I Have Been Right All Along

SARA'S POV

“You can stay out here with us,” Hayley says to me as she turns around in her seat at a table set up for a meet and greet with a select number of fans. All three bands are having a combined meet and greet well before the show starts.

“I’ll get you a chair,” Zack, Panic at the Disco’s security guard, says to me before heading off, patting my shoulder lightly.

Mere seconds passed before he comes back into the room, holding a chair and leading Panic out to the tables.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a seat in the chair in between Panic’s table and Paramore’s table. Incidentally, Brendon takes a seat to my left while Hayley is seated on the right.

“Won’t this be a little awkward with me sitting in the midst of you famous people?” I ask Hayley, using air quotes for the last two words.

“You can always scoot your chair back there,” she replies, pointing behind her. “Or you could sign people’s stuff; they might think you’re part of the band or something.”

I laugh, “No way. I’m not signing anyone things. I’m not important.”

“You’re important to me!” Hayley shrieks, hugging me sideways.

“Oh thank you, best friend!” I say in a high pitched voice, clapping my hands once.

I look to my left for Brendon, who was just sitting there a minute ago, deciding I should greet him and be nice, but he isn’t there.

My breathing picks up slightly for some unknown reason, and I anxiously look around for him. I twist around in my seat, grabbing onto the back of it, spotting Brendon and Zack talking about five feet away from me. I turn back around and try to discreetly hone in on the conversation the two of them exchange.

“You just need some water. Let me go grab one for you,” Zack says.

“No, I’ll be fine. Just wait until this is done,” Brendon mumbles back.

“Are you sure? Because it’s really no big deal. You really need some water,” Zack asks back in a confident voice, lined with concern.

“No, I’m fine,” Brendon replies, straining to make himself sound okay, but failing.

“When was the last time you drank water?”

“I don’t remember,” Brendon replies after a pause.

“Well go sit down. After this, you are drinking some water. If your heart rate starts to pick up and if you feel extremely tired, let me know,” Zack replies as he walks Brendon back to his seat.

I look over to Brendon as he nods, taking in a deep breath, blinking his eyes a few times, trying to blink away the fatigue.

I continue to stare, taking in his slightly reddened face, his tired eyes and unsteady body; unsteady even as he sits. He doesn’t look well and, like Zack suggested, looks in dire need of some water … or sleep. He’s probably dehydrated since, for the past few weeks, all he’s mainly been drinking off stage, and even on stage, is alcohol of some form. I’ve seen him chug waters every now and then, but not for the past two days or so.

Worry sets in. I can feel it start at the pit of my stomach mere moments before the doors opened and in poured about fifty fans, hyper, eager, and nervous to meet the famous people I have been mingling with that, to me, seem quite like normal people. Which they really are just normal people, they just have something they share with tons of people, making them well-known and ‘famous’.

After a while of getting stared at by random fans and confusion as to whether or not I’m famous, I decided to move to the back, out of the way, with Zack.

Brendon seemed a little off; less talkative, less smiley. Several fans asked him if he was alright and he replied with faint smiles, reassuring them that he was okay. Of course it was obvious he was being a liar. He looked terrible. Not only did his face get redder, but I could feel the heat radiating off his body as I sat about a foot and a half away from him.

I stood in the back with Zack and watched the fans interact with my friends. It was very odd to me that so many people look up to them, yet I’m very happy for their success. ‘

“How was Brendon doing?” Zack asks me, nudging my side lightly as he keeps his arms crossed.

I shrug, “Honestly? I don’t think he should be out here.”

“Me neither, but that kid’s stubborn,” he says with a slight chuckle.

Just then, Brendon gets out of his chair and stumbles toward Zack and me. Jon, who was sitting next to Brendon, looks over his shoulder at us worriedly.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Zack asks, taking a hold of Brendon’s upper arms to steady him before turning to me, asking me to go backstage and get a water bottle. I nod and quickly run off.

Less than a minute later, I return with a water bottle, but realize it’s not needed; Brendon’s passed out of the floor, Zack leaning over him yelling out for someone to get the paramedics.

The fans are all in frenzy lined up against the furthest wall away, their worried glances and hushed talking replacing their eager nervousness.

The paramedics from the venue rush in, immediately making their way towards Brendon. The bands stay seated at their tables all turned around in some way watching the debacle. Brendon wakes up and rolls over onto his side, groaning and holding his head. I stand at the back, far enough away so the paramedics can do their job, still grasping onto the water bottle.

