CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Fifty-Two

It all happened on a sunny Saturday morning.

It just seems cosmically unfair that your whole life can be punched in the guts on a day where the sky is cornflower blue, the sun is shining, and the birds sang their tinkly little songs. It was totally selfish of me to feel like this, but that was one of the stupid things that crossed my mind after.

Before, it started like any other Saturday where I had nothing to do, my coffee from Jesh, and the drive to draw something. That something was the finalised character profiles for the Killjoy comic - which now needed a color scheme. I had three of each character, with slight variations, and Gerard had attached a note telling me to go with whatever felt right. After which, I would send them back to him, he would pick one out and we'd go from there. So ok, maybe not like every other Saturday before, but close enough.

I had my hair scraped up in a messy top knot, and I'd changed into a plain white vest shirt and shorts, the window wide open to let the sun in and the heat out, a gumball pop Katy Perry song bouncing out the stereo. I'd cracked open my new pack of comic markers, delighting in how easily they glided on the paper, and only paused from my work in order to take a sip of the coffee cooling beside me.

I could easily lose hours this way, drawing with determination - just as I had this morning, starting at seven, and it now being after ten. There were worse ways to glance at the clock and think 'where's the time gone?'

It had been over a week now since Jessa and the conversation in which she'd asked for time apart, and it was odd. Odd, to not wake up to a text from her, to not hear here her excitable and bubbly tone, to not have her thumping on my door and throwing herself down on my couch, to not hear her and Tommy bickering at work - which she hadn't turned up to at all. Tommy had asked why, once, but he was a smart kid, and could sense that something was up. I still jumped, whenever my phone buzzed with a text, or oncoming call, looking at the ID in the tiny flicker of hope that it might just be her.

Which is exactly what happened, when my phone buzzed at ten twenty-seven, breaking me out of the rhythm I'd gotten into.

I set my marker down, and grabbed at it, and -

Felt my shoulders slump in disappointment that it wasn't her - before my heart fluttered at the sight of who it actually was. We hadn't spoken much since the date, really - a few texts, a couple of calls, and twitter DM's whenever we both happened to be online at the same time. But we were ... doing it right. We really were taking it slow, and starting as ... well, I don't know. But it was really nice, whatever you wanted to call it.

"Hey, Brendon." I said brightly. "What's up?"

"Flo." he said. And something in that one word alone, and the fact that he hadn't used his nickname for me, sent a prickle down my spine. "I ... I'm sorry."

There was a muffled voice in the background, and he must have put his hand on the receiver to reply to them, his voice muffled too, but louder. And then he came back on. "We ... we need to talk."

"Is ... are you ok?" I asked, with concern.

His laugh seemed a little ... Off and his tone was just a little sarcastic. "Oh, I'm fine."

"Then," I swallowed, hard. I felt it then. Resting like a monster at the bottom of my stomach. Dread. "What?"

"I think ... I think it'll be better if we speak face to face." He said, and his voice became detached ... like he'd flicked a switch, and any emotion was gone. Later, later, I'd bitterly know, that it wasn't him who'd flicked the switch. "How soon can you come over?"

"Brendon," I said in a small voice.

He must have covered the receiver again, because there was his voice, then a reply, and the sound of someone leaving the room as a door slammed shut. And just like that - his voice was passionate, and maybe even a little cut-up. "Flo, just know ... you're an incredible human being. And know that I do care about you. A lot. And you deserve to be happy. I hope that ... Well not straight away. Maybe not for a while. But at some point realise that what will ... Happen, well, you'll be happier in the long-run." And then the sound of the door opening, and he paused. "Like I am." he finished, almost unsurely.