lived there. Everyone knew everyone and everything about them. The town had gatherings every Sunday after church got out at the local park for barbeques. If it was raining or cold, mostly everyone would head to the only diner in town for brunch.
There weren't many things to do in this town, there was one park, one theater, one diner, an arcade, an elementary school, a middle school, a high school, two doctors offices, one hospital, one furniture store, town hall, one jail, one liquor store, and a bookstore.
The town also had a curfew, anyone under the age of twelve must be home by 10 p.m, anyone under the age of 18 must be home by 11 p.m, and anyone else must be home by 12 a.m.
The town had one of the lowest crime rates, very few people died in the town and when they did it was usually a virus or old age, only two people had ever been murdered in the town.
Those two people happened to have a son who lived, he owned the bookstore. His name is Dallon Weekes.
Dallon is the most secretive of the people in the town, he doesn't talk much let alone have any friends. He was only 8 when his parents had died, luckily his neighbors took him in.
Dallon spent most of his times with his nose in a book, he had read every book in his library at least three times, four if he really liked it.
He didn't have any employees at the bookstore as he ran it by himself. Most of the people in the town worked at the hospital.
Today, Dallon was sitting in the bookstore at 5 a.m as he always did. He was always the first in the town to awake and the last to sleep. He had a cup of coffee in his hand as he watched the lights from the houses start to turn on.
"Another day," He sighed to nobody but himself. It would be an understatement to call the town boring, not only were there very little things to do, but the people were all the same. They all got up at 5, they all went to church, they all wore similar outfits, they all were boring.
Dallon had always wanted to leave the town but he couldn't. His mother's last wish was for him to run the bookstore, and that's what he would do.
Although Dallon found everyone boring, he did the same. He knew if he was different the bookstore would fail, he also didn't know who he was.
He knew he was different but he didn't know what different was. He knew he didn't enjoy the movies everyone else liked, but what other movies were there? He knew he didn't like classical music, but what other music was there? He had never experienced anything other than what was fed to him by the town.
He sighed, he stood up and watched as people began stepping out of their houses, walking to work or driving their cars. He watched as little children and teenagers began to walk to school in their uniforms.
Everything was normal...until...
Everyone in the town stopped, they had all heard the noise. They looked to the streets and in seconds a motorcycle sped down the street, breaking the normalness of the town.
The motorcycle then pulled over, everyone's eyes were glued and their mouths hung ajar.
A man in all leather pulled off his helmet, his wild black hair falling loose as he ran a tattooed hand through it.
He looked around and smiled before walking off into the house that had recently been bought.
Before the man went inside he looked to the bookstore and caught Dallon's eyes.
He smiled at him, a blush crept up Dallon's face before he turned away and walked away from the window.
Brendon Urie had just arrived.
A/N: Told ya I'd have a new one-shot up soon...but! This is the first chapter of the new Brallon book! If you're interested, I'll put up a notice so that you can read it and if you don't like it, don't worry I'll be posting other one-shots soon. Love you all <333
-Sammy