“Lie on your back,” one of the paramedics, a thin, brunette man, says to Brendon, pressing down firmly on his shoulders to keep him in place.

Brendon takes his hands off his face and breathes rapidly.

“Take deep breaths and let them out slowly,” the paramedic instructs, keeping his fingers on Brendon’s wrist to feel his pulse.

“Does someone have a water bottle?” another paramedic, this time a blonde woman asks loudly.

Zack looks back towards me, “Sara,” he says, motioning for me to come over. I hold out the water bottle to him and he unscrews it.

“He’s dehydrated. We need to take him in and get him on an IV,” the male paramedic suggests.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Brendon says, sitting up quickly. He immediately places his hands on the ground to steady himself from the lightheadedness he felt from sitting up too fast combined with the dehydration.

“It’d really be best if we took you in,” the man says, crouching next to Brendon. The man’s name tag reads Percy. The stern look he gives Brendon is enough to convince anyone to go into the hospital, but not Brendon; he firmly stands his ground.

“I have a show to play tonight. I can just drink a bunch of water and get better.”

“It won’t happen quickly. You really need to be resting and on an IV,” Percy says, giving Brendon a stern look.

“What have you been drinking recently?” Percy asks.

Brendon pauses before answering quietly, “Just liquor.”

“Just liquor,” Percy says, raising his eyebrows as his eyes widen. Brendon nods.

“When was the last time you had any water?”

“Definitely not in the past few days, maybe more than three days?” Brendon answers, questioning himself.

“I think you need to sit this one out. You probably shouldn’t play tonight.”

Zack hands Brendon the water bottle and Brendon chugs it, emptying it in seconds. He hands it back to Zack who hands it back to me before helping Brendon up.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, his face still reddened and his body slightly shaky. He takes in a deep breath then smiles.

“Let’s finish this,” Brendon says, acting as if nothing happened.

“Seriously?” Ryan questions as Brendon takes a seat at the table, still not looking well.

“Yeah,” he answers simply, grabbing his Sharpie, waiting for the meet and greet to continue.

I raise my eyebrows and glance over at Hayley, who just shrugs her shoulders.

“After this, I guess, just give him a lot of water, maybe some ice packs and cool rags to cool his body down. Have him rest, don’t let him on stage for more than fifteen to twenty minutes or he’ll just pass out again,” Percy tells Zack, giving him an unsatisfied look.

“And if that happens, we will be taking him to the hospital and getting him on an IV immediately,” he finishes, leading him and the woman out of the room.

Zack walks over to Brendon, kneeling down next to him.

“No show tonight,” Zack says quietly, but firmly, his eyes wide as he stares at Brendon.

Brendon stares back for a few moments before wetting his lips. A grin spreads across his face.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, tapping the Sharpie on the table as he crosses his ankles under the table.

Zack stares at him before responding.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says before instructing for the meet and greet to continue.

Watching Panic at the Disco perform the first set of the night on the sidelines is really hard for me. I can tell Brendon still isn’t well enough to play tonight and be himself. It’s so obvious that he’s trying to hide how sick he’s feeling.

He’s not as hyper as he typically is on stage. Tonight Brendon stands around his microphone and only moves from that spot to switch guitars or bend down to take a drink of water.

They only get about three songs in before Brendon finally calls it quits, apologizing to the crowd for his lackluster performance, but assures him that he is okay and will be okay. He promises them a better show next time they’re in town.

As the band heads toward me off stage, I overhear the other guys’ plans to go out tonight so I decide to offer my help to Brendon, figuring he wouldn’t be going out.

As he walks past me, I grab his elbow, causing him to turn towards me. I give him a small, toothless smile as turns around, grinning at me.

“Hey, Sara,” he says. I let go of his elbow.

“Hey, you’re not going out tonight are you?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

“Um, I-I probably shouldn’t,” he replies, scratching his head as he lets out an airy laugh.

“Well if you need company, I’d be glad to hang out,” I say with slight hope.

At first, I can’t read his facial expression, but it quickly softens and a small smile stretches out.

“That’d be great. Just meet me on my bus in about an hour, I’ve got to shower,” he says, taking a few steps as he walks backwards. I smile and nod at him and he quickly turns around and jogs off to the dressing room, and, of course, his pants slowly slide down and red becomes the color of the day.

