Author's note:
In case you haven't seen it, in quite a few interviews Brendon said he was going to end up being a hairdresser if Panic! hadn't worked out. Hence his job in this story where he is not yet a professional musician.
And now...
A brief, fourth-wall breaking foreword from Erin:
Warning: the following few chapters contain a LOT of Grandmaster Urie. And I mean a LOT. Though it's probably a break for you, because you don't have to deal with my annoying voice for a while.
I will say right here and now that yeah, events regarding the two of us happened after second date. I mean, duh, otherwise there would be no point in me even telling this story.
But I'm taking a brief break before I drive myself insane... uhhhh, more insane than I already am, I mean. Besides, it'll be interesting to see for a little while what Brendon thinks of things. Especially why the hell he's interested in me, and not any other girl like a sane, normal person would be. Honestly, I think it's better if Brendon describes what happens himself for a bit. I'm too exhausted, right now, and because quite frankly it would come out as a garbled mess (that is, even more of a garbled mess than usual, of course.) So- though I can't believe I'm actually saying this- it's probably time that Grandmaster Urie got his point of view in.
Ps. Tell him how arrogant he is for me.
--
Brendon
-
I've known Claire Romero almost ever since she started college. And I have to admit, the first time I ever saw her, I had a crush on her for a little while. It's impossible not to; I think that everyone who meets her probably falls in love with her within just ten minutes. She's beautiful, sweet, and witty. So the first time, when I'd just started at the salon, I saw her sitting in my chair, I had this pathetic idea that I was going to date her one day. I was only young at the time, after all.
One thing was true; I did fall in love with her, but definitely not in the way I thought. A few years down the track, the crush had worn off into a solid frienship. Yes, she remained as fucking incredible as ever, but I realised soon on that my attraction to her was pretty damn fickle, based totally on appearance and not anything more solid than that. Just because I knew a pretty girl did not mean I automatically had to date her, and I realised that we were cut out to be just friends, and so friends we stayed, even though my guy friends constantly whined to me about what a waste it was. As if Claire's just a sex object- comments like that always piss me off to no end. Fuckin' assholes.
My younger self would be disgusted by the sheer maturity of that decision.
Claire is one of my favourite clients, partially because her hair is amazing and fun to work with, and mainly because I can talk to her properly, whereas some people buy into the crappy, biased view that all male hairstylists are the stereotypical camp gay guys and therefore are expected to be their clients' gurus for fashion and lovelife. No way in hell am I anyone's guru; I've made enough crappy choices with my own life. I'm sure as hell not going to be responsible for anyone else's. As for fashion... well, as some people (uh, one person, anyway) put it, I dress like a waiter. I have no fucking clue about designers, I just know that I like waistcoats and shirts, and dress like some vintage gentleman. I would even wear a top hat if I could. I have even worn a top hat on some occasions. What can I say? I think top hats are sexy. People should wear them more often.
But if anything, Claire is the one who listens to my problems and gives me advice, which is one of the many reasons I like her. And I was in a bad mood one morning, sulking a bit, and Claire asked me what was wrong.
"You're not being you're usual dorky self," she had teased, and I laughed slightly.
I'd just ended another short term relationship a couple of weeks ago, and was still feeling pretty crappy from the backlash of it all. I'd gotten carried away thinking Audrey was the one, even though we only dated for about a month. She was fun, smart and pretty, and we'd been able to goof around, have fun pulling stupid faces in photobooths and eat Chinese takeout on her lounge room floor. But then, she'd slowly been adding more and more insults, complaining that I needed to be more serious, I needed to be more mature, I needed to be more exciting in bed (which is a total lie. I am a fantastic lover and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I am one pheasant plucker.). And when she had told me one morning that she was sick of my obsession with music, it had been the last fucking straw for me.
But now, I was anxious as I told Claire all of this. Was I selfish, ending a great relationship because of that? I wasn't even missing Audrey, but I felt stupid. I'd never been in any relationships where the other person really got... me. Maybe I was overthinking the way relationships should be...
When I told Claire this, her face lit up like the final pieces of a puzzle had clicked into place, and she looked up at me so quickly that I almost accidentally cut off a much larger chunk of hair than I intended- thank God I didn't. My reputation as Brendon Urie, hairstylist extraordinaire, would have been destroyed.
"I think I know someone who's perfect for you."
