♡Sweetheart♡ ||Brendon Urie x Reader||

Chapter 15

This one may be shorter because I'm on a road trip listening to hamilton

School had become a meaningless task for me. It was more a place to tie my thoughts together than to learn new material and curriculum. More so to make sense of my situation. But no matter how hard I thought, I couldn't comprehend anything my father spoke to Brendon that night. I couldn't seem to understand what I was missing.

Why weren't they telling me anything? Now I knew for sure my father was involved in some way. He knew more than I did, anyway.

I sat in English class, my hand propped my head up lopsided. I hadn't much to do other than tap my pencil's eraser on my desk, stare wearily at the essay I had been too distracted to write, and think.

What exactly were they hiding?

An empty essay on my desk and an occupied mind, I couldn't do much else but breathe.

"Is everything alright?"

I looked up to see Mrs. Fisher's small frame next to where I was sitting, her voiced hushed and polite.

"Um," I straightened myself out and tried in a futile attempt to cover the proof that I had no work done. "I'm okay, yeah."

She let the faint shadow of smile show. "It seems you haven't gotten much accomplished today. I've talked with a few of your other teachers. . ."

"Oh God," I breathed through my teeth.

". . .and they've all noticed you've been having some issues yesterday and today. To the point of doing absolutely nothing in class other than sitting. Is something going on?" she finished.

"No." I picked my pencil up again, demonstrating I was ready to start my work.

"Okay. . . just don't push yourself. I'd like you to work, but I don't want you putting strain on yourself."

Mrs. Fisher had stood at least two feet away the entire conversation, and left quickly.

Sighing, I wrote a singular word on the paper.

I was instructed to write about a powerful female figure in history and what traits made them successful or important.

But I couldn't manage to focus on the topic, and that was saying something. Kickass women were my specialty.

The day seemed to slow down by the period, but I zoned out the entire day, my body on autopilot. I simply went though the motions, not remembering a single action I made.

I was forced out of this state when classes were over, and I had to be driven home by Brett.

"How was school?"

I blankly stared out the window. "Eh." He found amusement in my answer.

"I happened to be the same way in high school." Brett chortled.

"I don't know," I glared at him suspiciously. "You look like you were either a homeschooled rich boy or are still in school."

"Much to your disbelief, Ms. [L/n], I am neither."

My eyes drifted off to nothing in particular in disinterest. "Enlighten me, then."

"I am only a year older than you. I finished public high school this May and am taking a gap year before I go to college."

"Is that so?" I intended to feign enthusiasm for as long as physically possible.

Despite my slight attitude, however, Brett remained composed and kind. "No need to pretend, Miss. I know you don't care much, but I grew up with Mr. Brendon. That is how I had the connections to get this job."