“You’re what?” Josh asks me, the pitch in his voice rising considerably.

“I said I’m hanging out with Brendon tonight on his bus,” I say calmly.

“Why? You know he’s probably going to just drink all night.”

“He won’t be drinking if I hang out with him. Plus, the rest of the guys are going out and he doesn’t have anyone to hang out with.”

Josh stares at me from the couch in the dressing room, looking quite pissed.

“What’s your problem, anyway, Josh?” I ask, putting my hand on my right hip, leaning all my weight onto my left foot as my hip pops out to the left.

“I just don’t think Brendon’s a good influence.”

“Well guess what, this whole thing Brendon is doing is partially my fault,” I say, my voice getting louder.

“And I feel like I need to help him out of this,” I finish, not allowing him any time to respond fully.

“Sara, it’s not your fault and you shouldn’t feel like it’s up to you to pull him back up on his feet,” he says, his voice back to its normal level.

“It is partially my fault, Josh,” I respond in a mocking tone.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, breaking eye contact with me as he grabs his laptop.

I remain standing in the dressing room staring at Josh while he ignores me for a few more minutes.

“Josh,” I say, sounding somewhat whiny, as I take a few steps towards him, standing in front of him. He keeps his gaze on his laptop screen.

“Josh,” I repeat, grabbing onto the lid of his laptop, pushing it down far enough to where he is unable to see the screen. He finally looks back up at me so I continue.

“Don’t be mad at me. I’m just trying to help him out.”

“I’m not mad at you,” his says, his voice monotone.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I say, letting go of the lid of his laptop.

“I’m not mad at you,” he repeats slowly, his voice no longer monotone.

“Good because you really don’t have a valid reason,” I say, smiling at him. He smiles back and lifts the lid of his laptop, returning his attention to the screen.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, shaking his head. I turn around and leave the dressing room, ready to meet up with Brendon back on Panic at the Disco’s bus.

“What movie did you pick?” Brendon asks me as I take a seat next to him on the U-shaped couch in the dark back lounge of the bus so he is seated to my right.

“The Mist,” I say, laughing as I look at his face for a reaction. His eyes widen and he takes in a deep breath.

“Seriously?” he asks quickly. I nod, looking back at the screen.

“This movie freaks me out,” he replies. I can still feel him staring at me so I look over.

“Good,” I say meanly, but laugh afterwards as his bottom lip sticks out and his eyes make him look like a small child being denied a stuffed teddy bear.

“You are so mean to me,” he replies, turning his attention to the movie. We sit rather close to each other. Close enough, at least, to where I can feel the heat radiating off his arm, but not like earlier at the meet and greet, though. His body temperature has returned to normal.

We sit like that for a while, Brendon’s body slowly sliding down so his back is now on the seat of the couch and his eyes look droopy and his breathing is shallow.

I reach over and rest my hand on his right shoulder, which is furthest away from me. His eyes quickly dart to mine and I motion for him to rest his head on my lap. He gladly accepts and scoots his body back on the couch, lying down on his left side, as his head plops onto my thigh. His arms fold in front of his chest and his legs bend at the knees. He kind of looks like a small child, which I think is cute.

“We can stop the movie if you want,” I suggest softly, running my fingers through his thick, dark hair.

“It’s up to you. I’m probably going to fall asleep,” he answers, his voice sounding rough and quiet.

I grab the remote, which is sitting next to me on my left, and stop the movie and turn the TV off, leaving the dim golden lights on the ceiling to be the only lights on, casting a warm glow on our bodies. I continue to run my fingers through his hair for a few more minutes before deciding to ask him what’s been on my mind for days.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask quietly, sliding my right hand, which is entangled within his hair, to his shoulder.

“Sure,” he mumbles, not sounding quite awake, but I go ahead with my question.

“What made you drink so much?” I ask, feeling him stop his breathing for a second before shifting his body for a moment.

“I mean, I could understand a few occasional drinks, but I think you really let it get too far,” I continue.

He groans, but doesn’t answer, bringing his right hand up, rubbing his fingers on his closed eyes.

“Was it because of what I said to you?”

“What did you say to me?” he asks dully.

“I don’t remember exactly, but it was about feeling independent and being in a relationship and how those two things should go together.”

He pauses before answering, letting out a sigh as he does so.