I thought she was wrong. But then I walked into the restaurant for our blind date, and there she was.
When I interrupted and she looked up at me, leaping to immediately start defending herself in the most bizarre, roundabout way. She thought I was a waiter, and told me that she had some big, buff boyfriend who would wipe the floor with my smirky ass.
I think I knew, in those first few minutes, that Erin was unlike anyone else I'd ever meet. And the rest of the night confirmed my theory. She was feisty- actually, that was more of an understatement. Her eyes were like sharp, pale blue flames and they crackled whenever she spoke. People say the eyes are the window to the soul. Lucky me; my eyes are so fucking big that people can pretty much see my entire soul from them. Then again, I have nothing to hide; I would happily walk around in my underwear and nothing else if I could. Or naked. I have very little shame.
But when I stole a chunk of her steak- which I will never apologise for; it looked far too tempting sitting there- and she looked up at me in outrage, I could see in her eyes. And she didn't have expectations about me. Other girls I've been with- I could see in their faces they were expecting something from me. And I'd feel the need to slip into a persona with them.
Erin didn't expect that from me. I could be myself. I could joke along with her, tease her, have fun with her. I could let my guard down, and be me. I goofed around, swore, and enjoyed myself. It didn't feel like a 'date' usually did. It felt like a date should. Hell, we even got Dunkin' donuts. Most girls I've been with have expected some kind of fancy shit that looks like a modern sculpture. And yeah, that's delicious and all- but seriously, why pay fifty bucks for a tiny dot of mousse on a plate when you can pay a tenth of that amount for a nurtitious- well, kind of, anyway- and satisfying donut in all its greasy glory?
But one moment we were laughing, and then the next she was freaking out. I didn't know what to do; I wanted to hug her. I hug everyone, no matter what gender. (If my guy friends feel the need to whine about No Homo and act like tools when I hug them, then I tend to grab their ass to tease them.) But Erin looked... I don't know. She looked scared or something. I didn't know what I'd done, and part of me wanted to joke about it, but for possibly the first time in my life I knew better, because it would make shit worse.
She ran away from me, though. And I watched after her. Her running was awkward, dark hair flapping, skinny limbs flying all over the place.
She was beautiful, I remember thinking. She was so fucking beautiful.
I like to put on a bravado act, flirt and act like a player. Hell, I love the fuckboy image- it's fun to keep up that persona. But I'm a pathetic romantic at heart. When I like someone, I usually can't get them out of my head.
Which is why it's been weeks, and I'm still wondering what went wrong, and just how I fucked it up with Erin.
-
Claire has an appointment today. And I'm being an idiot, and freaking out.
"Calm down, man," I mutter to myself, tugging my hair. I need to cut it, really- funny how I spend my life preoccupied with other peoples' hair, but I always forget about my own until it's turned into a lion mane on my head. I need coffee. I need whiskey. I need... No, I do not need weed, I remind myself. I can calm myself down without weed.
"Hey, Éclair," I grin as I see her, stepping behind her chair. She smiles up at me, running a hand through that perfect hair of hers.
"Hey," she says easily, flicking out her curls. "How're you doing?"
Good. This is a good sign... I hope. If she's being cordial to me, then that means Erin can't hate me that badly. Claire is fiercely protective of her friends, so if her best friend hated someone, I'm pretty sure she would take her side.
"Good," I say, because that's the appropriate response. Claire settles back in her chair and I run my hands through her hair as always, smiling.
"So, what do you feel like? The usual, or something different?" I purse my lips, pretending to think about it. "You could totally rock the Britney spears look."
Claire laughs, but pretends to be mad, smacking my arm ever so slightly.
"What? I'm just sayin'," I smirk at her, but shake my head. Even though she probably could, I would never do something so horrendous to her perfect hair.
"Not on your life, Brendon," Claire laughs, and I feign disappointment.
"I take it you're not willing to go for green hair then, either?"
She shakes her head, curls bouncing against her shoulders. "Maybe not today. I just need a couple of inches off and the highlights touched up, okay?"
I was already pretty sure she would, and had already mixed up the hair colour for her highlights this morning. I can be overachieving when I want to, after all.
And because Claire is so easy to get along with and chat to, I kind of forget about the Erin thing- for the first time in weeks- until I've rinsed Claire's highlights out, and am preparing to trim up the ends. Then Claire mentions Erin's name mid sentence. She's mentioned her before- they're roommates, after all, and from Claire I heard a lot about how her best friend used to do weird but kind of awesome shit like prank her way before I even knew Erin's name, let alone had met her- but now, I know who she is.
