CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Fifty-Six

The party was in full swing when I saw them.

Sarah's smile, something Brendon had once wrote a song for, something that looked so pretty in photos, was now cruel, twisted and cold. It made my insides want to jump ship.

But that wasn't the worst.

No, that was her hand, protectively pressed against his chest, fingers curled slightly, and the way she positioned herself into him. She was flaunting her victory, her conquest without a second thought.

The man I'd stupidly let inside my head, who had broken the very last non-romantic piece of me, looking as unfairly handsome as he ever had, now wrapped his fingers over Sarah's. And she only looked away from me to look up at him.

I had been kidding myself before. I was not ok. I was so very far from ok.

"Hold this," I shoved my drink at Meagan, but I felt it slip through my fingers at the last second, crashing to the floor, wine spraying, glass melodically smashing to fragments. But I was gone, pushing past body after body who I couldn't weave past, standing on toes, and I was dimly aware of Meagan calling my name, concern laced in her voice, but I was too far gone, and eventually I crashed into the bathroom door, nearly falling to the floor as it swung inward.

There was no one inside, and for that I was glad. Good. I could break down in the comfort of myself.

My fingers gripped the edges of the sink, slipping against the cold ceramic, and I bowed my head low so that I wouldn't have to see myself reflected in the mirror before me. I was afraid that I wouldn't see Florence staring back anymore. Or maybe I was afraid I would.

I guess she tried to open the door to the bathroom quietly, but it just happened to be one of those doors. Its hinges squeaked in protest, and it whumped closed no matter how gentle you were with it.

And without looking away from the edge of the sink, my feet, I knew it was her.

Neither of us spoke, for the longest time, but then she cleared her throat. It was a tiny, delicate noise, utterly befitting of her. "Florence."

I closed my eyes slowly, and opened them again. "Sarah."

"We need to talk."

I could have - and wanted to - laugh at her bitterly. But instead, stupidly, I asked "About what?"

She laughed, a half light, but half sarcastic laugh. "Oh, boy trouble. Y'know, usual girl stuff." she obviously expected me to say something then, and when I didn't, and after another long silence, she sighed. "So can we? Talk?" she tacked on the last part just in case I was an idiot and missed her meaning.

But then I did laugh. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Well, that's alright. I was probably gonna do most the talking anyway."

A part of me urged me to childishly put my hands over my ears to block her out, but instead, I straightened a little, and twisted so that my hip supported me against the sink, and folded my arms. "Does he know you're in here?"

She nodded. "He told me to leave you alone. I half expected him to run in here after you. He looked like he wanted to."

It must be said - Sarah Orzechowski is a very pretty woman. Stunning, with the contrasting dark hair, massive blue eyes and dainty, but pointed features. But that was an outside pretty. I didn't think she was an inside ugly, really, but it wasn't as nice as the exterior. She cleared her throat, before closing her eyes and beginning to speak. "I'm sorry."

That threw me. I mean, really threw me. Of all the things that could have come out of her mouth, I was not expecting that to be one of them.

"You're sorry." she obviously took my dumb shocked repetition for her to elaborate.