Always and Forever

He was in four of my six classes, History, English, Maths and Homeroom. He always arrived late and smelt heavily of tobacco and exhausts smoke and an espresso in hand. He always wore the same leather jacket with a pair of skinny jeans either black or dark wash denim and a t-shirt with some sort of writing across it; I had never been able to look at him long enough to take in what it actually said. He sat in the back row, right hand desk for every class and spent most classes in complete silence but even having him in the class made me feel uncomfortable. I never had to deal with that feeling for too long. Usually, about thirty five minutes into class he would leave and the teacher never questioned where he was going.

If it was any other person they would’ve been asked a million and one questions about where they were going.

But this wasn’t any other person.

This was Brendon Urie.

I wasn’t stalking him; I just seemed to subconsciously notice everything he did. I was curious about him. I asked questions to the girls but was always met with the same response: a shrug of their petite shoulders and the usual ‘it’s just the way things are.’

It was lunchtime and we were sitting in the prime table of the cafeteria, I noticed that he sat alone eating his lunch, no one dared to go near him
.
“Has anyone ever tried to talk to him” I asked curiously as I bit into my tuna sandwich.

“Talked to who?” Jessica replied in a tired tone.

“Brendon, Brendon Urie.”

Anna cut in sighing loudly “Can’t you just quit it with the damn questions over him for god sake. In life, there are people like us and then there are people like him. People like us don’t talk to people like him, heck” she said waving a hand carelessly at a group of computer nerds who were walking past “Not even they talk to people like him. Just leave it there okay? I never want this to be bought up again. Understand?”

She had snapped. The past two weeks of consistent questions had pushed the unflappable Anna Cummings over the edge. I nodded my head in reply, terrified of being exiled from the group. I looked over at him; he was twirling the metal knife that he had received with his lunch in between his fingers, a manic look on his face.

***

“He’s just so urrgh, I don’t even know what it is he’s just so...weird” I said finally venting my feelings to Carla that afternoon “it’s like, there’s weird and then there’s him. He’s just so...”

“Weird” Carla finished for me “Yeah, you’ve only told me that about a thousand times in the last half an hour.”

“I’m sorry; I don’t even know why I’m thinking about him so much.”

“Is he hot at least?” she asked.

“He’s seventeen; don’t you think that’s slightly pedophileish?”

She rolled her eyes “Not for me, for you.”

I thought for a second, I had never thought of Brendon Urie as hot, he’s always been the freak. I don’t even think by the standards of my group the thought of Brendon Urie as hot would be allowed to cross my mind.

I thought about him, I had only seen his at two second glances; I was too scared to look at him for any longer. He had brown eyes; they were cold and hard looking. He was pale of average height and had short brown hair. He wasn’t exactly terrible looking but I had never thought of him as hot either.

“Hello! This is Brendon Urie we’re talking about here, suspected murderer and drug addict” I said loudly.

“Yeah, good point, stay away from him, no matter how hot he is.”

I smiled; Carla has always had a way of taking my mind off everything. She proceeded to tell me about her day, the major Casino executive who had come into the studio and given her his number. About the trophy wives who had come in with wall length portraits of themselves to get framed. This was a common part of the job, another part of it was to sit through their terribly boring conversations and act like you actually care about what they have to say.

Frank; Carla’s husband arrived later on in the afternoon. He usually worked down at the warehouse crafting all the magnificent frames. Today however he had bought a few in to mount up in the gallery. Two of the prints this time were mine.

It was just getting dark when we started bringing the prints from the truck into the studio I (of course) had moved the majority of the prints inside while Carla and Frank arranged them around the studio. It was amazing watching them work together to find the perfect place for each print. They were the type of couple that made you sick when you saw how perfect they were for each other but at the same time it made you depressed because it makes you want to have someone to love you as much as they love each other.

I quickly darted outside to grab the last two prints, my ones. Frank and Carla had decided that mine would go in the window; just one of the many advantages that came with working here. They were for sale at $130 each. The prints were massive and hard to carry but somehow I managed to get them out of the truck. I was crossing the wide footpath when I felt another body crash into me, knocking me to the ground. Immediately I threw my hands up in the air to protect the prints I spun around rapidly before falling to the ground landing roughly on my back.

I looked up to see the person who I had bumped into, it was him. My jaw dropped “I-I am s-so sorry” I croaked out. A million thoughts were running through my mind, one of the main ones being ‘oh shit, he’s gonna stab me now.’

“Yeah yeah yeah whatever” he said stuffing the prints back into my hands “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I watched him as he quickly walked down the street and mounted his motorbike kicking off at lightning speed. He was gone within seconds

That was my first encounter with Brendon Urie.