"And I've finished my finals, but Erin still has some to go and-"
Her mouth snaps shut suddenly. I stop halfway through combing her hair, and frown slightly. Claire turns her head to look at me then, eyes immediately regretful.
"I shouldn't have mentioned Erin," she says instantly. "Sorry..."
I laugh it off like it's no big deal- and really, it shouldn't be a big deal. I knew her for a few hours- that hardly qualifies being this affected by her.
"Oh, it's fine," I shake my head, grinning at her even though it's kind of forced now. "I've been on tons of dates that don't work out, no big deal." Then I cock my head to the side. "Now, can you keep your head still? Don't want to jack up your hair."
She turns her head back, and I really hope she's going to drop the whole Erin thing. God, I need coffee right now. My tongue's practically screaming for the taste of caffeine at this stage, and my leg's starting to bounce a little bit idly.
"I was surprised things didn't work out better with you two," Claire says, though. Apparently she's not going to drop the subject. I want to be pissed off with her but it's very hard to be pissed off with Claire for some reason. Plus I don't usually get pissed off with clients- well, except for ones who sit in my chair and complain that they hate having male stylists because 'gay men make them feel uncomfortable'. (Homophobic assholes. I'm not even gay, anyway- my ridiculous crush on Erin is great testimony to that. When I very firmly told one client I was bisexual, she said there was no difference between the two. When she shrieked and yelled because I proceeded to 'unintetionally' but totally intentionally dye her hair black instead of blonde, I retaliated by saying there was, in her own words, 'no difference between the two'. I almost got fired but it was totally worth it.)
And, back on track, I especially don't get pissed off with the loyal clients like Claire. Plus even though I kind of don't want to talk about Erin, I also kind of do because I kind of want to know why she ran away the way she did.
"I don't know," I shrug, still combing Claire's damp hair. "I don't know what the hell happened, to be honest. Things were going great on our date, but then she seemed to get really upset and-"
Claire's head snaps up again. She's really lucky I'm not alreadt cutting her hair, or that would totally be a jacked up cut.
"What?" she says sharply, turning around. Her usually soft features are now fierce, which is a surprise for me.
"What?" I repeat back, wondering why the fuck she's so annoyed. Did I piss her off? I don't think so, but then, it might be one of the times when I ran my mouth off without thinking properly.
"Things were going well?" she raises her eyebrows, lips set. "Things were going well with you and Erin?"
Well, I thought so initially, even though now it seems that apparently I was misguided.
"Yeah, she was laughing and grinning," I shrug. "We were joking around, she made up all these weird pet names for me and we went to Dunkin Donuts..."
Claire looks furious, shaking her head so that the hair I've just combed into place flies everywhere.
"I knew it!" she says incredulously, and I raise an eyebrow, wondering just what she knew. "I knew that she was lying!"
What? What was Erin lying about? My leg's bouncing even more now as I sit on the stool behind Claire, suddenly feeling like a little kid, all eager to know what the hell is going on.
I should probably be professional and try to coax her head back into place, but screw professionalism. My frienship with Claire is more than just a client relationship anyway, and this concerns my personal life, so now I kind of have to know what she's talking about. Well, that's the excuse I'm using for being nosy.
"Are you going to tell me, or...?"
Claire spins around fully in her chair to face me, which is definitely a bonus of salon swivel chairs.
"You say Erin freaked out?" she prods. I nod, wondering if I said the wrong thing. I tend to do that a lot. Except now I've said it, I might as well elaborate.
"Yeah. She'd said she enjoyed the date, and so I asked if I could see her again. And then she started laughing and saying all this sh- uh, stuff (I'm technically not allowed to swear on the job even though I do it anyway) about being a lone wolf and having left the waffle iron on..."
Claire groans loudly, cutting off my words and flopping back in her chair in a very un-Claire-like manner.
"Erin, you liar," she shakes her head, eyes shut almost as if she's in pain. "Oh, God. Typical Erin. Brendon, you have no idea... if she freaked out, that means she likes you."
That makes me a hell of a lot happier than it should. My excited grin is probably a giveaway, so I rearrange my features into a more calm expression. Which is probably a smirk, since my face seems to default to that.
