Brendon Urie Imagines

Backstage

A/N: the picture above is the one you brought with you for him to sign.

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You just finished enjoying your first Panic! concert and couldn't be more stoked. You stand in line to meet Brendon, unable to see him through the thrilled fans. You have a plan of what you're going to say, and rehearse the makeshift conversation in your head. This means the world to you; it might even be the best day of your life. Sure, you're "Just another fan" to him; but he is your everything. You calm your nerves by biting on the edge of your laminated 'backstage pass', counting down the places to him.

12 people, I can't believe I'm really here, you think.

8 people, you still can't see him even when standing on your tip-toes. You're too short through all the girls in heels. Please don't trip, you klutz.
Your stomach twists then fills with violent butterflies.

6, the girl in front of you pushes her boobs up and you cringe: he's married, you slut, calm down.

4, your heart pounds and you hope the people around you can't hear it.
"Oh my god, don't forget what you're going to say." You say out loud and quickly cover your mouth as you look to see who heard. You start to mumble your lines again but stop as the table becomes closer.

3 people, your throat tightens up.
He's right there. You saw his greasy hair and a flash of his smile.
Be cool, be cool, you think to yourself, however, the burning behind your eyes and the churning of your stomach argues with you otherwise. You start to feel sick as your heart knocks against your chest.

2, a tear pushes out of one of your burning eyes and you wipe it away quickly so he doesn't see. You make eye-contact with him as he looks behind his present fan and you almost gasp. You adjust your grip on your picture with sweaty hands, hoping it will somehow loosen the knot in your throat. Two tears push out, this time, you don't wipe them away; for the girl in front of you ends with, "I love you!" and walks away screeching.

You stand looking slightly down at Brendon's gorgeous smiling face. Your heart almost beats out of your chest. You get stuck on the lump in your throat and make an inhumane noise. You pull your hands up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. His wonderful smile fades to one of pity and he sweetly smirks, thinking you will break out of it. But you know otherwise; your stomach leaps. Hot tears roll down your face as you bury your face in your hands.

You choke out a sob and hear him stand from the table, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. This makes you sob harder, for you can't be present in the moment that is supposed to be the best of your young life. Two strong hands grab your shoulders and start to guide you away firmly. You throw your arms down and cry an inaudible sound, intending to be, "No Brendon!" You see a blurry, panicked Brendon insist, "Wait! It's okay." His eyebrows pull in empathetically and he says to the big man, you assume is Zach, "I got her." Your jaw drops slightly as he reaches a blurred hand to you. You sniffle and your eyes open wide in disbelief as your small hand falls into his. A few girls gasp at this as you walk to the left of the table, down the opposite way you came. You hear a cry behind you, "That's not fair!" and, "Brendon come back!"
Zach silences them with, "He'll be back momentarily, just please stay in line."

You are hardly aware that you are walking down a white hallway, hand in hand with Brendon Urie. He opens a door to your right, which has a comfortable-looking creme couch, a table, a recliner, and a counter with coffee and water. You inhale quick gasps, exhaling shaky ones, trying to recover from your breakdown. He guides you to the bleary couch, his hand between your shoulder blades.

You sit down and hunch over, still sobbing in the presence of Brendon, who sits right next to you. "Hey, hey, it's okay," his voice is like dense honey, almost untouched by the 2 hours of yelling he just did. You sit up and exhale rapid, shaky breaths, your eyes closed. This isn't happening, you think, I passed out and I'm dreaming.
"What's your name? It's okay, deep breaths, easy," he says in a soothing voice, trying to calm you.
You try to choke out your name to the hallucination of Brendon, deciding to play along with the dream, but only a squeak emerges. This makes another tear push out and you freeze, suddenly dumbfounded.
"You know what? It's okay." He takes your hand and strokes the inside of your palm lightly, "Let's focus on breathing. In," he pauses, "Out... in... out..."
You fall in time with his words and finally look up to his face. His deep brown eyes catch you off guard, and you almost drown in them. His hair is slightly tussled, almost intentional; just the way you like it. You look intently at his face and he smiles in understanding. You realize you are staring and shoot your eyes down to your hand, where his thumb traces your palm.

You sniffle and he places your hand down as he walks over to the counter. He pours some water into a styrofoam cup and walks back to you, handing you the water and sitting down. "Drink this, it might help douse the huge-ass headache you'll get soon." You take a sip of your water and start to say something, but quickly stop. What is there to say?
"I've had girls break down before," he shakes his head, "But not like that."
The backs of your eyes start to burn again.
"But I've never felt the urge to calm them down like I did with you. But you're better now, yeah?"
You giggle with a nod, and take a sip of water.
"What's the picture you had?"
You remember it next to you, a handsome picture of him. It's not from a specific photo shoot, but one you happened to screenshot and print out on special paper. You pull it out and place it on the table in front of you. He cocks his head at it and pulls a sharpie out of his pocket. He taps the sharpie against his chin for a moment, his lips pursed, and writes something. You can't see what it is until he finishes. He pulls his hands away and it says,
"You look beautiful even when you're crying, honey. ❤️ Brendon Urie"

You gasp and look at him, he grins and moves a piece of hair out of your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, "You do," he implies, as butterflies form inside you. You close your eyes and try not to grin like an idiot; it doesn't work. You sit in silence for a moment until you work up to courage to try and speak again.

"Thank you for this." You pause, almost choking, gesturing to the cup and picture. He nods slowly. You try to find the wording, "And everything you do... Breadbin," You both chuckle, "You are astounding... You have changed my life... And I can't thank you enough, I love you so so much."

A lump forms in your throat again and you look down at your shaking hands as, yet another tear pushes out. He wipes it away gently with the knuckle of his forefinger. You purse your lips, not daring to look up, afraid you'll ruin the moment. Suddenly, you feel a short breath at the top of your head as he plants a light kiss on your forehead. Heat rushes to your cheeks and hands, and your shoulders shrink in shyly, unable to hide your star-struck. He laughs lightly at your reaction and stands up leisurely. You realize it is time to go. He has more important things to attend to, you hate to admit. You stand up also, clutching your water and picture, looking up to him innocently. He puts his hand in between your shoulder blades to guide you and it sends a shiver down your spine. You walk out of the room backstage with him, feeling the ghost of his lips on your forehead, having had the best moment of your life.

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I hope you enjoyed and I hope you didn't cry as much as I did while writing this. I know it's a little long for an imagine, but I wanted to incorporate a lot, (as you read.)

If you're reading this, you are probably a visitor to this book, don't stop now! There are a lot more imagines down the road so indulge and enjoy.
Thanks for reading 💕
-ronni