Sunday
12:22 AM
high school parking lot
The crickets are chirping and the leaves sway loudly in the dead of the night. I never really knew why they called it that because this is where we feel alive, especially now. Especially now as he tucks my hair behind my ear and kisses me sincerely. Not like every kiss he gives me isn't sincere. We don't touch too often. We barely even speak anymore. But tonight, tonight we can finally be together. Because that's what things like this are all about.
We're young but we're not naive.
He knows I'm cold so he holds me closer. He knows I'm scared so he whispers many beautiful words in my ear and sings me any song that he knows can console me in any given situation. He knows me so well.
How did I get so lucky? I know we are young, but I feel that while being with Brendon, I've added so many years to my fourteen years of life. He taught me things in ways no one would have ever thought of. He'll lay with me under the stars for twenty minutes and I'll learn so much more there than the six hours I spent at school. The most beautiful and important things in life are the ones we have to teach ourselves. Or be taught by Brendon Urie.
It's cold, and he holds me and rocks me as I shiver behind the school. He's singing gentle Bright Eyes songs in my ear and I blush a luminous red in the moonlight. The September wind is whistling between us, the first debris of summer being washed away and making room for the beautiful autumn days in Chicago. Nature is all that really matters right now as it is the only thing around us for once. Brendon's a part of the earth. I can't live without him and I tell him that. But I'm getting impatient. This isn't going fast enough. We should have been in my bed twenty minutes ago, as it had been intricately planned. Instead I was dancing with some female friend of mine and so was he. I felt just like everybody else for once and I'm not sure if I liked it. I hoped she didn't notice the jealous glares I shot at her friend who was currently nestled in Brendon's arms as the blue lights danced over our own slow-moving feet. She liked me, I could tell.
But Brendon, he's in love with me and I will always much rather be here in his arms. There's a different way that Brendon presses his face against my neck, kissing my collarbone and biting lightly. His hands wander around my body, tugging at my tie and the waistline of my pants. That's when we leave the dancing and music and the parking lot behind and proceed down the sidewalk back home, hand-in-hand. No one is around this part of town this late at night (hell, no one's around here much in the daytime), so there's no curious eyes to be afraid of. With Brendon, there's nothing to be afraid of except us.
There's nothing to be afraid of except how paper-thin I remember my walls are. Except how I remember my dad usually wakes up at 2:00 in the morning for more water. Except how squeaky my mattress is or how nothing seems to be loud enough to cover for us. That's what I'm afraid of. How love is so blind that I forgot everything except how much I wanted to feel Brendon's skin pressed breathlessly against mine. How exciting and perfect we both thought this would be. And it could be. It was.
Brendon giggles when I touch his spots that are still vernal and ticklish, but he still manages to get all the sighs and moans just right. We have to stop occasionally when Brendon swears he hears footsteps outside my door. It would be the most awkward thing in the world, if it were with anyone but Brendon. He wants this to be amazing, and getting caught, well...that's the last thing we need. What we need is the same concealed compassion we always had. That's all that we needed, all that we are. If everyone knew or not, that's just the added math.
He collapses next to me as his body is more than spent. I close my eyes and trace the texture of his hair as he leaves kisses up and down my chest. What's amazing is this beautiful boy will be in church in several hours. He'll be thinking of me during every second of the supposedly boring sermons and sacraments. I know this because he tells me. He whispers to me as we lay there and just talk, saying we should sleep and what not. The "what nots" comprising of things like "I'll never stop loving you, Ryan Ross." He kisses my lips so carefully and then says, "Don't ever let me leave you. You're everything to me and I can't live without you, Ryan. I'll never leave you." I believed him, and I kissed him and let him rub my stomach in large, never-ending circles, until I fell asleep beneath the heated sheets.
Brendon moved to Las Vegas two weeks later.
He doesn't look a thing like Jesus. But he talks like a gentleman.
click
Sooo... thoughts? =]
rate!/pick!/cbox!/message!
