Heart of Stone - final revised version :)

The Idea of You

"I don't know anything about you." I tell Brendon as we lie next to each other, observing the stars.

"You know I have a naked squirrel fetish." I hear the smile in his voice.

I shove his arm. "I'm serious. It's been four days and I don't even know your favorite color."

"Green." He locks eyes with me. "Like your eyes."

I quickly look away, my cheeks flushing. "Your eyes are a glorious poop-brown color, but I am sorry to inform you that that is not my favorite color."

He chuckles. "Darn. Then what is?"

I turn my head to meet his gaze. "Blue."

He hums. "Well I'm guessing you want to know a little bit more than my favorite color."

"Actually no, I've had enough History of Brendon Urie for today." I hold back a smile.

He grins back and continues anyway. "I was born on September 1, 1945 in lovely Glasgow, Kentucky. I have a sister named Jackie who's five years younger than me. We had a dog named Stan, who was actually a girl but two year old me didn't understand that, but she died when I was 16."

"I'm sorry." I blurt out. Why did I say that? It's a fucking dog. At least he still had his family.

"It's fine. She was really old. Anyway, I went to NYU to study photography because I was always really interested in it. I almost dropped out because I had a really shitty professor my sophomore year. Guess I wouldn't be here if I had." He smiles at me.

"Oh, I'm sure you would've found a way to get lost in the desert with me."

He smiles even more and continues. I like his smile. "My parents were supportive of whatever I did, which I'm endlessly thankful for. When I came out-"

"You're gay?" I sit up and look at him.

"Yeah." He says simply. He raises an eyebrow at me. "What? Does it bother you?"

"No." I say a little too quickly and my heart beats a little too fast as I lay back down next to him. "No. Not at all."

"Good." He smirks at me. Like he can tell what I'm thinking. He can't, can he? "When I came out, my parents basically threw a party. A fucking party. They're so embarrassing." He shakes his head.

"At least they were there for you." I mutter.

"What?" He turns his head towards me.

"Nothing." I won't meet his gaze.

"No, tell me." He leans on his elbow and sounds genuinely interested. Well too bad. He's not getting anything out of me.

"It's fucking nothing."

"Ryan..." He pleads.

"I'm not going to tell you anything about my past, so get over it!" I yell as I stand up.

He stands up and looks daringly in my eyes. "Why? What the fuck do you have to hide?"

"It's none of your goddamned business!" I step so close to him that our foreheads are almost touching.

"So what?" He says, defiance dripping off his words.

"So, you have this fucking perfect family with your perfect fucking dead dog, with your perfect fucking education at this perfect fucking school, and you don't deserve to hear my sob story of a childhood." I say through my teeth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" A mix of anger and hurt fill his eyes.

"It means that you won't understand. It means that I could care less about your past."