♡Sweetheart♡ ||Brendon Urie x Reader||

Chapter 11

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Stepping into Grandview Academy was never an easy feat as a girl living in the main Urie mansion. The halls were always filled with girls of all different types: some anxious, some bubbly, some independent, but what was similar about all of these girls was their fascination with the unrealistic.

Many people tend to cling to fantasy stories and illusions of the supernatural, but the girls at this luxurious school were far more inthralled in impractical phenomena than others. Not fantasy stories, not horror tales, but instead real-life possibilities. And the notion that these pieces of gossip they were excited about had even the slightest chance of being true was terrifying.

They were not interested in ghosts; they were interested in people. They did not spend their hours debating the existence of vampires or the boogey man; they lost time in disputes about the probabilities of their seemingly realistic findings. They were all smart girls with only one rule that was never spoken aloud but always followed: never spread rumors without first examining the situation and contemplating the likelihood of the accusation. When you saw a girl whisper one of her personal speculations to another, there was no doubt that it had a high chance of being true.

They spoke of the unrealistic, which through days of analyzing the gossip, made a way to become realistic. They told tales of the school's history, local town shops, and teachers, but if I saw a group of girls gathered around and chatting, I could almost guarantee that nine out of ten times it was about Brendon Urie.

Which led to me. If someone were in any way connected to the mysterious rich man they became a target. Not of bullying, pestering, or interrogation, but of examination. Those in my classes payed more attention to me than anyone else, they asked anyone who did as much as to stand by me if they heard me say anything that pointed to something suspicious, and they closely followed my body language. It was unsettling.

They didn't wish for strange happenings, they expected it. And Brendon Urie was a man who people knew nothing about. That intrigued them far more than any local shoe store or confirmation of a teacher having an affair.

I found shelter in my friendship with Meagan and Lexi. They didn't ask questions. They didn't assume anything. They didn't eye me up every second or look through my bag. But it was for this reason I always had a feeling that they knew more than I did.

Meagan and Lexi had started as my only escape from the curiosity of my classmates, until a new student—albeit quite late to the school year—showed up in my fourth period English class. She introduced herself as Lily, her hands cupped together nervously in front of the room.  She said she had to finish unpacking in the morning, and she just arrived at school. This was the only class she had been to all day.

This piqued my interest. This girl hadn't been gossiped to, persuaded in any way, or brought into a clique. She could end up one of the curious ones, or she could end up on my side.

I just had to get to her before the other girls did.

My English teacher, Mrs. Fisher, had always been kind but apprehensive toward me. This was not unusual, however, as all of my teachers seemed to treat me this way. Even the teachers with the worst reputations for being rude or disgusting people treated me as if I were freshly woven silk: they were kind to me and thought me to be very delicate, but didn't dare to get too close, like they would damage me.