"Thanks, Gerard," The girl whose name I still hadn't figured out said to the driver, giving him a kiss on the cheek before following me out of the vehicle. She closed the door behind her and the car sped away just as quickly as it arrived at the bar I could honestly call my second home. However, this place, this place was my real home.
Sure, it wasn't the greatest of places. It was a small home in the middle of a neighborhood that new couples seeking a place to grow typically skim over. The houses were older, windows were shattered or boarded up, and the yards weren't taken care of as often as they should've been. Cars were parked in front of the houses, some unlocked and some packed with so much shit you couldn't see out of any window but the driver's. Did I imagine this was the kind of place I'd be living in? Of course not. But it was all we could afford.
About six years ago, my friends and I set out on a little endeavor where we tried to make it as a band. We thought of ourselves pretty highly, finding our musical style different than the rest and believing that that was what would get us famous. However, it only proved to humiliate us, get us laughed at, and pushed away from the scene as far as we could go.
With all of our money put into what turned out to be a flop, we only had our families to turn back to, and with me, that wasn't possible. My family kicked me out, and Spencer - my best friend - his family could only harbor me for so long. They loved me like their own son, but they couldn't afford having me around. So Spencer and I left and found our own place in this shitty little neighborhood.
We made the best out of it, we really did. We painted the dirty walls, picked up the furniture that we'd find on the curbs and deemed good enough to bring home, and did our best to make the most out of the situation we'd been thrown into. It wasn't that hard because I had my best friend by my side, in fact, I actually kind of liked it.
But then it happened.
Spencer and I were out in our front yard, lounging on our "borrowed" lawn chairs when a fight broke out a few houses down. It was a nice day and all of the neighbors were outside, doing god knows what. Either way, it attracted everyone's attention.
"I wonder what's going on," Spencer commented, setting down his bottle of beer that was drenched in condensation on the small table in between the chairs.
"Spencer, wait," I called out, stopping him before he could be drawn into the madness that was already bringing in other neighbors, only making the situation worse, "Stay out of it. It's not our fight to fight."
"Yeah, but Brendon, that's Linda's house down there. I-I need to see if she's okay."
Linda, the girl who stole Spencer's heart in the record time of a split second. She greeted us into the neighborhood when we moved there, bringing over a plate of homemade cookies (which she would later admit were prepackaged ones she just put in the oven) and a bottle of champagne. All it took was for Spencer to open the door for him to fall head over heels for her.
The two of them were crazy about each other; it was evident in the way they looked at each other, the way they had a hard time leaving each other's side. There were countless nights Linda would spend with us, spend with him, nights I wouldn't get any sleep during because they were in the room next to mine. They really loved each other. If I didn't believe in true love before, I sure as hell did when I looked at the two of them.
However, there was a problem.
That problem?
Linda's boyfriend.
Looking at him, you wouldn't suspect him to be the possessive type, the kind of guy who gave her everything she ever wanted and needed and then used it against her whenever she "stepped out of line." But he was. The thick-rimmed glasses he wore, the smile that always appeared on his face whenever someone looked his way, the polo shirts, golf shorts, and loafers he adorned himself with, they didn't mean shit. They were all a facade. That guy would kill you if you messed with him or his girlfriend. And that's what he did to Spencer.
I never knew whether or not Spencer would've survived if I let him go, instead of keeping him with me, because he died in our yard. A gun shot rang out through the air, startling the entire neighborhood, and the next I knew, Spencer looked down and saw a red dot growing on his chest.
I also never knew whether or not Linda's boyfriend meant to kill him, because after Spencer was taken away, I asked Linda (who followed the ambulance down to our house and stood by my side as we watched it drive away) what the fight was about. She told me it was something stupid like she didn't fold the clothes right. At the time, I believed her and didn't question her any further. Was that was the fight really about? Was it really about clothes or was it about Spencer? I don't know, and I don't think I ever will.
All I know is that I lost my best friend that day, and ever since, this house held a different meaning for me. It used to be a place I enjoyed coming back to, a place I could call my own. But now? It was just a painful memory of what was, what used to be. I didn't like coming back to it, and I didn't like the silence that hung in the air.
"Cute place," The girl beside me commented, bringing me back to reality like she always seemed to do.
I brought my hand up and rubbed the back of my neck nervously, looking at the house and swallowing the lump that formed in my throat. "Th-Thanks."
YOU ARE READING
Drive (Brendon Urie/P!ATD FanFic ft. Green Day)
Fanfiction==DISCONTINUED== Brendon never expected to be in the situation he was in. He never expected that his life would be at risk like it was now, and that he'd been willing to lose it in order to spare hers, the person responsible for all of this. With h...
