Brendon Urie Imagines [✔️]

#25: Your Everyday Demon (requested)

this imagine was requested by @Misskylieurie

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*brendon's pov*

I walked around the city, not knowing where the fuck I was going. There's no place for someone like me to go. No one likes demons. Literally, no one. I always keep my hood up to hide my horns and I always keep my eyes glued to the ground so no one notices how my eyes are completely black. Being a demon fucking sucks. Then someone bumps right into me. It was most likely my fault for starring at the ground though.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," we both rush out at the same time. Funny,

"I'm sorry. It was totally my fault," I sincerely apologize, slightly looking up at the girl in front of me.

"Don't worry about it," she says.

      I look up from the ground at her a little more than I should. She looked like she just saw a demon. Oh wait. She just did.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I know I'm hideous and -"

"No. Y-you're really handsome," she cut in.

"That's funny."

"I'm serious," she states.

"Well, thank you then, uh," I say, not knowing her name.

"Kylie," she finishes my sentence.

"Oh. Thank you, Kylie," I thanked again.

"You're welcome," she smiled.

"I'm Brendon, by the way."

"Well, do you want to get coffee or something?" Kylie asks.

"Sure."

      We walk to a nearby cafe and we go inside. I asked Kylie if she could order for me to save some awkwardness with the cashier and she agreed. I sat down at a table and waited for her to come to the table with the coffees. A few minutes later, I see Kylie walking over with a coffee in each of her hands.

"Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome," she replies. "I have a question," she states before taking a sip of her coffee and I hum a quick "hmm".

"How come you have the gray skin, horns and black eyes? I'm sorry I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just curious," she asks.

"I don't mind you asking. I'm a demon. I know it sounds weird and out of the ordinary and it's really complicated to explain," I say.

"Oh."

"Most people avoid me because they're scared and because they think I'm a freak," I explain, looking down at my coffee.

"I don't think you're a freak," she admits. "I think you're cute."

"Thank you," I say.

We sat and talked for a while before Kylie had to leave. She quickly scribbled something down on a piece of paper she pulled out of her purse.

"Here's my number, call me sometime." She slid me the piece of paper.

I smiled and we both stood up and walked out of the cafe.