Child • Jøshler

chapter twenty seven

Trigger warning: murder, blood

When Brendon opened his eyes, he wasn't lying in his black bed.

No. He lied underneath a pretty little tree in a sun-bathed field. He lied in the tree's perfect shade, slowly sitting up.

The field was filled with the greenest grass Brendon'd ever seen, with a pretty flower here and there.

He looked down at his clothes, to find the same black skinny jeans that he wears all the time. But also, a white old-looking shirt; he couldn't even remember the last time he wore that.

He went to run his hand through his red hair; thank God, the color was fading.

He frowned in surprise when he felt his hair much longer than it actually is. It was covering his forehead, like it did in the old days. He pulled a strand of it to take a look at it. It was the dark color Brendon's natural hair was. He chuckled at it, very confused.

Damn confusion, it would always make his head hurt. And how could it not? Confusion is a state in which you can't find answers to your questions, the elementary questions.

"Melt your headaches, Urie"

Brendon's eyes widened and he looked around himself, searching for the angelic voice. His chest began to rise and fall faster than usual.

The leaves of the pretty tree above him shook in a pretty melody. Only a certain somebody could make trees sing. Brendon grinned, watching the spot where the branches moved aside, revealing a large branch and a small boy on it.

Ryan.

"Ryan" Brendon spoke, too frozen by love to actually get up.

Ryan smirked, standing up and holding the instrument in his left hand carefully. A few tiny rays of sunshine complimented his milky skin. He was looking down at his feet, hiding the slightest blush that his cheeks created. He took a step into nothing.

Brendon knew what he was doing, but his heart still skipped a beat.

A bunch of green branches wrapped around Ryan's foot and held him tightly in place. He took a another step with his other leg and the same happened. Whenever he'd make a step, the branches would let go and reposition. He's done this so many times, it was so natural; he had no worries about staying in balance.

He walked like that off the tree. Once he reached Brendon, Brendon's grin widened; if that was possible at this time. Brendon wanted to kiss Ryan's lips so much right now, but he'd rather enjoy the moment. He didn't understand how did he get here, how is this happening. He won't ruin this with a kiss that he isn't even sure if he's allowed to give.

Ryan sat on the grass in front of Brendon, Indian style; thus Brendon folded his legs to mirror the action.

In his lap, Ryan held the instrument. It was an instrument Brendon knew he'd seen a billion times, but for some reason he felt like he was just laying his eyes on the object for the first time in his life. It was a conflicting feeling; he knew what it was, but at the same time he had no clue of what it is.

"Brendon" Ryan announced, keeping his head down but looking into Brendon's eyes. He sounded pretty damn dramatic "This is my new guitar"