FEVERISH [RYDEN] [REPOST]

PARKING LOT PERSONAS (PART TWO)

Brendon Urie allowed the tears to stream down his face freely as he buried his head in his knees, hunched over on the park bench, folding himself up in a pitiful motion.

He was a virus, an unlovable bacteria, a fever to everyone around them, forcing their bodies to go into defense mode, sweating and sleeping and growing red in the face.

He didn't know they were parked near here.

It was a playground at night, artistically silent, beautiful in a way that perfectly encapsulated the cold, unforgivingness of the circumstance, the cold plastic a window to the child that everyone in its vicinity never got to be.

There was a parking lot near the playground.

There were two occupants in total.

One, Brendon Boyd Urie, his tears dripping onto his fingertips, and the other in the lot, her finger on the radio dial.

Aliyah Weston was sitting in her car, her pills in her hand, when she saw him.

She wasn't planning on getting out of her seat, but she wasn't planning on stealing her step-mother's car, and she certainly wasn't planning on killing herself.

But sometimes, things just happen.

Nevertheless, she opened the door, walking over to the boy on the bench.

What was one more moment, one last good deed before she was sent to the afterlife?

"Hey."

He sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, swiping his slight fringe out of his eyes. Brendon Urie's doe eyes, the ones that charmed Ryan Ross, looked up at her, his pupils allowing the stars to slink in, consuming his body and soul and bones and inner fragility that only comes from a young Mormon boy who finds solitary in weed and liquor and music.

"Hi."

She sat next to him, not waiting for an invitation. He probably wasn't able to make a coherent sentence, as he was too busy trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

But if she knew one thing, people came to parks at three am for three reasons;

Sex

To Cry

And To Die

And as far as she knew, the two of them weren't planning to fuck, and he was clearly crying, and that only left one spot for her.

"I'm Aliyah."

There was a pause.

"I'm Brendon."

"Just Brendon?"

"Urie."

She tilted her head back, her neck fitting in the back of the bench, her hair tumbling over it, her eyes taking in the stars.

"What do you do, Mr. Urie?"

"That's my father."

"Brendon."

"I'm in a band."

"Yeah?"

She spread her legs slightly, the wind catching on the hem of her skirt. It was light blue silk, dancing on her scratched skin, swirling along her ankles. Brendon was mesmerized.

"I've always wanted to be in a band. What's it called?"

He paused again, the stars reflecting in the ghost of his tears.

"Panic."

"Just Panic?"

"Panic! At The Disco."