"Of course she likes me," I tease Claire. "I mean, who wouldn't like me?"
Claire opens her eyes at this, shaking her head with a slight smile, even though she still looks uncharacteristically annoyed.
"Erin told me that everything was really awkward between you two and you didn't click."
Seriously? Okay, now I'm just confused.
"I dunno, I mean I thought we clicked but maybe if-"
"She said that because she's Erin," Claire cuts off, as if that explains everything. "And Erin never does anything straightforward."
I kind of gathered that fromn our date. I thought it was, well, cute. God, that sounds so sappy.
Still, I let Claire continue, because I'm really curious now and way too hopeful now that Claire seemed to confirm that Erin did, in fact, like me.
"Erin is stubborn and contrary," Claire sighs, lips twisting into a frown. "She also is very insecure, even though she pretends that she isn't. And she tends to sabotage things for herself because she thinks she doesn't deserve them."
She looks genuinely sad, and I'm beginning to feel that way, too- I hate the idea of anyone doing that.
"So if she did that- and I definitely believe you, because that sounds exactly like her- she was probably being contrary. Because she thinks that if she likes someone then they can't possibly like her back, and because she's already decided she'll be "forever alone" so she can't go back on that."
I am admittedly impressed with how easily Claire is able to decipher the motives of her friend.
"You seem pretty well educated on how her mind works," I comment, and Claire laughs.
"I've lived with her for a few years, and figured out some of the mechanics of her thoughts." She informs me seriously, before her smile droops a little.
This is suddenly awkward. Ah, shit. What am I supposed to say now?
"Did she ever, y'know, mention me again?"
Claire smirks a little at this. It's funny- I didn't know that Claire was physically able to smirk when I first met her. Boy, I was proved wrong. Despite all her innocence and sweetness, she's capable of some serious amusement or smugness when she wants.
"No," she tells me, and I don't get why she looks so pleased with herself. I'm not exactly thrilled to hear that if I'm honest- it makes me feel like a total loser, still interested in a girl I met once who apparently hasn't given me a second thought.
"But," Claire continues before I can try and change the subject. "She's not so much not talked about you as she has very deliberately avoided mentioning you. And with Erin, that's definitely a sign that she's interested."
I raise an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"Or, that's a sign that she hates me and doesn't want to speak of me again...?"
But Claire shakes her head fervently. "No, no, you don't understand. If she hated you, then she would talk and talk constantly about you. How much you annoyed her. All the dramatic ways she plans to get revenge on you." She taps her nose conspiratorily. "Trust me. I know Erin better than she would like to admit. And with what you said, it sounds like she freaked out because she was interested. If she didn't like you and didn't want to go on a date with you again, she would have told you. And probably with some kind of analogy about how magnets from the same poles flip away from each other," Claire laughs fondly, and I can see from her facial expression just how much she really does care about her friend.
I can also totally imagine Erin saying that. I will never profess to know her as well as Claire does- I mean, one night has nothing on several years of living together in college- but from what I saw, I can imagine her facial expression as she says something like that.
Then I realise that even though I'd happily chat to Claire about this for the rest of the day, I have a client after her who will probably be pissed if I overrun with Claire's appointment, so I really need to get my shit together.
"Okay, Éclair," I smile, moving my hands up to tilt her head down gently. "I'd better get back to work, or your hair will've grown down to your ass at this rate."
She nods then stills obediently, always a good patient. As I carefully trim the ends of her hair, though, I have to be careful because I am far too distracted right now, and that's not a good thing. Distraction while you're cutting hair can end up with one hell of an angry and usually short-haired customer. Trust me, I know this from experience.
"You're still coming to the grad party, right?" She asks, when I'm almost done. Claire is one of the few clients I'm close enough to that I actually spend time with out of work. We've gone for coffee a handful of times, seen movies and I've invited her to stuff. It's just a good, comfortable relationship even if it does lead to far too many people labelling her my girlfriend.
"Fuck yeah!" I announce probably too loudly; I hear someone clearing their throat, and turn to see the receptionist glaring at me from above her magazine.
"Urie," she narrows her eyes. It's funny; I've worked here a hell of a lot longer than her and have a higher position than her, but somehow she still thinks she's the boss. Apparently sitting behind a desk gives one a sense of power. "No cursing."
"Oh, of course! I am so fucking sorry," I call over cheerfully and she scowls at me. From behind, I hear Claire giggle lightly, and turn back to her.
