Pretty. (Frerard, Petekey, Ryden, Peterick)

29: I'm Not Sorry At All

Brendon was supposed to hate lying.

Brendon was supposed to utterly despise liars with every ounce of his being.

And most of all, Brendon wasn't supposed to be a hypocrite.

But he was.

And there just far too little he could do about that by this point: he'd already tripped and fallen and the bottom of the pit was just a fate he'd have to accept, but for now, for now until Ryan found out, it was just free-fall, and maybe that was even the worst part.

He was on edge, always, and especially in the presence of anyone that mattered in the slightest, and Jamia's little discovery hadn't helped his situation in the slightest, and surely the 'good' thing to do would be just confessing to both Ryan and Sarah, and letting them decide whether they should forgive him or not.

But as he soon discovered, Brendon Urie was not a 'good' person - of course what made a good person was always susceptible to opinion, but cheating on your boyfriend didn't make the list just about any way you looked at it.

And it was just this aforementioned discovery that led Brendon to find himself on Ryan Ross' doorstep, once again: hair messy in the back, and smelling just a little too much like girl - a certain girl, who worked at the comic store and played in an all girl punk band with Jamia fucking Nestor.

Ryan had been far too caught up in Patrick to notice, and that was how it always was and would be, and for once, just maybe, that worked for Brendon, and amidst this mess, maybe, just if he skewed his morals enough, Brendon was allowed to make this work for him.

Either that or he was becoming increasingly accustomed and almost scarily comfortable with the idea of lying - to his boyfriend, his girlfriend, his friends, himself, and perhaps even the whole damn world.

"You took your time." Ryan noted, opening the door after the doorbell had been ringing for a good thirty seconds, but whatever, Brendon was far too guilt ridden to be all that bothered.

Brendon shrugged it off, swallowing the truth, as he really doubted 'yeah, I was fucking this girl - my girlfriend' would have gone down all that well. "Bus was late."

"You don't even catch the bus. You hate buses."

Okay, maybe the lying thing wasn't working out quite as well as planned.

"Maybe I changed my mind - I don't have to love or hate something for the entirety of my life." Brendon decided that a vague, yet philosophical response was the best way to counter this one - it meant nothing, but Ryan would spend just long enough looking into it to ensure that he forgot about the fact that Brendon had even lied to him in the first place.

Genius.

Entirely morally fucked up.

But, still, genius.

And really the above could be applied to Brendon's relationship with Sarah: twice the fucking, and two entirely different styles - genius. Of course, he didn't exactly like this situation, and he hadn't found himself stuck in it on account of his sexdrive, alone: hormones, confusion, and sexuality were all much to blame.

It was just the reality of how serious things were getting that had Brendon's stomach doing backflips as he made his way into Ryan's bedroom: they were alone - Ryan had even thought to get Patrick out of the way for a few hours on account of Brendon, and fuck.

It was more than flirting at this point, Brendon and Sarah, so much more.

And that was entirely the fault of vodka shots and that night when Sarah's parents were out of town for like the first time in forever, and she even neglected to tell the band for practice space, just for Brendon. Just so she could kiss Brendon, and tell him how she felt - that had been the plan at least, but when excessive amounts of alcohol suddenly became involved, things went just a little further than that.