The Kids Aren't Alright

-11-

Getting out of the house for the plans they had made was not an easy task for anyone. Gerard had spent an entire week building up the lie that the school was running an open study group, and that his younger sibling was more then welcomed to join. Mikey had nodded along in the appropriate places, even going as far as to make a comment about how useful this would be to further his studies, and their parents had been enthusiastic about them attending.

Pete and Brendon collaborated on their lie, stating that Brendon would be tutoring the younger emo in English. The phone calls between parents really sold their story, and both guardians were under the impression that the two boys would be studying at the library for the day.

Frank did his best not to get beaten to a bloody pulp the night before, and snuck out early the next morning so as to avoid his abusive stepfather. He met Gerard and Mikey at a park with a hood over his head and a fresh bruise on his cheek, but a smile on his face. Brendon was a little ticked off at spending half an hour with Pete and nothing else to distract him from the stupid, repetitive questions, but in his mind it was all worth it in the long run.

Dallon was not informed of the plans the group had for Saturday, so when Brendon Urie showed up on his doorstep at nine in the morning he was a little shocked.

"I'm here for Dallon." The boy said politely, holding his hands in front of him in a respectful manor as he smiled at the Dallon's father, who was surprised to see anyone on his doorstep so early in the morning.

"Dallon?" Mr Weekes asked skeptically, eyebrows raised in shock. As far as he knew, Dallon didn't really have any friends.

"Yep." Brendon nodded happily. "Is he home?"

"I, uh, well yes, he is." He mumbled, turning back into his house and calling his son's name. "I'm sorry, who did you say you were again?"

"I didn't." Brendon clarifies. "I'm Brendon Urie, pleased to meet you." He held out his hand to shake, smiling some more as Dallon's father shook it. The older man nodded, face still full of confusion as his son trudged slowly down the stairs, an empty bowl that had previously held his cereal in hand. Dallon looked up sharply, almost dropping his bowl in shock as he stared at Brendon. He was still wearing his pajamas from the night before and his hair was a mess, yet here was Brendon to witness it all.

"Brendon. Hi." Dallon stated, too busy being shocked to think of what else to say. He could feel his face burning as it reddened. "You're here, at my house, right now."

"That I am." Brendon nodded with an annoying smile that didn't seem to go away.

Dallon grabbed the boy by the arm and began to drag him upstairs before his father could question him. He rushed down the hallway and into his room, dragging a very amused Brendon into his room and closing the door behind him with a bang.

"So this is your room." Brendon remarks, looking around the small space. There really wasn't much to look at, but he remained fascinated by Dallon's wooden furniture and bass guitar.

"Brendon what the hell?" Dallon groaned, trying to smooth out his hair. "Why are you here?"

"Don't be so glad to see me." Brendon scoffed, a smirk on his face. "Nice pajamas, Dall."

"Seriously dude, why are you here?" Dallon asked, resting his hands on his head as his face continues to turn a burning red colour.

"We're going out. I thought Gerard told you?" Brendon asked, dropping his smirk and taking a seat on Dallon's made up bed. As much fun as it was to mess with Dallon, he hadn't meant to cause him any stress or worry. No, Brendon liked Dallon far too much to do that to him.