if you find this ( DISCONTINUED )

Four - Brendon Urie's Ass on a Scale of 1-10

"So what about you Gee-Bear?"

"First, don't call me that. It's fucking weird okay? Second, I have to teach this kid a lesson. Stupid shit with a weird-ass surname or something."

"Whatever you say, Gee-Bear."

Let's just say 'Gee-Bear' doesn't take shit, especially from Brendon Urie. The next half an hour or so consisted of 'Gee-Bear' threatening to shove a cymbal up Brendon's asshole, which was pretty amusing apart from the fact that having them sprint around a very small room trying to tear eachother apart was not the brightest idea.

Especially when Brendon ran into my chair, causing me to tip over with both the idiots landing on top of me. It was probably worse for Gerard though, because judging by Brendons sarcastic comments of "You can rate my butt perfectly from there!" I do not want to know where his face ended up.

--/-/-/--

As soon as the bell rang for the end of school, I bolted out of the practice room and practically ran back to my house.

Luckily my mum worked late on Friday's so I could get ready with no interruptions from her. It's not that I didn't love her, it's just that she can be a bit... overwhelming.

And I definitely did not want to be given any more reasons to be any more apprehensive. I quickly showered then styled my hair over in the typical fringe. After putting on the necessary amount of eyeliner (which was a lot), I started on what I was going to wear.

I pulled on insanely tight skinny jeans (which consisted mostly of swearing and wondering why I had jeans so tight they cut off my blood circulation). I just grabbed a random jumper out of my wardrobe because I was really running out of time now. I didn't want them to think I was always late, even if it's not far from the truth.

I had asked hem to meet me at this unknown little coffee shop, where not many people went. I really didn't want this to be ruined, it actually meant something to me for once. I grabbed my headphones and put them on, stuffed the keys in my pocket and practically ran out the door.

--/-/-/--

The coffee shop I had recommended was on the 8th floor of this multi-purpose building, which contained office sections as well as hang out places and a few small shops. The fact that that I couldn't feel my legs thank to these jeans (that may or may not be a rather vibrant shade of red) only added to my laziness and I walked over to the lift . What? I was not going to waste my time walking up eight flights of stairs.

When the lift finally arrived, I got in quickly and pressed the button for the eighth floor. Just as the mechanic doors started to slide together, a short body quickly pushed himself through the gap before looking up with wide eyes.

"That must be the most exercise I've ever seen you do, Stump. Surprised that you managed to fit in if I'm honest. "

He immediately started turning a bright shade of red (almost matching my jeans) and bit his lip. For once, I decided not to torment him too much - mainly due to anticipation - and tapped my foot impatiently as we eventually started moving up.

Patrick made a point not to look at me, but the whole masquerade ended when the lift came to a clanking stop. The machine jerked upwards, causing him to fall backwards into the wall and hit his head. He fell onto the ground, but grabbed his head and started muttering to himself which I took as a good sign - at least he wasn't dead.

The doors didn't open at first, and my tap of the button soon turned into a frantic repetitive attack on the 'open doors' symbol. A noise like static came through the little speaker located in the wall, and the next words practically turned my blood cold. "Due to engineering malfunctions, unfortunately this service will be held up for at least the next few hours. Please stay calm and use the call button for emergencies. Thank you."

I sunk to the ground opposite the groaning mess, and immediately started to concentrate on not letting anything get out of hand. I felt my chest tightening and breathing grow erratic, but I was determined not to let the panic overtake me. I clenched and unclenched my fists a few times, concentrating on the feeling of nails pushing into my skin rather than the overwhelming sense of dread.

"P-Pete, are you okay?"

My chest shook with a violent tremor as I attempted to calm down my breathing enough to be able to give coherent answer. Its just an elevator. It's not the end of the world.

"Pete?"

"What?" I didn't mean to get angry, it's just that my anxiety seemed to escape as a burst of energy. It was like a balloon, the agitation stretching it so thin that it eventually burst with a loud bang of irritation and an uncontrollable desire to lash out.

He backed up even more, his eyes growing wide as he realised he must of struck a nerve. I took a deep breath, then tried to explain myself.

"I'm sorry, it's-it's just that I'm not great with small spaces, okay? I'm really sorry I'm acting like this, I just can't handle them. It's the factor of being trapped among a spectrum of-"

"Its fine, I get it - you don't need to explain."

I buried my face into my knees, biting my lip so much I'm pretty sure I drew blood. A surge of momentum suddenly caused the lift to soar upwards, making my stomach flip and ensuring I had to bite back a sob. Before I knew it, I was silently sobbing into my knees, praying to a God I didn't believe in that it would be over soon. Where had the cool, contained version of me gone? I had no idea, but I needed him back.

I jumped slightly when a small hand landed on my shoulder, but when he tried to pull away after realising he had startled me, I grabbed on. I muttered a simple thank you into my jeans, and I'm not sure he understood me. But he didn't need to, it was a sort of silent and indefinite pact that neither of us needed to know too much - don't ask if you can't handle the answer after all.

--/-/-/--

I had eventually calmed down, though it had been at least an hour since we had first became jammed somewhere between the 6th and 7th floor. Patrick and I had started a somewhat civil conversation and that seemed like progress if anything. I didn't have the energy to think of ways to get to him - he actually wasn't that bad.

"So... does Ross have a weird obsession with milk or something? It's just that I never see him without it at lunch, it's slightly creepy."

Yeah, lack of conversation had led us to gossip that to put it simply, I really didn't care about. I barely talk to his friends, so why would I care?

"I don't know if I'm honest... its probably just his favourite or something, but who knows? It could be something like an insane fetish - you never know with Ryan."

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so I just gave out a nervous laugh and continued, "Hey, I need to call someone quickly. I just remembered them and they probably feel like I'm standing them up or something. Sorry." This was probably the politest I had ever been to him, let alone anyone recently. I was slipping.

I got out my phone, and went onto the familiar set of messages. The messages to Them. I would just text, but being over an hour late and apologising over text doesn't seem like the best first impression, does it? I steeled myself and pressed call. Who knew a voice could be both so scary and enlightening at the same time?

As soon as I pressed call, Thriller filled the small space. I slowly locked eyes with Patrick, then hung up. The song immediately ended, and all blush deserted his cheeks leaving him a scarily pale shade of white. Holding my breath, I pressed call again and sure enough Michael Jackson blasted into the tense silence.

"Oh my god."