It's a hell of a feeling (Brendon Urie | Halloween)

I see what's mine and take it

Just a warning; this part is pretty fucking dark, oops.

She's so... innocent. The Angel costume really is befitting of her. A few grins, some laughs and carefree smiles and she's immediately more at ease in his company.

And Brendon Urie- the name is a smile on her lips when she greets herself. She's Maria, Maria Balconi, but he already knows that. He's known it for a while, even before he saw her face. The name lingered in his mind as if it were carved there like the designs in his skin.

He offers her a drink, ever playing the gentleman. She accepts, and once again he has to stifle a laugh at her naïveté. Have her parents not taught her anything about taking a drink from a strange "man" at a party?

Though naturally, he's not going to spike it with roofies. He's not a human man, he doesn't have that disgusting sexual prowess that so many of them seem to possess. He is, however, going to spike her drink- just not in the way one might expect.

She turns, plucks a brownie from the stand. It only takes a moment; a drop of venom, thick and viscous, slips its way from his fang, dissolving in the murky liquid of the punch with only a soft hiss that is drowned by the loud music.

Maria pivots once more. The lights spatter a rainbow over her face, and her large eyes are clueless and far too trusting as she takes the drink from him, sips deeply. Drops cling to her lips, and he knows that already, the poison will be making its way into her bloodstream.

His own lips curl into a smile.

--

Brendon is nice; there's no other word for it.

He may be dressed as a devil, but as far as Maria is concerned, he's anything but that. He's her saviour at this point.

Just when she was feeling a fish out of water, denuded and uncomfortable, Brendon appeared and the evening seemed to perk immediately. He's a perfect gentleman, she finds; he gets her a drink, pulls a seat out for her, and they chat. While the other teenagers and young adults surge around them, writhing and kissing and grinding against each other, Brendon and Maria merely keep a steady flow of conversation.

He's witty, carefree and a relaxing presence. Slowly, her twinge of discomfort from his too-realistic costume fades into nothing, and the smile widens across her face as they chat.

They have quite a few things in common, she realises; similar tastes in movies, books, music. And there's a part of her, stupid as it may seem, that wonders if this is some kind of fate- that they were destined to meet at this party. She knows how irrational that must be, but looking into his eyes (even shrouded with what she is sure are contact lenses, because no human's eyes are that colour naturally- an almost fluorescent green like that of a neon sign) she feels comfortable.

"Dance with me?" He offers, when a slower song begins to swirl from the speakers. His lips are cocked into a crooked smile, eyes alight with festivity. The disco ball above sends a shower of glittering reflections over his body, and how can Maria resist?

--

He takes her out onto the floor, fingers laced with hers. She glances at her hand, wondering f his body paint will rub off against her skin- but he must have used impressively good makeup, as it doesn't.

His arms are warm and strong, and they wrap around her waist with ease. She has to all but tiptoe to get her arms around his neck, and they both chuckle at the awkwardness for a moment. He may be leaving grey traces of foundation on her costume, she can't tell, but even if he is Maria doesn't care. As the chords of the song bloom around them, his head angles closer to hers, and her heart flutters against her ribcage, wondering if he's about to kiss her...

Then a searing pain shoots through her forehead, making Maria cry out and lurch backwards. It's sudden, and unexpected; almost as if something is in there, inside her skull, and is trying to get out.

--

Brendon's grin finally switches from innocent to menacing, and he pulls her closer to him, despite her cries that are growing more hysterical and wrought with pain by the second.

It's time.

He gathers her in his arms, and everyone else is too absorbed in their own trivial dramas that they don't notice the two; the boy in a demon costume whisking the girl in an Angel costume upstairs.

Maria wretches; blood dribbles from her mouth, dripping on the ground. Brendon starts to laugh, triumphant, and she stares at him. As expected, her eyes gleam with horror. He's sure his own eyes did, back then, back when he was weak and small and human. He screamed when it happened, and he's sure that she will too. But ultimately... Ultimately she'll thank him, one day.

"What have you done to me?"

Maria's voice is weak and hoarse. He sees the skin near her hairline contorting, and knows that it's soon, it's so close that he can taste it. That Angel costume won't fit her much longer; not just since her body will change, but since she'll be anything but an angel.

"What have you done to me?"

She screams and claws at her skin, but with the pounding of the party behind them, she may as well be speaking silently. No one will hear her, not now.

The grey is beginning to appear, in blotches like a fast-spreading rash. He can hear her bones cracking under the skin, the sound satisfying his own twisted sense of enjoyment - then finally, he sees them. The skin on her forehead ruptures, and the tips of two horns poke through. Maria howls, clutches at her forehead. Brendon knows how much it hurts, after all. He remembers.

His laughter echoes and entombs both of them. She should never have underestimated him. She should never have trusted him.

She should never have assumed he was wearing a costume.

Her own costume is being shredded as her skin twists and she writhes.

"Perfect," Brendon purrs. Maria's screams have taken on a triumphant edge now, rather than fearful. She opens her eyes, and the hazel in them is gone; replaced by a vivid, fluorescent green.