Flipping Coins

Recycling banners--never hurt anyone. This one's by this lovely individual.

The bleak blotches that were once transparent and full of volume and shape streaked against my car’s windows in a slovenly mess of rivers. The outside bright neon lights that advertised kinky club names and expensive casinos transformed the color of the rain droplets, morphing the limpid pearls into a creek of intense rainbow. Fog climbed the edges of the glass blockades--a boundary separating me from the cold Vegas night.

My eyes flew from one watery window to the next, scanning the area as though I were a patrolling officer of the law searching for drug dealers on the run. But it was not mindless criminals I was searching for--it was a depressed (possibly suicidal) rock star. My best friend--Brendon Urie.

I didn’t know where to look for him, or even what I expected him to look like. I didn’t know what he was wearing, or where he was going. All I knew was that I had to find him. I had to fix things and make them right before he did something to himself--something horrible and irreversible.

I searched for three whole hours, each and every part of Sin City seen through my troubled, azure eyes that were practically popping from their sockets. I had one more block to go--one more block of hope, before I could truthful claim that I had searched the entire city of Las Vegas (not including the suburb part of the metropolitan, either.)

I turned the corner, eyes wide, ready to meet with his tiny frame, and saw…nothing. The only individual inhabiting the street was a sleeping hobo, tucked underneath a holey umbrella with a Chihuahua cuddling into the old man’s chest.

My eyes were tearing up, but no tears had actually spilled yet. They were tears of hopelessness, fear, anger, loss, and so many other emotions that I didn’t even know how to identify.

I had let Brendon get away, but this time, I don’t think I could get him back. I had wasted the miracle of him surviving once. How could I have ever been so careless as to let it happen again?

Just as I was about to undergo another ugly breakdown as I turned the corner to a block I had just checked, my eyes caught a flicker of movement coming from the door of some late-night bar. Focusing, I now saw the exiting figure plainly--a hunched-over man wearing a thin gray t-shirt, plain blue jeans hanging loosely on his lean lower body. He was stalking lazily down the street, swigging drinks every now and then from a bottle wrapped in a brown, tattered paper bag.

Was this man Brendon? Maybe it was just another false alarm--like the look-alikes I had passed in the other parts of the city. Karma was supposed to be against me, anyways. It would be too coincidental that I just magically found Brendon the moment I was about to give up. Fate and karma would never allow that kind of chance to fly for me.

Despite my pondering, denying thoughts, a spark of jubilance shot throughout my body, and I instantly pulled my tiny car over, narrowly avoiding a collision with the street corner. Without another thought, I yanked the door open and shot out into the sudden downpour of rain, darting to catch up with the stumbling man.

My clothes and hair were instantly immersed in a wet mess, shriveling from the deluge of rain. My flip-flops almost made me trip, since I had stepped straight into a puddle of sleek mud, but I pried my feet free of the dicey gunk and trotted forward, keen to seize my suspect’s attention.

“Hey!” I yelled, my voice cracking slightly. The hammering shower of rain overpowered my voice tenfold, and I had to scream just to catch the man’s earshot.

“HEY!” I screeched, stopping in the middle of the street to give my vocal cords my undivided focus.

That had done it.

The man turned around--slowly--and watched me for a moment. Then his eyes glinted in the obscurity at the sight of me--screaming to him in my soaken-through, off-white dress and mud-filled shoes.

“Emie?” Brendon’s somewhat rough voice asked, disbelief and awe mingling to create his astonished tone. I casted him a watery smile and nodded energetically, motioning for him to come to me. His eyes were as vivid as ever as he bellowed with confidence, “Emie! Oh my god. Emie!”

Brendon dropped the bottle of alcohol that his hand had been glued to as he dashed forward to meet me. As soon as he was within reach, Brendon enveloped his gangly arms around my round waist and hugged me to him. Nuzzling into my neck, he whispered my name several times, making my insides squirm a little. I embraced him with equal affection, cuddling into his collar while relief and some other--shall we say--positive emotions washed over me.

When Brendon drew back, leaving his hands on my waist, he smiled at me and laughed quietly. “Why are you crying?” Brendon questioned with concern, his contagious smile still alight upon his beautiful face as he wiped a vast tear developing in my eye.

I hadn’t realized that I was sobbing until he said this, but I couldn’t stop even if I tried to. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly, breath ratchet and unstable as I shrugged my shoulders, tilting a little in his arms.

Brendon smiled warmly at me, gripping my hips tighter. His eyes fell back down to my body--my thin white dress now gray, wet, and depressed looking. He kept his eyes glued to my outfit as he asked his next question, “What’s with the dress?”

I didn’t want to answer, but I knew I had to.

“I was on a date when Ryan called,” I explained gently, hoping the torrent of rain had overpowered my soft announcement.

Brendon--with his impeccable hearing--had, of course, heard me, and he met my eyes at the mention of this. “With who? That Jordan kid?” Brendon queried, the darkness back in his eyes and his jaw rigid.

I nodded, swallowing hard and playing with a loose thread on the arm of Brendon’s t-shirt.

“You don’t like him,” I stated, knowing there was no need to confirm it, because it was obvious that it was true.

“No,” Brendon answered plainly. “I don’t.”

I met his intense eyes again and rambled quickly, “And that’s okay! I’m okay with that. I can find someone else, if he bothers you that much. I know that it’s the least I can do. You mean a lot to me, and if getting rid of some guy is the answer to keeping you in my life, then I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to do that because I--I love you, Bren.”

Brendon’s eyes were suddenly radiating again, and he stared back at me with this wonder dominating his handsome facial features. I could see the tiredness and stress weighting down in his sunken eyes. I knew I had put him through so much, and I was more than happy to get rid of Jordan if that meant that I could just have my old healthy, happy Brendon back again.

