Mr. B. Urie

16

We walk into the church and I'm surrounded by people I've never met. I wonder . . . If Brendon and I had stayed together, would I know all of them? The thought makes me sad, and I look at Taya to get my mind off of it.

As much as I protested against it, she chose to wear a black dress and dark makeup, looking like she should be at a funeral instead of a wedding. I, in contrast, am wearing a baby blue, sweetheart-necklined dress with silver heels. Taya grabs my arm and whispers something in my ear, pulling me into the chapel. I have no idea what she said, but I follow her anyway. We take our seats in the middle of the left side and wait for the torture to begin.

Brendon stands at the altar in a black suit. His hair is, for once, out of his eyes and slicked back. He looks like a true gentleman. My heart aches as it finally sinks in what I'm losing.

Then the music starts to play: here comes the bride, all dressed in white . . . Sure enough, here comes Sarah, clad in the most stunning white dress I have ever seen. Her black curls are free but neatly clipped off of her face, where you can see the broadest of smiles. When she reaches the altar and stands across from Brendon, his eyes dart towards me. I'm not sure how he's found me so quickly, but I give a sad nod of assurance.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the matrimony of Brendon Boyd Urie and Sarah Elizabeth Orzechowski." The priest begins. I groan, hopefully inaudibly, and sink into the pews. "What a beautiful young couple you are . . ." I block out the rest of his droning speech until I hear, "speak now, or forever hold your peace."

I intend on staying seated and silent, but apparently, Taya has different plans. She shoots up in her seat and practically screeches, "yo!" She pointed looks at me and I shake my head at her until I'm sure I'll give myself whiplash.

"You love him, you can't just let him go," my dad whispers. Everyone in the room is staring at the three of us, so I stand up shakily with Taya.

"Uh, hey everyone. So, look, I made a huge mistake. Like, the biggest mistake of my life, and that was letting Brendon Urie slip away from me. I can't do that. I can't have him marry some girl he doesn't even love just because she needs him to help her . . . Whatever the hell that means. I know what I did hurt you, B. It hurt me too! That's how I know I can't live without you. I do need you, so, yeah, you can't marry Sarah." The words fall out of my mouth, almost too fast for me to keep up with them.

There's a pause; a terrifying silence that could either end with me getting kicked out of a church or epically screwing over Sarah's wedding. I don't feel remotely bad, she kinda treated me like shit the last time we talked. Then Brendon steps forward, twisting the ring off of his finger and handing it to Sarah.

"You really should have seen this coming, Sare. I mean, I hated that you were a rebound. You deserve so much more than that, and I'm not the only one who will support you in life. But Ariella is the love of my life. I let her walk out once, I can't let it happen again . . ." He sighs, taking another step. Then he stops and addresses his family and friends. "I used to believe in fate. If something was lost, well then it was for the best. I thought that it was fate when Ariella chose not to be with me and then Sarah miraculously appeared again. I thought the universe was telling me I had missed this great thing, that Sarah was actually 'the one'. But if there is such thing as a soul mate, mine isn't Sarah. It's the girl I've known since I was ten years old, the one I stole barbies from—again, I'm sorry about the decapitated dolls, I'll buy you new ones—the one who, after not seeing me for five long, difficult years, didn't know who I was and still managed to fall in love with me. Arie should be the one up at this altar with me, but not quite yet . . . We've still got years ahead of us to plan our perfect wedding."

"So, what are you saying, Bren?" Sarah asks, tears in the corners of her eyes. I don't even feel b—okay fine, I feel horrible about it. I'm an asshole, let's move on.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, I can't marry you." He says, looking her straight in the eyes. Her lip starts to quiver and, at this point, everyone is whispering and talking up a storm. Brendon turns his back on her, biting his lip nervously. I push my way out of the pews and up to him, hugging him tightly.

"I didn't want to make a scene," I mutter into his shoulder. He lets out a hard laugh.

"I'm glad you did. I love you so much." In the midst of all the chaos around us, it feels like we're completely alone. That is why I kiss him even harder than the last time we kissed. After all, we have to make up for lost time, don't we?

It's hard to believe that his lips have been on some other girl's mouth for the past eight months, that he's probably been doing other things with her. Things that involve a bed, and, hint: they aren't sleeping. My mouth freezes and I find myself wanting to really be alone with Brendon so that we can talk about everything that happened between him and Sarah.

Or maybe not talk about anything . . . We'll see. I tug on his hand and he follows me out of the chapel and into the front entrance of the church. "Where are we going?" He chuckles, shaking his sculpted hair back into his eyes. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, I guess.

"Your house?" I bite back a smile. He smirks at me and pulls me out to his car quickly. As we drive, I feel the relief of normalcy finally returning. Thank God for that, I was going insane!