she's my winona; brendon urie au

nine

After the coffee date, Brendon came back to my house so I could show him around. Oh god, did I just say date? What has gotten into me? Brendon follows my car back to Thames street where my new house is. God, I'm still getting used to calling it my house. I'm kind of overwhelmed at this point, and I hate that it happened with Brendon here. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, but it's still kind of embarrassing.

"So," I say, once he catches up to me at the door.

"So," he mimicked, as we enter my house.

I begin my showing him the rooms on the middle floor: the living room, the kitchen, the office, bathroom, boring stuff like that. He seems fairly amused, pointing out dumb things to make it fun or commenting knowledgeably to make an impression. After I bring him upstairs to show him my bedroom, I get kind of worried. I mean, does this not seem straight out of a porno? Maybe it's just me-and I find myself saying that a lot-but things are getting too fucking predictable these days and I'm kind of sick of it. I relent though, reminding myself that I'm in a rough place, and proceeding on to show Brendon Marley's room, the guest bedroom, then mine. Once I open the door to the master bedroom, a wave of nerves wash over me. It all feels kind of weird; I'm not even moved in yet. Me and Brendon walk inside the room where he abruptly sits on the edge of the bed. I chuckle lightly and walk around the room, aimlessly.

"Ugh, I haven't even moved in here yet." I complain, continuing to look over the room.

"Since all of Marley's stuff is here, this was our first stop after the hospital. I'm going to pick my stuff up at my apartment today." I explain, rubbing the back of my neck.

Brendon lays down on my bed, seemingly exhausted. He even sighs when his back makes contact with the mattress.

"I can help if you want," He offers.

"Really? You seem kind of tired," I comment, sitting on the left side of the bed.

"Wow, I've known you for not even four days and we're already in bed together," Brendon jokes.

I poke his arm and laugh, "Don't push your luck."

He sighs again, bending his arm at the elbow and using his hand as a pillow.

"But, seriously, I'm not tired. I didn't sleep a lot last night because I'm emotionally drained, but besides that, I'm fine."

I laugh, "You replace my assumption with an equally sucky truth. How is that going to help your case?"

"I dunno,"

I rub my arm, "What had you so emotionally drained?"

Brendon sits up so we're face to face, and somehow that seems more intimate than him laying down. Not even in a sexual way, it was just so much more real.

"I don't know, really. I think going to Boots was a bad decision. I've been trying so hard to avoid stuff like that, because it makes me sad, but I guess I just lost it yesterday . . ."

"What made you go back?" I say, catching his glance from his hand, pressed against the bed and being leant on for support.

"I've kept a lot of the stuff we bought for the baby, and I decided I would return some of it."

"Hasn't it been over a year?" I ask.

"There's a reason we chose Boots," He laughs, "And it's not for their phenomenal deals."

I giggle back, "Was it their return policy?"

He nods, "Julia," his girlfriend, "Figured I'd screw up with a lot of the buying, so she made sure that every time she sent me to buy something, it'd be from Boots."