“I guess, but I mean you … you aren’t the only reason why I did it,” he flops his hand back down in front of his chest with his other hand.

“Well I’m sorry I made you do that, my intentions were the complete opposite of –“

“It’s not your fault, I made the choice to do it and I have my reasons why, though I’m not quite sure what they are,” he says, laughing.

“You don’t know why you did it?” I ask, not amused, really. Brendon sits up, slumping next to me with his shoulders sagging and his head hanging slightly. I watch him, waiting for him to say something, anything.

Quickly, he turns to face me.

“Look,” he begins, letting out a breath. “I don’t want you to think it was solely your fault, but what you said to me made me want to get rid of all the things I wanted to do independently without being committed. The things I was doing were things that girlfriends typically hate their boyfriends being so caught up with and I just wanted to get it out of my system is all.”

“That’s stupid,” I reply, blinking at him.

“I know.”

I turn my head, staring at the blank TV. I knew it was my fault he did it, but hearing it from him makes me feel really terrible.

“But I’m right,” he concludes confidently.

I quickly face him, my face scrunching up.

“But you’re right? How are you right? Getting drunk constantly and eventually not drinking anything but liquor causing you to become really sick from dehydration is right? Brendon, you have to be some kind of messed up to think that’s right.”

He doesn’t answer, just stares blankly back at me.

“I’m not trying to lecture you or anything, I’m just saying it wasn’t really the smartest thing to do. Go do what you want, but I got really worried about you and knowing that I was part of the cause really sucks.”

“You’re not part of the cause,” he says, trying to sound convincing.

“I was. What I said to you sparked some sort of flame within your pretty little head and you went off and did something drastic to prove something.”

“Thank you,” he says, smiling, as he grabs his head. I roll my eyes, allowing just a small smirk to surface.

“But seriously, it’s not your fault. Drinking so much was just my immediate reaction to what you said and I’m really sorry for making you worry about me. It was purely something I had to do for myself and I’ve learned from it.”

“Learned what.”

“That it was dumb,” he smiles.

I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows, motioning for him to continue.

“And I like you more than I thought,” he blurts out as he stares at me intensely and I return his stare, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, getting up from the couch and heads toward the door. The only thing I can do is watch him go.

A few moments pass, eventually allowing my body leads me out of the room to follow him. I find him in the kitchen of the bus, leaning against the counter and eating a banana. On the counter next to him sits a freshly opened Red Bull.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, chewing a large bite of the banana. I let out a giggle, covering my mouth as a smile spreads across my face.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I think I shouldn’t have mentioned that I like you more than I thought,” he laughs, taking another bite of the banana, finishing it off.

“No, I’m glad you told me.”

He stares at me, swallowing the banana, letting the peel dangle from his fingers.

“I really like you and I think that if you get better, we can make something happen if that’s what you want.”

He nods at me, letting a toothless smile appear. I smile back and we stare at each other for a few moments. Seemingly at the same rate that I feel my smile begin to slowly fade, his face nears mine. My eyes occasionally glance down at his full lips, aching to have them pressed against my own lips. I step closer, standing mere inches in front of him.

His lips part slightly and I can smell the aroma of the sweet banana emitting from his mouth. I tilt my chin up and turn my head slightly to the right. I grab the banana peel from his hand and place it on the counter and he immediately grabs the back of my neck gently, pulling my head forward, closer to his face. His other hand, his right hand, rests on the small of my back, lightly pulling my body closer to his, if that’s even possible.

My hands rest on his chest as our bodies press against each other and our lips finally meet just as I close my eyes. His lips taste sweetly of banana. He lets a breath out of his nose and quickly repositions his lips onto mine. I lick my lips to taste the banana, inadvertently licking Brendon’s lips as well as deepening the kiss.

He parts his lips the moment I lick my lips, taking it as a hint to start making out, which then happens. I let a breath out of my nose, not realizing I was holding my breath, as Brendon’s tongue begins to explore my mouth, as mine does his. After a few moments of this, I let out an unexpected, quiet moan, causing Brendon to laugh, pulling out of the kiss. He wraps his arms around me and I slide my hands off his chest and around his back, resting my head onto his chest.

“We probably shouldn’t let that get too far,” he says quietly, surprising me with his willingness to hold back. I’m not sure that even I would have held back. I think I like him more than I had originally thought I did, just as Brendon said to me about his feelings for me.