Pray for the Wicked (Sequel to Death of a Bachelor)

|15|

The alarm read three in the morning, and the room was dark. So this made me ask one question.

How am I still awake?

I heard Brendon in his room, walking around and singing to himself. This jet lag has us both screwed up. I turned my light on and rubbed my eyes. I got up to go to the bathroom so I could apply my makeup. I accidentally bumped into Brendon while making my way to the bathroom.

"Sorry," I mumbled, continuing my venture. Brendon placed his hand on my chest, keeping me from further moving.

"Why are you up this late?" Stumbling backwards, I tried to balance myself from the slight shove.

"Well first of all, holy! I'm not a brick wall. I'm up for the same reason as you!" His eyebrows furrowed and his hands moved back to his person.

"Stress?" He ran a hand through his messy hair. I shook my head no and sighed.

"I meant jet lag, you know, the normal option?" Brendon rolled his eyes and looked at his watch.

"Let's go hit a twenty four hour McDonalds, it's not like you're going to go back to sleep, and neither am I." He walked past me as I continued to the bathroom. I applied my makeup quickly and winked at myself in the mirror. Just for self motivation, because I'm not gonna get it here. Brendon couldn't give any shits about me.

I jogged back downstairs and met with Brendon who was twirling his keys around his finger.

"Ready to go?" Nodding, we both walked out the door and into the pitch black night sky that is Venice. He unlocked the black Ford Explorer, which was in the driveway when we got here, and opened the door for me. I didn't bother to say thank you, because he wasn't doing it to be nice.

"So, what meal is this?" I asked once he had shut his car door. He turned the key into the ignition and smiled as the car turned on.

"Whatever, it's not like we're going to be going back to sleep." He removed one hand from the wheel and placed it on his lap, now driving with one hand. He had a black dress t-shirt on with a pair of black slacks. They all suit him so well.

"So, what are you going to order?" He questioned, turning down the radio.

"Umm, large fries and ten nuggets. You?" This was one of our conversations where we weren't at each other's throats. I was thankful.

"Probably just a regular Big Mac with a side of fries." His answer didn't really surprise me. For the rest of the ride, we rode in silence. Brendon started singing along to the songs on the radio. It took a lot in me to not smile and applaud as he sang Blank Space by Taylor Swift.

"Okay, we're here. I don't think I need to tell you, but behave." He held a tight grip on my wrist as we walked into the McDonalds. Then his grip let go and he moved his hand down to mine.

Why?

"Welcome to McDonalds, what can I get you?" His voice showed no expression, but he finished with a yawn. Who works at three in the morning?

"Can I get a Big Mac, ten nuggets and two sides of large fries with two large-" he bent over to meet my ear and whispered in my ear.

"What kind of drink?" The vibration of his raspy, velvet voice sent shivers down my spine. I stuttered, I don't know why, it was a simple question.

"Iced tea," I replied. He nodded and looked back to the cashier.

"Two iced teas," he removed his hand from mine to pull out his wallet.

"And for you?" He moved his gaze to me. I looked at Brendon with his clenched jaw, and I felt his hand give a tight squeeze.

"It was all together." His teeth were grit and his eyebrows were furrowed.

"That'll be twenty-nine forty." His expression remained dead as he made the sale.

"Cash," Brendon gave him thirty dollars, and waited patiently for his change. The cashier slowly dropped sixty cents in his hands and Brendon put it in his wallet. We both walked back and waited for our food, which didn't take long.

"Thank you, sir." Brendon took the bag and turned the corner, quickly checking the bag. While he did that I looked at the TV.

"Breaking news! The owner of Urie's skyscraper's children have been reported missing. They were taken from the their home late Friday night, where the kidnapper has been told to have entered through the back door, held the babysitter at gunpoint, stolen the kids and priceless jewellery. What has happened tonight is a tragedy, and the father, Brendon Urie, has chosen not to speak about it."

"That's terrible!" I gasped, nudging Brendon's shoulder to have his attention. He nodded and sighed.

"The things people do to infants is sickening." He spat. I rolled my eyes, and we both left.

"Weren't you the one who killed ten kids for no reason and then kidnapped another one?" His hard, now solid, gaze fell onto me.

"What was that?" I slammed my door shut and did my seatbelt.

"You can't feel sympathy for something after you did it!" I fired back, and Brendon closed his eyes. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel and ran his hand through his hair.

"You know what? We'll deal with this at home." He said calmly. Shit! His calm voice was never a good thing...

"Okay! I'm sorry for acting out! I'm still messed up and thinking I'm dreaming and such. I forgot who I was dealing with." I apologized, playing with my fingernails nervously.

"Nope. Sorry's not gonna cut it anymore. You're with reality Brendon, not softie Brendon." He said sternly, turning on his hazard lights.

"You kidnap me twice and expect to not make snotty remarks?! I know you, Brendon. You make think I'm stupid, but I'm not. I observed you when you first took me. So before you think you can push me around, think about it." I retorted. Brendon smirked and pulled into the house.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I have on you now..."