Get me Out of My Mind (Brendon Urie)

28. Maybe I'm overjoyed, Maybe I'm Paranoid

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

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I actually can't believe the last time I updated this was in July last year. I'm seriously so sorry for that. Wattpad was literally rrriiiiiight at the back of my mind and I had ZERO time for writing. 

But. I miss it. 

So, I'm back. And I really really want to get the swing back because holy shit, I miss Erin (which is vaguely insane, I know.). I've genuinely thought about her a lot, and wanted to write her character.

I've genuinely had the craziest year. I got married in December for one, which obviously took my whole attention for a while what with planning and stress and focusing on it. I also went to France with my husband for our honeymoon, which was super exciting since I haven't been overseas since I was two years old, and even then it was only for four days with relatives in new Zealand (I live in Australia, so NZ is super close to us so it was hardly a major trip, especially since what I remember was that we spent the whole time in my Grandmother's house and did absolutely zero sightseeing.) And then I had some stressful jobseeking shit, and I may be moving interstate in a couple of months... bleh, it's been exhausting. But I'm here, and I'm stretching my writing muscles again, because I haven't abandoned Erin or the amazing people who read this story- and because I'm determined that I WILL follow through this story to the ending I have planned.

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ERIN

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The glorious day of my birth continues (Funny, how it feels like this birthday has been so long that since I was in my bedroom to now I'm out here, it quite literally feels as though six months has passed!) when Brendon and I head into the kitchen, and I find that my fears are eased. Claire is there- she has not abandoned me on my birthday after all, and not only that, but she has not forgotten what important day it is; she has delivered. As per our tradition, there is a fat cake sitting there on the table.

"Claire, I love you, and I think I want to marry you." I greet her, one hundred percent serious in this moment. Over the years, Claire has never failed to deliver when it comes to cakes, but this may actually be the best cake that she has greeted me with so far. I'm not even a hundred percent sure what it is, but I see its worth already. I mean, for one, this cake appears to be tiny layer after tiny layer of chocolate, sandwiched with chocolate buttercream and topped with the works; ganache, chocolate curls, those little swirls of chocolate mousse...

"It's a crepe cake." She tells me. "Chocolate crepes with nutella buttercream."

Okay. Yes. Sorry, Brendon, but I am now apparently going to date Claire. And marry her. Purely because of this godlike cake she has brought me.

Claire insists on officially giving me a hug and wishing me happy birthday before we cut this magnificent cake of hers. I personally feel that it is a crime to cut this cake, especially since I should just be allowed to drop my head into it and eat every single chocolatey delicious scrap, but alas, apparently that is 'improper etiquette.'

I say, etiquette is, for lack of a better word, bullshit. Still, Claire hands me the kitchen knife, which I take gleefully- despite the fact that I tend not to cook, and instead just eat takeout or scrounge Claire's cooking, I always love using this knife when I do actually have to cut something. It's one of those giant sharp knives that looks like the type a murderer would proudly use to dismember their victims, and so whenever I take it by the handle, I am filled with a sense of maniacal power for a few seconds. At least, until I remember I am not in fact some invincible serial killer, merely a loser who has imprinted too many horror movies into her brain.