✓ ❘ 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ─ 𝐌𝐂𝐑. 𝐏!𝐀𝐓𝐃. 𝐅𝐎𝐁. 𝐓Ø𝐏.

Oh, Those Summer Nights. (Part 8) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Sharing pasta at the restaurant was not where your night with Brendon ended. After asking for the bill – which he insisted on paying – he asked if you wanted to go out for a drink. Your initial impulse was to decline his offer, but then he looked at you with those cursed puppy-eyes and you melted, giving in but vowing that you'd only be having one.

But then you got to the bar, and one drink turned into two, which turned into five, which developed into you becoming utterly sloshed. Naturally, you figured that right then would be the perfect time to start singing some karaoke, and so you swaggered over to the raised platform, dragging a much more sober Brendon along with you.

Once on-stage, the assistant handed the two of you a mic each and asked for your song choice. Gasping and wide-eyed, you turned to your ex and excitedly smacked your hand against his chest repeatedly.

"Oh, my god," you squealed, "Do you know which song we should do?"

"Which song?" he indulged, chuckling as he held onto your arm to steady you.

"'Summer Nights'! Ya know, from Grease!"

Grinning, he turned to the assistant. "You heard the lady. 'Summer Nights', it is."

~

"Tell me more, tell me more," you sang softly as you lazily danced along the hotel hallway. Brendon was trailing close behind you, watching in amusement but paying careful attention to be prepared to catch you in case you lost your balance.

It'd been a wonderful night; the two of you had a great time together – no strings attached – and Brendon was absolutely thrilled at the fact. He'd come here wanting to get closer to you and to regain your trust, and he felt as though tonight was a huge step in that direction.

You reached your hotel door and came to a halt in front of it. But instead of pulling out your room card and opening up, you turned to your mostly-sober counterpart.

"Brendon."

"(Y/N)."

You raised one finger and curled it, beckoning him towards you; he obliged, raising an eyebrow in intrigue and stepping forward. Once he was close enough, you hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

Turning your head, you rested it over his left pec, letting the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat relax you. "I had a nice time tonight."

"Me too," he hummed, resting his head atop yours and rubbing a hand up and down your back.

"It felt like we were back at the start."

He chuckled, sending vibrations through his chest. "It did, didn't it?"

"Bren?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?" you whispered.

"Of course, babe."

Slowly, you lifted your head to look up at him. Your eyes looked into his sparkly brown ones, and your heart rate picked up. Had you been sober, the next four words would've never come out of your mouth but unfortunately, you were on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, and so you could do nothing to stop the words from spilling out.

"I'm not over you."

Brendon struggled immensely to stop himself from jumping up and down and hollering in celebration, chomping down on his bottom lip and clenching his fists to restrict his movements.

Drawing in a shallow breath, he smiled a lopsided smile and brought both of his hands up to cup your face.

"Really?" he asked, wanting to make one hundred percent sure that you meant what you had just said; he smiled even wider when you shook your head vigorously.