L'Appel du Vide (Nocebo Effect P3)

I was gonna make a pun but instead I'll apologise

The majestic Brendon Urie has been incredibly elated since my arrival back into his life that he says would've been pathetic otherwise, and I really doubt that, but it's evident that he's been pretty shaken up by what monstrosities I inflicted upon myself when I was high on artificiality and teen angst and leaning over the edge of suicide to glimpse how beautiful the flowing waterfall looked to my mortal eyes who knew nothing then besides the prickling, stabbing sensation of wanting to die, of wanting to end it all, of wanting the dirt of my grave to infest my nails to prove that this is permanent and has already invaded who I am now.

My mental health is better and improving still, but Brendon doesn't seem to realize this, still acting as though I am a child who needs to be protected at all costs, despite the fact that I've assured him countless times that I'm absolutely fine, but he's somehow interpreted it like I'm upset with him, though I'm not, and he's now taking me out for coffee with one of his friends that I already know but my amnesic mind doesn't, and I can only predict a high level of awkwardness to come my way, because I should be friends with this guy, but I haven't the slightest clue about his character, and I frankly don't know where to begin.

So I'm just reclining stiffly in one of the metal chairs on the outside patio of La Mystique, which I can only guess was selected as our frequent hangout spot because it has a French name and I'm, well, French, and I can already assume that this Ryan Ross guy is deeply into irony and exploitation for the jubilant purpose of humor. My only reprieve from this anxiety was when the waiter visited us to collect our orders, at which point I expressed my thirst for a chamomile tea and hid my thirst to flee this tense location, but after that, Ryan's pragmatic game of staring at me continued like it had never been interrupted.

There's a certain intrigue to this stare, however, like he's not actually lost in his thoughts, rather endeavoring to decode what it is that I've done to resurrect myself, and I'll have to confess that I don't understand it either, that I don't even understand who I was before I attempted suicide, and I find that to be a neat comparison. You can never remember who you were as a child, because you've since been consumed by darkness manifested out of your own derangement, and if it is so, then Ryan will be unsuccessful at gathering what he thinks he deserves for all of this strife I've forced him into.

Brendon, on the contrary, is utterly indifferent, just pitying himself in the confines of his chair as he watches for something to dance in his mug stained by a latte like a typical white girl, but nothing does, so he's merely wading in fruitlessness as always, because the only thing he ever desired is back in his grasp, and he doesn't really know where to go from here, so he's just perusing the textures of his coffee like they amount to the glory of the drapes in a medieval castle.

Ryan compresses the bridge of his nose, stressed beyond belief. "Dallon, why the hell would you do this?"

Quite surprised, Brendon glances up from his staring contest against his coffee to instead observe my nervousness unfolding like the gestation of a dam's demise, partially sympathetic and partially wondering the same thing.

Of course Ryan would investigate something like this. Of course I can supply no veritable answer, because I really have no fucking idea what happened on the twenty-second of September when I overdosed on fragile pills yet expected myself to die. Of course he's still waiting for me to soothe his guilty conscience, so I prepare to baffle him with my improvised bullshit.

"Why did I do it, you ask? Because I was young and stupid, and yes, I'm only seventeen years old currently and was seventeen years old when I attempted suicide, but I was younger and stupider then than I am now. No one really escapes from being young and stupid, only gradually decreases their supply of the characteristics until only arrogance masks their presence."