Mr Urie loves me (brallon)

I'm not okay

Author's note- I got a piano book for The Greatest Showman and it's great!
I hope you guys like this chapter there's going to be DRAMA :)
Also I probably won't have a chapter up tomorrow because I'm going to be a 50th birthday party until late, so I'll be tired and it's unlikely I'll write a chapter that late at night, but I'll write a chapter for Monday!

Brendon's p.o.v.

I drove home as fast as I could, in fear of my parents arriving first. They would question were I was overnight, and who I was with. They probably think I go to clubs or have one night stands. They don't trust me enough, sometimes.

They're worried that they didn't raise me well enough as a child, I guess.

I breathe a little more, knowing my parents haven't arrived yet. I won't die of a heart attack yet.

I check my hair looks okay, and that the house is as clean as it can be. My parents always wanted me to hire a house cleaner to work so I didn't have to do it myself, but I honestly don't mind cleaning. I find it relaxing, sometimes.

However, the relaxing atmosphere quickly transformed into an atmosphere of annoyance, as the doorbell rings. Great. My parents are here.

I place an overly fake smile on my face as I welcome my parents, waiting for them to nag about something. They always find something. Always.

My mum walked inside, giving me a quick hug that felt awkward and forced, just like our relationship. My dad just gave me a pat on the shoulder.

"Sit, sit," I insisted, directing them to the living room. It had been redecorated since they'd last visited, and I was quite proud of the rich, red sofas and black rug that covered the oak floor. My parents however, weren't as impressed.

"You've redecorated," my mother said flatly.

"Yes," I replied matching her tone. "I wanted a change."

"I liked it more before," she said with slight disgust. "Of course you'd pick something like this."

I took a deep breath in frustration. "Well, mother, I like it and that's all that matters. You don't live here, and I do, so therefore it doesn't matter to you what colour my living room is. Your opinion doesn't matter to me, as long as I'm happy, and you should be happy that I'm happy for once, instead of making stuck up remarks." I knew I ranted, but it was good to get it out of my system. My mother sat, shocked, that I dare say such a thing, but my father showed no emotion, staying stone faced. A deadly silence followed.

Finally, my father cleared his throat.

"How is your job, son?" He asked sincerely. My dad was nice, it was just a shame my mum was so snobby.

"Fine," I sighed. "A lot of good pupils, and a lot of bad pupils too. But I get good holidays, so I like it even more."

"Good," he nodded. "I'm happy you're enjoying it, Brendon."

"Thanks." I said, before telling them I'd make tea. I could hear them discussing me while I was in the kitchen, despite their hushed voices.

"Can you believe he spoke to me like that?!"

"You had it coming to you. You act like this every time."

"Well I'm his mother, I have the right to."

"He's also twenty four. You can't treat him like this forever."

I decided I'd heard enough, and pasted another fake smile on my face, carrying the tray of tea and cakes in to my parents.

We were quiet for a moment while we sorted out the tea, taking a slice of cake as a satisfying accompaniment. I had a red velvet cake, which I loved.

"So, Brendon, do you have a special someone?" My mum asked me. I could tell she was trying hard to be genuine so I decided to just behave to not irritate her further, and I also decided I might as well tell them about Dallon.

I smiled warmly. "I do, actually."

My mother raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's her name?"

"It's a he," I replied without shame or hesitation. My mother choked on her tea, spluttering like a hag, but my father seemed nonchalant. I continued, "I have told you I'm gay before."

"Well," my mother choked out after recovering, "what's his name then?"

I smiled again. "Dallon. Dallon Weekes." My parents nodded in acknowledgement. They obviously hadn't heard of him.

"How long have you been going out for then?" My mother pressed.

I shrugged. "Really not that long. Maybe a month or so."

"How old is he?"

This was the question I didn't want them to ask. But I couldn't lie.

"Dallon's , um....sixteen." I said nervously. "He's seventeen this May."

"Sixteen!" My mother began. "Brendon, do you know what sort of trouble you could get in?! How do you know him?"
I knew she wouldn't approve. Like I said, she'd always find something to nag about.

"I know, I know, but we haven't done anything, if you know what I mean." I mean sleeping with Dallon. It hasn't happened yet, however I do plan on doing it someday, but my mum doesn't have to know that. "I know him because he's my.....pupil."

My mother stared at me. "Brendon Boyd Urie what sort of sick man are you?!" She really blew up. "I can't believe my son has grew up to be like this! Gay, I can manage, but being a pedo, I can't believe you, Bren-"

"Get out, mother."

"What do you mean, I'm your mother! You will not tell me what to d-"

"GET OUT NOW AND DON'T COME BACK!" I yelled. My mother looked startled, but grabbed her things and rushed out of my house, head held high. My father gave me a quick hug.

"I'm sorry she's like this, Brendon. I really am. Next time I'll visit you without her," my dad said. See, he actually cared. My mum just wanted me to be the perfect son.

Well guess what? She'll always be disappointed, because there is no such thing as perfect.

I watched them drive off, before going to ring Dallon to tell him about the occurrence.