"Anyway, you were saying?"
"I asked you if you were going to the party, and you said F yeah," Claire refreshes my memory helpfully, and I nod.
"Just try and keep me away from a party," I snort, shaking my head as I comb through the last section of her hair that I need to cut. And Claire looks very much like the cat that got the cream at that moment.
"Good. Because you know... Erin's going to be there..."
I snip at the ends of her hair before looking up. She looks almost... sly now.
"Of course." I have a feeling I know where she's going with this- and hell, yeah, I'm kind of up for it.
"And she's gonna talk to you."
My eyebrow shoots up into my forehead.
"How can you be so sure of that?"
Claire shrugs slightly.
"Because Erin's... Erin. She'll probably deliberately go up to you and say Hello, strange person who I have never ever met before let alone gone on a date with."
I chuckle at the thought, shaking my head and combing out Claire's hair to make sure it's even. In my peripheral vision I see the door pushed open, and my upcoming customer stride in, throwing herself down on one of the waiting chairs, and I roll my eyes. She's early anyway, but it also means that I have to hurry up with Claire's hair or she'll start whinging.
"You don't think that's kinda... I dunno, disrespectful of me or something, though? I mean, if Erin's genuinely not interested..." I ask Claire as I grab the blowdryer from my station, and she shakes her head a little.
"That's the thing, Bren." She assures me. "Like I said- I can tell that Erin is interested. But she's going to stubbornly avoid ever speaking to you again unless she gets a little... push." She flicks her wirst slightly to emphasise her words.
"Okay, okay," I laugh, shaking my head. It's bad enough that I've been thinking a hell of a lot too much about the whole Erin situation- I really need to get my mind off things.
"So, enough about my lovelife. Aren't I supposed to be asking you that, Éclair?"
Claire giggles just a little into her hand, and her cheeks seem to flush.
"Aha!" I grin at her, twirling my scissors around expertly on my fingers (I spent ages teaching myself to do that. Why? Why the hell not? It looks badass.) "So, apparently someone has got a craving for some delicious Éclair, hmm?"
Claire rolls her eyes, but the smile doesn't leave her face. I glance over my shoulder and see that my next client is giving me a dirty look, as if I'm supposed to be ready and waiting for her over ten minutes before her actual appointment starts anyway.
I'm shit at multitasking, but okay, multitasking it is. I try to still converse with Claire as I dry her hair. She tells me about this girl who frequents the café she works at, which is a totally adorable cliché and I tell her that, making her snort. The girl always asks for 'the biggest chocolate cupcake in the case' and chats to her while Claire waits tables. Claire informs me with a small smile that they exchanged numbers recently, discussing meeting up for coffee... in a different café, apparently.
"But I don't know if she wants to get to know me just as friends," Claire emphasises the last word with a smile. "I mean, it's kind of difficult to know with girls, right? I mean, if a guy asks for my number, it usually means they want to go on a date. But I don't even know if she's into girls."
"Well, whoever chocolate cupcake girl is, I'm sure that she likes you." I mean, how could you NOT like Claire? "You should go for it, girl."
Claire laughs at this, shaking her head. "Brendon, I hate to buy into the camp hairdresser stereotype, but sometimes you really do fit the mould."
Just to amuse her, I strike a feminine pose, flicking my hair back from my face like a shitty version of a Pantene ad.
"Oh, Gee, Miss Claire, I don't know what you're talking about," I gush, in the best impression of a 'white girl' voice that I can do, then break out laughing just a moment after Claire does. They say laughter is contagious- and Claire's laughter is especially catchy.
"Chocolate cupcake girl and Éclair," I muse as I flick the blowdryer off, Claire's hair dry now and almost complete. "That sounds very... sweet."
She lets out a light laugh, and I grin.
"Quite a delectable relationship." She adds with a playful grin. "We'd be a couple good enough to eat, hmm?"
I realise that now, I have the weird mental image of Claire walking hand-in-hand with an actual chocolate cupcake. I really hope Claire somehow manages to get a picture of this girl, so I can get a better mental image than a dessert.
Claire's hair is finished now, and I'm pretty damn proud of how it turned out, if I do say so myself. The girl has amazing hair to work with, after all. It's brighter now from the sun-kissed highlights, and her curls look fuller, less frizzy and more pronounced.
