Church Boys † Brendon Urie

7✝ Hate To Love, Love to Hate

"Are you hot?"

"Y-ye-I mean, I guess. I think so?" I stutter, not one hundred percent sure on how to answer his question.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you sound pretty hot." He said, and I could hear his arrogant smile through his voice.

I roll my eyes, although still accepting the compliment. I mean, he sounded cute as well, I wasn't going to lie.

"Thanks?" I say, my response leaving in more of a question form than I had intended. Realizing that I still had a party to get ready for, I asked, "Do you mind telling me what time it is?"

"Time for you to let me in that stall." He retorts.

"I swear to God, if you don't-"

He giggles a bit, "Fine, fine, it's seven fifty six." He says, his ratty sneakers leaving from my view as he walks away.

I widen my eyes, cursing under my breath, and quickly step into my dress. I only had four minutes to finish getting ready, get past this guy, and proceed to the parking lot.

I slipped my shoes on one by one, and pulled my dress all the way up and secured it around my neck. It felt loose, but thats when I remembered that it had a zipper on the back. I reached my arms awkwardly around my body, and contorted them in such a way that I was hoping to reach the zipper. I could, in fact, reach the zipper, but I could, also, only reach the zipper. All in all I was not able pull it up successfully, which wasn't doing well with my time limit.

Trying for a few minutes, and only managing to get it an inch up without injuring myself, I sigh and give up. I realized that I wouldn't be able to zip this up without the assistance of another person.

Awesome.

"Hey... mystery guy?" I called out desperately, hoping he was still there.

"Yeah, hot voice?"

"Can you do me a favor and zip me up?... My dress, please." I ask, trying to sound as un-creepy as possible given the circumstances of the situation.

He laughs a little, "Isn't that a little backwards? I'm kinda trying to get your clothes off of you, here." He says, but the underlying tone of his voice was mostly just joking around. I laughed a little in response, as well.

"You missed your chance, I was already naked. Plus, you're not amusing, and my boyfriend should be here any minute." I replied, a smile forming on my lips.

I was waiting for him to say something playful back, but it only got quiet for a short moment, instead.

I hear a small sigh from the other side of the door. When he responds, his voice seems to grow sad again.

"Yeah, I'll help you." He replies, "I don't want to be beaten up by a second guy today."

For a split second I feel bad for him, but realizing that I, in fact, actually had absolutely no more seconds to spare, I act on his agreement.

I unlock the stall door slowly, with one hand, as the other grips the thin fabric tightly to my bare chest.

As soon as I see the face of the mystery guy standing eagerly behind the door, saying that I was shocked would be a definite understatement.

He doesn't seem to be unscathed by the situation at hand either, because his eyes were as wide as humanly possible. Brendon gritted his teeth and pulled his eyebrows in making the most enraged and discussed face that he could possibly seem to muster.

"You."

"You!"

I turned around and he angrily zipped my dress up, before we turned to face each other, unpleasantly, once again.

We were acting like cat and dog in the situation. He basically growled at me while I practically hissed at him. I knew that with him here, neither of us were leaving without a fight.

"Figures you're at Church, Daisy-Does-Right." He spits, picking up the mop that I had just realized was leaning against the wall, and dragging it against the floor. Wow, did he come up with that himself?

"Figures you're on janitorial duty, it'll be your future career anyways." I retort, "We all know you'd never make it as a boxer if one punch knocks you down."

Brendon stops where he is, and suddenly slings the handle of the mop against the wall, creating a sharp cracking echo against the tile. I'm a bit startled by the action, but my anger conquers all my other emotions as I stand firm with my eyes narrowed.

He begins to approach me, slowly. Breathing heavily from his outburst.

"I didn't ask to be doing this! It's punishment, because you," he says, pointing his finger in my face, "ratted me, and my," he pauses, "friends," saying the word like it doesn't mean anything, "out to my father! You know why? Because you're a selfish goody-two-shoes who wants to act all holy, as if you're better than everyone else. But you're not."

By now he's inches away from my face. "And might I remind you that that was your stupid boyfriend that busted my lip!" He bit.

Now that he was close, I finally got a chance to see the damage that was done. There was a dark purple bruise around it, and a gash covered by a miniature bandaid.

I looked up into his brown eyes that were daring me to say something else.

"Well, as I told your 'friend'" I say, mocking the way he had said it, "if you learned to keep them closed, you wouldn't have been knocked on your butt. It's your stupid mouth that always goes around getting you into trouble."

He glared at me, still only inches away from my face. We stood still, angrily breathing. It was apparent that he couldn't think of anything to say back to me. He knew that I was right. But words apparently weren't even what he was looking for, because before I knew it, his angry eyes were no longer in my sight, and his bruised lips were pressed against mine.

And in that moment, I realized how true my last statement to him had been. But apparently, now, it was both of our mouths that were getting us into trouble.

You'd think that any sane person's first thoughts would be, "Get him off me, what the hell is he doing?"

But no, my first thoughts were centered around the fact that, for someone with a busted lip, he was a really good kisser.

I honestly didn't have a single nerve in my body that wanted to push him away. His arm wrapped around my back, as the other pushed against the metal stall frame for support. This was like angry sex, and makeup sex, all wrapped together in a small make out session, and I couldn't say that I wasn't enjoying it to the fullest extent.

His soft lips that ran so smoothly with mine. His strong arm that held me comfortably close against him. The way that he knew exactly how to end our argument just the way I would have dreamed.

He finally pulled away from me, and stared into my eyes, his face inches away from mine just like last time, but this time, it wasn't in anger.

It was more so in astonishment. Astonishment of the fact that he had kissed me. Or that I hadn't pulled away. Or that I kissed him back just as passionately. Or the fact that we had just made out in the bathroom of an empty Church with absolutely no regrets.

Whatever the astonishment be brought on by, it seemed to be troubling him as he quickly turned away, removing the warmth of his arm from my back, and walked out, mop in hand.

I stood there stunned for a while, staring. I watched the bathroom door intently as if in some odd way, I was waiting for him to burst back through it and kiss me like there was no tomorrow. But he never did, and I was only left with the sudden chime of my phone to snap me out of my daze.

I jumped, startled, and walked over to the counter to sweep my makeup back into my purse, before answering my phone. I didn't even have to check the Caller ID.

"Hey, Todd." I sigh.

"Todd? This is your mother."