This Impossible Year [Brendon Urie Fanfic] <COMPLETED>

Why Would One Speak When They Could Sing?

(Brendon's Point of View)

The girl acted barely human. She didn't eat, and she barely ever stood on her feet. I knew it was just my imagination, but she never seemed to avert her eyes from me. Well, aside from when she slept. Sarah didn't like that I let the girl tag along. Sarah said that her parents must be worried sick.
"I know," I said, "but don't you think that, based off of her appearance, that she has been long gone?" Sarah nodded and sat back against the couch. She sighed and shook her head.
"Fine." Sarah looked at me with her arms crossed. "She can come, but that doesn't mean I like it." With that, we were off to the next stop on the tour.
The girl seemed to relax whenever I sang. She would close her eyes and sway to the music of Impossible Year. It seemed to be her favorite. After a few days, she started to talk. It was just a simple, "No," at first, but she progressed quickly to full sentences. Before I knew it, she had picked up on the lyrics to my songs and had started to sing along. She had an astonishing voice.
"There's no sunshine, this impossible year." I walked into my room to see the girl tracing the pattern on the bad sheets, her voice low as she sang. When I entered the doorway, her head snapped up and her mouth shut. She sat up straight and stared at me.
"No, please go on." I leaned against the doorframe and continued the song. "Only black days and sky grey." The girl blushed and joined in.
"And clouds full of fear. And storms full of sorrow that won't disappear." I stopped and listened to her melodious voice carry the tune. "Just typhoons and monsoons, this impossible year." She held the last note with such perfection that a chill ran up my spine. I smiled at the girl, encouraging her to continue.
"Cecily," she blurted out. I stood straight and looked at her. Her grey T-shirt sported the name of my band, and Sarah had gotten her some bejeweled jeans.
"What?" I stuck my hands in my pockets and then pulled them out again.
"Cecily," she repeated. "My name is Cecily Jackson." She got off the bed and stood in her feet. She didn't seem unsure of whether her feet would carry her anymore. She must have been practicing. I stared for a couple more minutes, then shook my head in disbelief.
"Well then, Miss Jackson," I said, laughing, "How would you like to perform with me?"

•••

(Cecily's Point of View)

He was such a kind man, and I loved everything about him. His voice was exactly what I needed to regain my strength. I had never heard of this band about Anxiety at a Party, but I decided I liked it. At first I didn't understand why people screamed when they saw him. I didn't think he was frightening. I figured it was just some new form of greeting one another.
Sarah was kind, but I could tell she wasn't fond of me. I sat with her while Brendon was on the special platform with the flashing lights. She rarely spoke to me. I knew she would be hard to surpass, but I had my ways. Brendon was going to be mine, whether Sarah wanted it or not.
   When Brendon told me to sing with him, I couldn't agree fast enough. He was extremely talented. He had Sarah take me to something they called a Mall. The Mall was a giant building full of clothes that people exchanged for green rectangles.
   Sarah took me into this place and into a place filled with shiny clothes. They looked a lot like the shiny clothes that Brendon wore on the big platform. Sarah gave me a sideways glance while she fingered a gold dress. She pulled the dress off the hanger and held it in front of me. I gingerly took it from her and stared down at the mesmerizing fabric. My blonde hair fell over my face, blocking my view of Sarah.
   "Try it on," Sarah urged. She led me to a smaller room where she pulled a curtain closed. In the room, there was a small bench, a few hooks on the walls, and a mirror. It would have startled me greatly, had I not been introduced to it the day before by Brendon. I still wasn't used to seeing myself.
   I looked healthier than I had the day before. My arms and legs were beginning to fill out again. I smiled at my reflection and started humming the tune to Impossible Year.
   After changing into the sleeveless dress, I spun a couple times, admiring the glow of the fabric. The top was a tight, black fabric, seemingly adjusting to my bust to sit perfectly without straps. The skirt reached just above my knees, and was a light gold. I loved the way it swished as I moved. After a couple more turns, I changed back into my Anxiety, no, Panic! at the Disco T-shirt and jeans. Sarah traded some green rectangles for the dress, then we returned to the van that we had been in for the past two weeks.
   The excitement in the van was rising again, as it had several nights over the last couple weeks. I couldn't help but join in the excitement. There was a lot of fussing over Brendon, and that was routine for the excitement. However, that night, there were people fussing over me, too. They teased my hair into a braided up-do, and powdered my face until I coughed. Colors were applied to my face and my dress was adorned with jewels from the waist up. Shiny metal ringlets were pushed onto my arm, and a golden chain was hung from my neck. A set of hands turned me to a mirror at which I gasped. I could not believe my eyes. For the first time in my life, I felt beautiful.
   I turned to see Brendon step into the room, and everyone else cleared out. His hair had been fluffed to its full potential, and his golden suit was the image of perfection. He grinned at me.
   "Well hello, Miss Jackson," Brendon practically sang. "Are you ready to go meet the crowd?" I nodded eagerly. I couldn't wait for the lights, the noise, and the excitement. But, most of all, I couldn't wait for the singing. As I was led out onto the platform that Brendon called a stage, I almost felt sorry. Time seemed to slow. The crowd cheered as Brendon introduced me, and I waved shyly at the yelling people. I watched Brendon thank all the people for coming, and I felt like maybe my intentions were wrong. Maybe, just maybe, Brendon wasn't meant to be the one I took. But if he wasn't, then why was I trained in my early years to seek out and take him?