"So, did I meet your approval?" I tease, and Claire studies her reflection.
"Hmm... It's not hideous, I suppose," she sighs, but the smile tugging up the corner of her lips gives her away, and soon enough a beam breaks out across her face. "Thanks, Bren. Perfect as usual." She stretches up in the chair as I unclip the synthetic cape from her neck, before turning and giving me a hug, which I happily accept. I've always been one for hugs- there are some guys out there who have the stupid as fuck belief that if you hug someone, it makes you less manly. Yet look at me- I love hugging people, and yet I'm still extremely manly, aren't I? Actually, don't answer that.
"What would I do without you?" she laughs as she pulls away, looking over her shoulder once again to admire her freshly retouched hair.
"Go to Supercuts?" I tease her, nudging her with my elbow playfully. She swats my hand away with a laugh, and her heels click on the salon tiles as she crosses over to the counter. While she pays, I clean up my station, preparing for the next customer who looks very pissed off- good lord, I'm one minute late for her appointment! How will she ever cope???
I turn to wave Claire goodbye, or maybe even suggest getting coffee sometime soon, but when I turn she's not at the door like I expected; she's about six inches away, and I jump.
"What, scared of my ugly face?" Claire pouts jokingly, before holding up a hand, twiddling a slip of paper between her fingers. I stare at it, confused.
"What's that?" I try to reach for it, but she holds it away, shaking her head.
"I'm giving you your tip," she explains with a smile, and for a second I think the paper's supposed to be the tip until she pulls a twenty from her pocket and shoves it in the waistband of my jeans, as if I'm a stripper or something. Not that I mind.
"That's too much..." I begin to protest automatically, but apparently Claire won't hear of it.
"Bren, you totally earned more than that," she smiles at me. "Besides, you're my friend..."
"Only because you give such good tips," I tease her, and Claire rolls her eyes, huffing and pretending to be annoyed.
"Shut it, Urie, or I won't give you your second tipat all," she chuckles, shaking her head. My eyes widen and I waggle my eyebrows, wondering what she's referring to.
"Okay, okay. Claire, I love you very much... now gimme the tip." I make a grab for the piece of paper she's holding, and she rolls her eyes but hands it over pretty willingly, curious as to whatever this tip is. It turns out to be...
"Paramount Movie Theatre?" I read aloud. That's all it is, the name of a Theatre in Claire's pretty, curly writing, besides an address. I'm not... disappointed, as such, because I don't actually know what I was expecting, but I'm certainly confused as hell. Why's Claire giving me this?
"Wow... thanks!" I smile at her widely, hoping she'll fall for my bluff and think I understand.
She's too smart, obviously, and rolls her eyes again, unconvinced.
"I hear there are some really great movies on at around 6 oclock in... three days' time?" The grin on her face looks almost malicious, and I get the sense that she is, for lack of a less stupid and cliché term, plotting something. "If you're interested... show up at oh, say, quarter to six? I mean, you don't have to... but if you want, I think you might really get on with one of the girls working there."
It takes me a moment, then it clicks and I feel my eyebrow arch up my forehead. I swear to God, I don't even do it deliberately half the time- my eyebrows just go wherever the hell they please.
"Does her name begin with E, perhaps?" I ask Claire, who taps the side of her nose.
"It might do."
I smirk a little at Claire's clear matchmaking intentions, then frown a little as I fiddle with the paper. "But... isn't showing up at her work kind of stalking her?" I have no intention of being an obsessed creep. Yeah, maybe I do like Erin, but that doesn't mean I'm going to start following her around... hell, no. Claire, however, shakes her head.
"Of course not, Bren," she snorts. "This is... just this once, yeah? I'm not encouraging you to always follow her around or anything. But I really think you should talk to her, maybe in a less intimidating setting than a date?" She taps my shoulder, and one of her bright, doe eyes closes in a wink. "Think about it."
Then she's gone, bouncing out of the salon and I stare after her for a few moments, thinking.
Well... I'd like to talk to Erin again. And since Claire assures me this isn't stalking if I go to her theatre once... It can't hurt, can it?
--
Another Brendon POV chapter comin' up next. What do you think of this, by the way? I'm kind of nervous as to how I portray him, in case I do a really crappy job lol. It's kinda hard to try and write in a different voice after getting used to Erin's.
Also... what did you think of the new Panic! music video? Certainly, ah, unusual ;P