hømetøwn

• : / fourteen / : •

His voice was a monster that crawled under my skin and made a home there.

People, Lake.

People.

Brendon's hand was on my shoulder and my phone was on the ground and I was bent over with my hands on my knees, gasping for breath, because surely he was bluffing. Connor was weird. He could be a jerk. But he was no murderer.

People, Lake.

"Are you okay?" said Brendon.

People.

"I..." The breath stung in my lungs.

"Lake." He gave my shoulder a warm squeeze. His voice was soft, but there was a darkness buried inside it, a deadly protectiveness that made me want to never leave his side. "What did he want?"

"It doesn't make any sense," I said. "He's got to be joking."

But Connor didn't sound like he was joking. He sounded like he was ready to burn the world down. He sounded like he had a box of matches in one hand and a carving knife in the other.

"What did he say?" Brendon asked again.

I shook my head, pressing my lips together. "He...he said that for every day I don't come home, he's going to burn something I left behind."

"What? Like, your stuff?"

"Yeah. And..."

"Oh my God, what a douche. I swear, if I ever meet this guy I'm going to rip him limb from --"

"That's not all though," I said.

He looked at me. "What?"

"He said he's not just going to burn objects that I've left behind. He's...he's going to burn people."

There was a long moment of silence. Brendon's eyes raced with thought.

"So, like...insult their music taste or something?" he said. "Or their haircut? Like, 'damn, those shoes, with that top? No, girl. You look like a disaster. BURN.' Is that what we're talking about here? Or are we talking about some horror movie serial killer shit?"

"I don't know," I said. "Hopefully the first one."

He smiled a little. "Okay, but really. Should we tell someone? Or is he probably just messing with you?"

I took a deep breath, thinking about the Connor I knew. Him pretending to like the same music as I did to get close to me. Driving me to a concert then using that as an excuse to try to get me to hook up with him. The word bitch glowing off my cellphone. The smell of alcohol, always lingering at the edge of his lips. And that stormy look in his eyes when he looked at me, like a tornado was brewing beneath the surface. Like he was a natural disaster just waiting to happen.

"Probably just messing with me," I said.

"Okay." He slid his hand into mine. "But if it comes to it, just know I'm more than willing to beat the living holy hell out of him."

"Oh yeah, you'll just sing him to death."

"Pete did say my vocals were deadly."

"God. The fact that you get to talk to Pete Wentz on a regular basis makes me want to rip my own skin off."

"You'll get to talk to him soon, if you want," said Brendon. We stopped at his apartment building. He fiddled with his key.

Heat rushed up my face. "Are you serious?"

"Very serious."

Before I could think about what I was doing, I grabbed his shoulder, whirled him around to face me, and kissed him. His eyebrows shot up but he kissed me back. I could feel his lips smiling against mine.