Well, I wouldn’t happily rid of my boyfriend. I did, in fact, have a heart. I’m just saying that I would eventually get over it with Brendon by my side.

When Brendon didn’t respond but simply kept staring, I continued with my monologue, anxious and drastically needing Brendon to stay with me so that my speech came out in sobs, “And Brendon, I’m s-so s-sorry! I’m so s-stupid for doing this to you! You don’t deserve this from m-me! You deserve someone better than me as your b-best friend, and I’m s-so sorr---“

Before I could finish my stammering, dire discourse, before I could really calculate what was going on, Brendon leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

My body reacted the complete opposite way I expected it to; a state of tranquility captivated everything inside of me--from my shaking bones to my jumpy nerves. My hands instantly found his messy, wet hair--tangling my fingers into the rich and thick jungle growing on his scalp. My eyes closed as my lips moved in sync with his smooth ones.

It started out sweet and innocent, and ended up an entirely different way.

Brendon’s lips became desperate against mine, smothering themselves helplessly against my mouth. Something sleek and pliable slipped inbetween my fumbling lips, and I felt Brendon’s tongue travel throughout my mouth, scanning everything from my front teeth to my gums. His hands clutched at my sides crucially, clasping my frame to his in a way that sent his and my skin scorching in a manner of seconds.

He was so good at this.

And when my oxygen tank was almost completely exhausted, I had to pull away from his magical lips to gasp into the crisp, humid night air.

But Brendon didn’t stop there.

His full lips moved down to tenderly kiss at my throat, sweeping to the left side of my neck automatically. His fingers were digging into my hips, keeping me from running away from this unbelievable dream. And then, quite without warning, he bit into the skin of my throat, somehow managing to find my sweet spot on the first try.

A sound I didn’t recognize as my own reverberated from my diaphragm, and Brendon bit harder at my reaction. My nails clenched into Brendon’s skull, and I couldn’t believe that a simple nip at the neck could feel so wonderful.

“Brendon,” I cried breathlessly in a raspy voice. When he didn’t respond and continued nipping, I called louder, “Brendon!”

Brendon immediately ceased his actions and met my eyes.

“Emie, I’m sorry!” he instantly began, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have. But, god, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that, Ems. I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long---“

I shook my head, my chest still heaving and eyes as wide as Brendon’s. “Don’t apologize. Just…how about I just take you home. I--I need to think about this, you know? Give me some time.”

What are you thinking, Emie? I thought to myself as Brendon nodded compliment and let go of my waist. This is what you’ve wanted. You’ve dreamed about this happening for months now! Are you out of your mind?!

I ignored my irrational thoughts and led the way back to my car, back into the pouring rain which was, slowly but surely, slowing down to a light drizzle.

My car door was still open when I reached it, which led to me sitting on a soggy, wet seat--but I didn’t care. My thoughts were out of control, and my nails kept digging into my palms, trying to cause pain so I could tell if this really was a dream or not. It didn’t seem real.

As Brendon slipped into the passenger seat, I bit my lip and tried not to watch him. Unfortunately--when I bit my lip--I tasted him. God, even if there was a tinge of alcohol bittering the overwhelming goodness, he still tasted so good.

As soon as Brendon shut the door, I sped off--down the road to Brendon’s apartment only a few blocks away. My breathing finally settled, but my fingers were still jittery, and my focus was way out of whack. Brendon was resting his head against the window, staring ahead with an unreadable expression crossing his suave facial qualities.

It seemed like hours had passed before I was finally pulling into Brendon’s apartment. Of course--this particular night--the parking lot was deserted, and they had even turned the front lights off! Then again, it was 2 in the morning. But this was Vegas, for crying out loud! Since when does this city have a curfew?

I lurched the car to a stop and dared to move my wide eyes to glance up at Brendon. He was staring at me expectantly--a dazed look glazing his mischievously dark, wonderful eyes.

We stared at each other for more than a minute, listening to the drizzling rain beat against the top surface of my car. Radiant headlights of distant cars would fleetingly pass by in that time--illuminating Brendon’s sincere facial appearance with his fixed watch and dusky, radical eyes mirroring my own staring expression in the opaque, dilated pupils.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do.

A minute into this unconventional custom, I suddenly realized--with a vigorous jolt of my stomach--that Brendon wasn’t gazing into my enlarged eyes anymore. Instead, he was staring intensely at my lips.

I should have minded, I should have said something--but I didn’t. In fact, I did the stupidest thing I could do in my position--I stared back at Brendon’s lips just as longingly--if not more.

It must have hit both of us in that trivial seep of time--the dawning comprehension that we were both in a desperate need for one another--because we both hurdled forward at the exact same time, lips planting on the others fervently.

Brendon didn’t waste any time as he mounted me from the driver’s side, situating me underneath him--into the passenger seat. He leaned on top of me, unintentionally pressing his certain areas against my certain areas--which caused both of us to temporarily get distracted--throwing our heads back as we created loud versions of the sounds people make before they sneezed.

When we came down from the tiny elevated high we were in, I invitingly licked Brendon’s lips, and he responded by sucking in my bottom lip affectionately. He rested his hands on either side of the leather seat’s shoulders, clutching the aged leather with extra potency, while I seethed both of my hands in his mass of damp, thick hair.

After I cradled my legs around Brendon’s narrow waist, he must have known that I wasn’t going to turn back from whatever was about to go down between us. I knew I would love, regret, and reflect back on this moment for God knows how many times--but the degree of affection that Brendon was giving me halted my rational thinking capability, allowing my body to command my brain rather than the other way around.

And once this hooked onto Brendon’s realization, he took things farther--to the next step from simple fooling around activities.

And being Emie Brooks, there wasn’t a shot in hell that I would have enough courage to stop him--even if that was the right thing to do.