CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Fifty-Four

For two and a half weeks after the night Breezy stayed over, she took it upon herself to ... Well, the nice way to put it would probably be 'look after me' but I wasn't dumb - her main concern was that I would do something stupid. Dallon, too, regularly checked on me. Even mom, who called on several occasions - all the calls lasting at least two hours, and all beginning, ending (and all the way throughout) with 'are you ok, honey?'

Yes, I was sad. Yeah, there were moments where I'd just be hit with it, and I'd cry. But I wasn't about to harm myself, or others. I threw myself into work, into drawing, any distraction. And I thought I was doing ok.

I stayed away from twitter, and even contemplated deleting Brendon's number, and erasing all our messages. The last one I chickened out on, for whatever sick reason, I couldn't stand the thought of them just not existing. Like it had never happened.

I came to the conclusion that maybe I was meant to be alone. My last two relationships were great big examples of that, if nothing else. Maybe I should just come to terms with that.

It was my day off, and I'd planned nothing more than to hole up, drawing, listening to old mix CD's of Joan Jett, Blondie, Bon Jovi, Pat Benatar and The Cranberries I'd made back in high school. Maybe I'd stop to have coffee, maybe some ramen. I hadn't really had any desire to eat much though, even though I knew I should, and Breezy's prompts by bringing me takeaways and soup told me she was worrying about that, too.

Which is why I sighed when the doorbell rang, expecting to see Breezy, or Dallon on the other side, ready to make sure I hadn't stopped functioning or something, carrying breakfast with them. "Coming!" I called, throwing it open -

- And not expecting to see Meagan Camper standing on the other side, in a navy vest shirt, grey skin tight jeans, blue toms and a navy Snapback. An outfit that would be dressing down for someone, but on Meagan managed to look like high couture.

And here I was, in ratty old denim shorts, and a slightly oversized Adventure Time t-shirt, my hair scraped back in a topknot. Guess which girl is the model.

"Oh!" I said, the word popping out before I could stop it. To say I was surprised to see Meagan was an understatement. But it was a pleasant surprise, the nicest I'd gotten since ... Well. "Hi, Meagan."

She smiled, wider, and waved. "Hiya, Flo." she clasped her hands together. "Sorry to just drop in on you, I was gonna text but my phone is just destroyed, and well ... I was wondering if you'd like to get lunch?"

I blinked. "Oh, I-"

"I mean, I can go, if you're busy..." she said quickly, hooking a thumb behind her.

"No!" I said quickly, before smiling and shaking my head. "I mean ... Give me ten minutes, yeah?"

A half hour later, we were seated at a little cafe, outside, in another glorious day of unrelenting sunshine, eating blondies and sipping on ice teas that Meagan had insisted I get because 'they are to die for.' (and just for the record, they really were). I'd changed into Glamour Kills summer dress, grey cotton at the upper torso, with a pink skirt decorated with grey cat heads wearing glasses, pink toms, my hair in a neater ponytail than before.

"So," Meagan said, after taking possibly the daintiest sip I'd ever seen in my life. "How have things been with you, Flo? How's life been treatin' ya."

"Ah, well," I said with a shrug. "Life's a bitch. But where would I be without her."

"I hear that." she said with a nod, before pursing her lips on thought. "I know I shouldn't complain and all, but ... I don't know. I feel a little like a chump. I mean, like ..." she took another sip and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Pete's been super busy, and I can't be mad at him for it, but sometimes I do get mad about it, and then I feel silly. The other day ... the other day Bronx was staying, and he called me 'mommy'. And I don't know, that just ..." she trailed off.