ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪғᴛᴇᴇɴ: ɪ'ᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ

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I leaned against the wall, one hand stuffed in the front pocket of my jeans and the other absentmindedly combing through my hair. My mind was reeling – thoughts travelling at a million miles per hour. And across from me – the reason for it all.

She stood with her back against the metal railing of the balcony, arms folded across her chest defensively as her foot tapped against the tiled floor.

This had been the case for the last five minutes, during which neither of us uttered a single word to one another, despite the fact that wanting to talk was the reason we were both standing in each other's company in the first place.

It was clear she was agitated, fed up that I'd asked for this and yet hadn't said anything. In my defense, I was trying – I really was – but I couldn't get the fucking words out.

This is why I never do shit like this.

"You know," she sucked on her teeth, taking the initiative and breaking the silence, "usually when someone says 'I need to talk to you', they actually talk to you."

The muscles in my jaw tensed up as I gave a small, barely noticable nod in agreement. Yet, it still took a minute before I garnered up the courage to speak.

"What I did... pretending to die, disappearing for a year...it was stupid. It was stupid, it was irrational and I-" I started out in my usual tone, strong and confident and controlled andBrendon Urie, but much to my fucking displeasure, all of that faltered towards the end, and for the first time in a long time, I felt my resolve crack, "I never should have done it."

As the words flowed, so the gravity of what I had done sunk in, and I bore a hole in the floor with my gaze. I couldn't bear to look at her; I was disgusted with myself. With what I had done.

"I never should have done it," I repeated, more to myself than to her, "I never should have left you. Not like that."

"But you did," she whispered, averting her gaze downwards as well. Those three words relayed so much sadness, and I resisted the urge to punch myself in the face for making her feel like that.

"You did. And I just-" she breathed out, continuing, "I just want to know why. What was so important that you had to do what you did in order to deal with it? 'Cause ever since you came back, that's the question that's been burning at the back of my mind and for the life of me, I cannot figure out the answer."

Oh, lord. Here we go. Here we fucking go. I had to tell her. I have to tell her, right?

Yes.

Just, maybe...

Not everything.

"I went looking for my brother."

There was dead silence for a minute as she processed the news. Her face showed how she was struggling to comprehend the fact that I had a sibling – frowns, wide-eyes, twitching lips.

"Brother?" she furrowed her brows, her head moving forward slightly, "I didn't know you had a brother."

"Yeah, well," I huffed, again running my fingers through my hair, "He's not someone I'm exactly proud to be associated with."

Especially since he killed the two people who meant the most to you.

"So why risk everything to go looking for him?" she pressed, failing to understand my logic or reasoning.

Pushing myself off of the wall, I stepped closer. "I needed answers," I explained, looking her dead in the eyes, making sure that she'd believe me, "About my family, my father... myself... and he was the only one who could give them to me."

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