I Won't Give Up Without A Fight // Brendon Urie

The Only Thing That Makes Me Feel As Good As You Do

*Brendon's POV*

We went to the club together. The club we were at lets you in if you're 16 and up but they give you a small mark on your hand if you're under 21. The mark came off with just a quick wipe of hand sanitizer so it was useless. The owners knew about it too. No 21 years olds wanted to go to a club where there were high schoolers making the younger kids were the only source of income so the owners let it slip.

I instantly went over to the bathroom and washed off the mark on my hand. The girl with me did the same. Once my mark was successfully off, I went to get us some drinks.

Just as I predicted, the bar tender looked me up and down, checked my hand, and poured me a drink anyway.

I made my way over to where she was standing.

"Here you go, uh, I haven't learned your name yet..." I said.

"Kendall Jackson," she replied and grabbed the drink from my hand. She took a long swig of it and then looked at me. "What are you waiting for, let's dance!" With that she grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

"Anything you say, Miss Jackson." I downed what was last of my drink and followed her.

I would be lying if I said she was a bad dancer. Some of the things she could do seemed downright impossible. It felt incredible.

People around us were in their own worlds. Everyone was pushed together because of the small space but for some reason no one seemed to mind even though it made it 10 times hotter and everyone was sweaty.

As the alcohol started to take over my mind and my body and she started to sway more than before, she stopped grinding on me and turned around, still making sure that her body was pressed to mine.

"C'mon, lets go somewhere more private," she said to me and I could smell the alcohol on her breath.

Usually, my first reaction is 'yes'. But for some reason, a voice I didn't recognize in the back of my head screamed 'no!'. It took me off guard. Usually I could do this stuff, or well, I guess her, without any regrets. Why was I feeling guilty now?

I was too drunk by this time to think any harder so of course the intelligent thoughts were defeated by my man instincts.

I pressed my lips against hers and it all felt the same. Every girl I kissed felt the same. It felt like it was just something I had to do, like if I took a girl out, I was required to do the thing where you put your lips on the girls lips and pretend that you liked it. I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to kissing than that.

I mean don't get me wrong, kissing is great and all, especially if they know how to do it well, but it was deep in my heart where if felt different. It lacked emotion.

The kiss was sloppy because we were both intoxicated. I steadied her and grabbed her hand.

When we made it outside, we flagged down a cab.

"Your place?" I slurred and she nodded as we stepped into the cab.

She barked out her address to the driver but my mind was to hazy to register what she said. I guess I'd have to figure out my way home in the morning. Oh well, not like I hadn't done it before.

It didn't take long before she wasn't in the seat next to me anymore and instead she was on my lap, making out with me. She was talented, I'll give her that. Or maybe, experienced. That was a better word for it.

'Gross' I thought to myself but then I remembered. 'Oh yeah, I'm a man whore too' and I continued on.

We somehow made it to the elevator and into her room without breaking contact. I vaguely remember the lady at the front desk telling us to get a room and me saying that we were trying to and flipping her off.

The last thing I remember was her ripping off my shirt and pushing me into her bed.

The next morning when I woke up, I didn't recognize where I was. I rubbed my eyes and looked next to me. The queen bed was empty except for me. There where sheets all over the floor and the room was a mess. What happened?

I got up and realized I was only in my underwear. I scanned the room to find my pants. After a few minutes of searching I was successful but I couldn't find my shirt. I slipped my pants on and walked out the bedroom door.

Much to my surprise, Kendall was wearing my t-shirt from last night and making breakfast. Usually after a one night stand the girl disappears or I disappear and that's that. I've never had a girl make me breakfast after.

"Uh, hey," I said.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. Want some breakfast?"

I was confused. "Uh, what exactly did you think this was?" I asked.

She stopped cooking and turned around. "Honestly, I was going to just spend the night with you and then end it but when I woke up this morning, I didn't want you to leave. That was the best night I've had in a while."

I leaned on the counter to try and stabilize myself. "Kendall, I barely remember last night. We were drunk and stupid. I barely even know you."

She walked over to me and placed her hands on my chest. "Why can't we get to know each other then? You can't tell me that you don't enjoy this..." and she placed her lips on mine.

I'll admit, this kiss I felt. There was more feeling behind it that the night before. I still wasn't convinced, I never stuck around with a girl for very long. Why would she be different?

I broke the kiss and stepped back. "Kendall..."

She looked up at me. "I'll give you some time to think. Here's my number," she said writing on a sticky note. "Call me if you change your mind."

I took the note from her and put it in my jeans pocket. I was halfway out the door when I realized that she still had my shirt.

"Uh, I need my shirt." I stuttered.

She smirked and slowly pulled the shirt over her head, revealing her lacy undergarments. She tossed it at me while I stared.

Before I knew it she closed the door in my face leaving me to think about seeing her again.

I stepped out on to the sidewalk and looked around. I recognized the street name and noted that I was only a few blocks away from my apartment. It was within walking distance.

I opened up my door and walked inside to see Ryan I my apartment.

"Ryan? What are you doing at my house?" I asked.

Before he could answer, the bathroom door opened.

Laken.