Lay in the Atmosphere (Brendon Urie) Wattys 2017

EIGHT

The dress arrived as expected, placed on the front desk at roughly 2:08pm by two very finely dressed men. They looked rushed, like secret agents planting a hidden bomb only this wasn't a bomb at all, it was a brand spanking new Urie gown and I marveled at it through its clear plastic.

"I... thank you gentleman." I chuckled softly and lifted the gown into my hands, gazing at it in awe. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a marvelous piece of work. It was stunning, beautiful, every sense of those words.

And yet, I remembered exactly what I was doing in it. I was attending a fundraiser with some asshole who I had only met a few days ago. Artistic and grand maybe, but an asshole none the less.

"Holy shit... is that a NEW URIE GOWN?! HE GAVE YOU A NEW GOWN?! FROM HIS NEW LINE?! HOW?! WHY?!" Janelle was outwardly freaking out and I couldn't quite understand how someone so innocent and sweet could even remotely admire someone like Brendon.

Except for the fact that she didn't know him. She didn't know him at all.

"I guess he liked the models I chose."

"You don't understand. No designer, let alone Brendon Urie, has revealed a garment before their runway show. Not once. I can prove it."

"Well, then let Brendon Urie be known as the first." I roll my eyes and hang the dress gently on the coat line behind the front desk, almost tearing up as I parted ways with it until 3pm.

"No, I just refuse to believe he did it because of the models. He likes you."

I blushed brightly, but I wasn't blushing out of flattery, I was angered by her response. So desperately did I want to tell her everything. The forward moves, the blow jobs in my car, the weirdo kiss a couple nights ago, the way my heart sang for him until he tried to win me over in the cheapest way possible just to tear me apart, the bribe. If she really got to know him, she'd hate him too. But I ignored her and let her keep her fantasy pure.

I set in the last appointment. Before noticing it was 3:04, and I excitedly logged out of my server and whipped around to grab my dress. Sure, I hated the man who made it, but it was a Urie dress.

"Bye!" I holler at Janelle as I practically sprint to my car.

I wanted to try the gown on like nobodies business. But when I got to my car, there was a man standing in front of it. One of the same men that brought my dress to me in urgency.

I raise a brow at him and he points in the direction opposite of my vehicle, to which I see Brendon standing there, smiling a cheap, toothless smile. As if he wasn't all that pleased to see me. I clench my jaw and sigh, making my over to him seeing as how my car was being blocked.

"Do you like the dress, Miss Jackson?"

"Very much so, Mr. Urie. I was actually hoping to head home to try it on."

"Shall we, then?" Brendon opens his car door and I stare into the audi's back seat, memories of a couple nights ago, the blonde bobbing her head on his cock.

I shake my head.

"I'm capable of driving myself."

"Nonsense, you don't have a tailor." Brendon giggles, the laughter genuine.

He looked at me as if I was in a totally different world then him. And truthfully, I was, I knew nothing of the lifestyle he lived. It was extravagant, lavish, classy. I was hardly any of that.

"A tailor?" I curl my lip in response.

"My, Amelia.. you don't think I designed this dress for you, right? This was designed on an entirely separate bust. Your breasts are much smaller, your ass much firmer, larger, your hips much wider, your rib cage much more narrow. Please, don't be ridiculous, Amelia. Your body type is so impeccably different yet perfect, I couldn't have possibly designed this dress for you. I couldn't get the right by first glance, I'd need to soak it in for days, countless amounts of days. I would've loved to, Amelia, but unfortunately that isn't the case." Brendon was tapping his foot as he rambled and I found his long, obnoxious speech sort of... alluring.

Sweet, even. He spoke of my body like it was art, not just another warm, meaty substance with the potential of being beside him, or underneath him, in his bed.

I was at a loss for words.

"Miss Jackson." Brendon muttered, still holding the door open for me.

"Right." I furrow my brows and slide into the Audi, still clutching the plastic surroundings of the dress between my fingers. I was suddenly nervous.

Brendon sat next to me and the man that was once in front of my car was now driving Brendon and I out of the parking garage.

"You have a... you have a driver?!" I ask, fuming.

Brendon smiles widely.

"He has a family he attends to at night, Amelia. I'm not as heartless as you perceive me to be." He says, scooting further away from me to gaze out of the window.

Then I hear a song play I hadn't ever heard before. It was beautiful, and Brendon was staring intently at me, hoping for a reaction to the song he very obviously chose. The piano was beautiful, it was soft, soothing, inviting, warm yet cold.

Brendon then rolled down each of our windows, resting his head back and I followed soon after, a smiling tugging at the corners of my lips. I couldn't even help it, he... definitely was winning today.

"Amelia..." I hear him speak, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"Amelia." I gaze into his eyes as I open mine.

They didn't look so... indescribably cold as they once did, and maybe the sun had a large play in that, but somehow I couldn't look away. He... was being extremely different toward me today. Respectful, kind, gentle, sweet. It was something I wanted to hate but I couldn't. Despite basically kidnapping me, this was a side I hadn't ever known existed. But, it doesn't change what our first few encounters were like. Those almost seem unforgivable.

"We're here." He says, stepping outside of his car door and rushing over to my side.

Brendon opens my door and just gazes forward at the property. His home. I was back at his house... and it was in daylight, even more beautiful than in the evening, in the darkness.

"Brendon..." I whisper, astonished at how the sun just perfectly hit the roof of his almost castle.

"Thank you, Estabon." He smiles at the driver, they each nod to each other quickly before Estabon seems to take another trail toward a separate part of the home, I'm assuming a garage of sorts.

"Come on, Amelia. I'm excited for you to meet her."

"Her?"

"Lisa, my mother. She's my personal tailor. Has been since I was five." He chuckles holding his hand out for me.

That's too cute, too much... I could throw up. Why, why in the world was I nervous?!