Lay in the Atmosphere (Brendon Urie) Wattys 2017

EIGHTEEN

"They're all staring at me..." I say from beside Brendon, my fingers shifting shakily against my lap.

"Well the tabloids certainly don't help. You did get drunk and practically dance in cake."

The cameras were waiting for me at this red carpet event. Right outside of our limousine were thousands of poachers waiting for my next slip up and I couldn't help but feel like they had every right to. I wasn't good enough for Brendon. Yet, here I was, with probably the most famous geust of New York Fashion Week.

"Come on, Amelia. They don't bite." Brendon whispers before I quickly turn to face him.

Tears were already brimming in my eyes and I felt like a scared child. I was being a child...

Brendon's face immediately swept with worry and he cupped my jaw in his calloused palms. His eyes searched mine for any sign of how to calm me and I begin to notice the small bits of green splattered throughout his chocolate eyes. We both just breathed together until the encouragement in his expression helped me right into the mind set I needed to be in. It was the first time he had ever grounded me instead of worked me up and for that I was... thankful.

"Okay... let's... let's do this."

The lights were blinding, sure, the questions leapt into my ears and word vomit honestly just spilt but... I wasn't screwing up.

Brendon held onto my hand reassuringly the entire time and everything in the world felt okay. I was finally fitting into his realm, his world. But that's sort of how you'd expect it and want it to go, right?

My luck shortly ran out. One thing I'm starting to notice is that Brendon has a track history. I did, after all, meet the guy by his notorious knack for one night stands.

A model approached us as soon as we entered the ball room, an opening party taking place after the red carpet, for designers, actresses and models alike.

"Brendon. Nice to see you." She smiles, shaking his hand firmly.

Their eye contact never ceased.

"Dixie. It's nice to see you, too." And something about the shift in Brendon's tone made me wildly... uncomfortable.

It wasn't irritated, it wasn't loving, it was just completely somber. Like there had been enough history here to do more serious damage than you knew was even available.

I cleared my throat quietly and tugged on his arm, almost feeling like I was falling out of my own place. Lost in the shadow of a model named Dixie Lapoe.

"Oh! Dixie! Meet Amelia, she's my..." and then he drifted off into a deep process of thought.

Not only had we not been asked about our relationship, but now it was put on the spot by his own words and what came afterward was nothing but silence.

"Business partner, and, as his business partner, I'll be getting our room keys and heading off to bed. It is, after all, my first fashion week." I say with a lack of joy.

I tear the keys from Brendon's pocket and march toward the elevator. Trying my best not to at all panic until I made it behind those cold, metal doors. I felt like I had lost my place within only 10 minutes of being here.

I should've known this was all too good to be true. The lights, the glamour, the people, all of them truly had something else up their sleeves and I was sitting here trying to figure out what first hand, all because I sort of like a guy who can't even admit to liking me back outside of the privacy of his own living room.

I washed off my running mascara, I wrapped my hair in a high bun, I put on a long sleeve shirt, some underwear and crawled into bed. I muted my thoughts with some mindless tv and fell asleep pretty quick.