New Aged Emo Imagines and Preferences (DISCONTINUED)

Damn It (Brendon Urie) Part 2

"Ryan Boyd (L/N), come here, and get your shirt on! We aren't leaving the house unless you put on your shirt!" I argue with my 6 year old. He sticks out his tongue, running away again. I laugh, getting up and chasing after him. I catch him around his waist, and sit up both down. He struggles against my grip, as I try to wrestle his shirt on.

"What is it going to take," his hand flies back and he smacks me in the face by accident, "for you to put your shirt on?" He flops down, sighing dramatically.

"I wanna listen to Panic!." He whines.

"And we will, Ry. But you need to put your shirt on." He lets me slip the long sleeve over his head. "Coat, boots, hat, mits. Come on now. We are going to be late for our flight! You don't want Grandma and Grandpa worrying about us do you?" I tell him. He shakes his head before beginning to put on all of his stuff, as I do as well, and we head out to the car, on the way to the airport.

Once in the car, and we start driving, and I play Panic!'s music for him. He bobs his head, dark brown hair flopping all over the place. God, he looks so much like his father.

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Once through security and baggage, and Ryan and I are on our way to the gate, we see a crowd of people with cameras and a bunch of teenagers surrounding someone. Ryan climbs up higher on my back to see.

"Momma! Momma, look it's Panic! At The Disco!" I freeze. I may be fine with him listening to my ex's music, but I am not dealing with meeting him.

"Momma, we gotta see him! I wanna-"

"No, Ryan. We have to get to our flight." My voice is harsh, but at the moment I don't care. He wiggles out of my grip on his legs, and falls.

"I'm going to see him!" He argues, already running off.

"Ryan Boyd! Get back here!" I yell as he runs into the crowd. I hear yelps, and the whole crowd stops moving. I push through the crowd, looking for him.

"Ryan, come here!" My voice is angry and scared. I hear people whispering. Goddamnit, why did I date Brendon? Everyone fucking recognizes me now. I find my way to the middle of the circle, and my son is standing next to him. Fuck.

"Ryan, come-"

"Momma, look. It's Brendon!" He says, pointing at the man bent down next to him.

"That's your Mom? Well, then, you-" he stops talking when he looks at me. "aren't lost. (Y/N)?"

"Ryan, come here. We're going to be late for our flight." I grab his arm and pick him up, placing him on my hip. He grumbles, reaching toward Brendon.

"(Y/N), wait, do you-"

"Look, B, I have a flight to catch. I don't have time for this shit."

"We're going to my Grandparents!" Ryan says loudly.

"Ryan, stop."

"Is this our-"

"Stop. Ryan, we're leaving." I throw one last glare in his direction, before heading out of the crowd. They part for me, snapping pictures.

"Momma, do you know Brendon? 'Cause it kinda seems like you did." My son asks, not realizing he's hitting a nerve.

"It doesn't matter. I'll explain when you're older." I snap, walking faster.

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"-he tried to talk to me! After 7 years, he tries to talk to me in an airport, as if not talking to him, or even attempting to reach out to him wasn't enough of a clue that I don't want to associate myself with him anymore." I complain to my Dad. "And then what makes it even worse is that Ryan lied to him, about losing me at the airport, and then told him where we were going. He knows where you guys still live, he could come here!"