Little Deaths In Musical Beds (Brendon Urie)

Chapter Six: You Are Taking Me Apart Like Bad Glue

Halloween had surely been a night of tricks and treats, only the treat part wasn't candy, it was lips, tongues, fingers, bodies, moans...and the consequences not a stomach ache but a heart ache, one that made the whole body throb. The next morning neither Brendon nor Aveline said a word to each other. She just drove him home, they said a casual goodbye and that was that. Aveline had wanted to talk to him, to tell him thank you for sharing something so intimate with her, to tell him it meant more than anything he had ever done for her. For some reason, she couldn't. Her lips were sealed together by super glue that did not exist. Her mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions, and she genuinely had no idea what she could say. So, she stayed quiet while she watched him walk across the street, looking back at her once, then across his lawn and to his back door.

The worst part about the situation they were dealing with was that they weren't dealing with it at all. It was the day before Thanksgiving and neither of them had brought it up, although Aveline was sure Brendon had tried to a few times. The nearly month since Halloween had kept both of them busy with their schedules and separate lives. They had spent time together but not as much as they had before, until the holiday where people were to be thankful for one another shoved them together whether they wanted to be or not.

As tradition had gone in the past, Aveline and her sister, Ella, always spent Thanksgiving with the Uries. Having lost their parents at a young age it was only the two of them, and holidays became rather lonely. Brendon's mother finally put her foot down years ago and had insisted that the both of them spend the holidays with them, which neither of them argued about. Brendon's family was great. Full of love, laughter, singing, cheer, and yes, fights, but in the end people kissed and made up. It was just one of those houses you wanted to be in around the holidays, one you needed to be in, especially in their situation.

Aveline walked into Brendon's room and laid her backpack, with a change of clothes and pajamas in it, on the floor next to the door. Brendon looked up from his notebook and smiled.

"Hey," he tapped his pencil on the pad in front of him.

"Hey," she leaned against the door jam with her arms folded, a small smile on her face.

Brendon rolled over so that he was on his side, his elbow rested on the bed and he put his head on the palm of his turned up hand, "You gonna come in or are you just gonna stand there?" he smirked.

"Shut up," she joked laughing at him, "Everyone is getting ready to play football," she told him, "you coming or are you afraid I'll kick your ass like last year?"

Brendon bolted up from his spot on the bed, "Pshh," he teased her playfully, "Yeah right."

She raised her eyebrows, "Okay then, show me what you've got big boy," she headed for the stairs but as she reached the top Brendon was already in front of her. Half way down the staircase he stopped and turned to look at her.

"And I think I already have," he smirked.

She huffed. He had done that on purpose to get at her. It had been like this since it happened. She couldn't really blame him though; he was doing the best he could.

When she walked outside the Nevada sun was warm, the perfect day for a game of backyard football. Everyone was huddled around Brendon's father. She put her hand above her eyes in an effort to shield it's light as she listened to what he was saying.

"Rules are the same as always," he began, "fellas," he said, "you can tackle until your heart is content, but," he continued, "if I see you tackling any one of these here ladies. I'm gonna be on your ass like bees on honey," he pointed the football at each one of his sons, "Got it?"