Brendon Urie: Imagines and ficlets

The Slow Unraveling (high school!Brendon)

The first time you see him, he's wrestling with his older sister Kara on the front lawn, their station wagon packed up for her to go back to college. He keeps letting her pin him. He's small, thin, but a 16 year old boy, and you think he must be letting her win, giggling, going pliant under her for more hugs and face kisses and triumphant cries by her for him to say uncle, admit she's the best, that he surrenders, him shouting out "Queen Kara," until their stern dad breaks them up to their mom's smiles. You smile too, thinking you'll probably like this boy.

-

The second time you see him, you notice how plump his lips are. Uh oh. His almost shaggy, soft, dark hair. Big dark soft excited but anxious eyes. But joy and bouncy energy radiating off him, in those eyes, lips. You can't help staring, trying to not be creepy about it, gaze shifting, sometimes just falling on another part of him instead like his hands or chest.

-

You have three classes with him. You see he gets picked on on the third day of school and want to stick up for him. When some dickhead gets him back against the wall, faggot sneering on his lips, you do, tell him to leave him alone. He laughs. "What, you still got chicks fighting your battles?" But he backs off, to your relief and Brendon's. He's blushy, embarrassed, but you don't want to make it awkward for him, say it's nothing. You're still nervous, remembering what a bully your uncle was to his sons, to you, even his own brother (your dad was too soft, too faggy for him; you even remember him saying he bets he can't even get it up for your mom, that that's why she's got him pussy whipped, being gross and demeaning to her and his brother at the same time) and sister-in-law, how you only saw him a couple times because of it, worried about what could have happened just then.

-

He's obviously a class clown. Giggly and makes you giggle too. You think he must like entertaining people with humour and being friendly and silly, like he does with being in the school band. You were lucky to get in with your mad clarinet skills haha, because you get to see him more.

-

He's not that athletic, but you see him at the skate park, which also has some splash pads, plus is a stoner hang out. He's pretty good. He shyly tells you that, soccer, and gymnastics stuff are pretty much the only sporty stuff he's good at. You wonder if he's as warm as he looks, how his skin feels... Whoa. He teaches you a couple basic moves, then you watch him go. You wonder if his sweat tastes like yours, or the two guys you've gotten sweaty with at your old school.

He falls and scrapes his knee, but it's not that bad, and you joke about kissing it better, making him giggle, say it's alright. You actually would. You sit talking, about bands you both like because he notices your Metallica shirt, how this town is boring, but your other one was even worse. He usually wears tighter jeans, but these are really baggy, and you think those tighter ones must've been girls, thinking of your own, how alike they are. You noticed before, but didn't really think about it.

"Wanna meet up here again? Gotta get home to dinner." You do.

-

It's not a surprise that most of his friends are girls. Brittany, Leah, Marina, Eric, Amanda, Becca, Trevaugh and a couple other stoners and drama kids.

-

He gets this mix of nervous, talkative, and excitable puppy. He talks a mile a minute about random stuff, tells really goobery jokes that make you laugh anyway.

-

It's an unusually hot day, and luckily they don't turn the splash pad off until next week, so you two run around in it, spraying each other, shaking your hair like a dog, doing cartwheels. Fuck, his smile. Lights up his whole face. And his giggle! His lips are so fucking... lush, jesus christ. How the wet clothing clings to him. He's so cute, even now. Both your clothes are dripping wet, so you lay down in the grass, watching clouds, making up stories for them, telling him about the different types, wanting to get closer to him, touch him, even to feel his upper arm against yours.