The Young and Lost Club

I had been ignoring Alex’s calls for the last three days. I had told everyone I felt sick and to leave me alone. If I wasn’t on stage, I was in my bunk, curled up into myself, feeling sick and disgusting and so confused I could barely handle it.
I knew I had to tell Alex. I couldn’t not. I wanted to be honest with him; it was the very least I could do. I just wasn’t sure what to say, or how to handle the situation. I didn’t think I could handle another person hating me, and I was absolutely positive Alex was going to hate me.
We were in Jacksonville, Mississippi now, and Taylor had opened the curtains on my bunk to ask if I wanted to go out to a movie and dinner with them, which I declined and he told me I had to eat something today. I hadn’t eaten much since that night either. I was falling back to the helpless and depressed Clark, all because of fucking Brendon Urie.
An hour later, I forced myself out of the bunk and took yet another shower, trying and failing to wash off the feeling of Brendon on me. I got dressed and headed for the Starbucks down the street from our bus, thinking maybe some caffeine would clear my head and help make some decisions. I sat for a while, reading the paper and doing the crossword, when I noticed someone standing next to me. I looked up.
Immediately, I made to stand up, “Bren-no, leave me alone!”
He held out his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace, Clark. I just wanted to have my say. Can you give me that.”
I clenched my jaw, furiously beating back the tears that had sprung into my eyes, and finally jerked my head in what vaguely resembled a nod, looking anywhere but him.
He sat down across from me, watching me as I plucked nervously at the napkin in my hands, shredding it into tiny snowflakes of paper. “I’m not here to upset you.”
“Funny how that seems to always happen,” I shot back.
He sighed reaching towards me, ignoring when I flinched as he took my left hand, pulling it towards him. I hadn’t exactly hidden my tattoo from him, it was a little hard in such close proximity, but I wondered if he’d ever fully looked at it before as he used the finger from his other hand to trace the design of it. After a long moment he spoke. “Do you remember when you told me you loved me for the first time, and I told you I had loved you since I first met you?”
“Yes,” I managed to choke out. “I remember it all.”
“I lied,” he said softly. “I liked you from the minute I first saw you. I thought you were funny and so, so, beautiful, but I didn’t fall in love with you until I saw you on stage, playing guitar. You were incredible, but you just looked so happy and flawless and confident and I knew that I was in trouble because there you were, my dream girl, standing right there and I never thought I’d have a chance. I don’t really know how to explain it any other way, but when you’re happy Clark, you glow. You light up everyone around you, and that was the first time I saw you happy, and I was just sitting there thinking, “oh my god, who is this person?” You were, or are, everything I’ve ever wanted in a soul mate, so much more than I ever realized even at that moment. Because you’re imperfections and your…complexities…you’re perfect. You are so perfect, and I hate that I didn’t tell you sooner how I felt and that I didn’t tell you every day after that, because…well, look at us now.
“I actually lied to you a lot. Because you always thought you were weaker than me, but the truth is that you scared me shitless. I never deserved a girl like you, and I knew that the second you got on that stage but I tried anyway. And I tried to pretend that I knew what was I was doing, because I was so desperate to get to know you. I had to know everything about you. And you made it so difficult. You would just drop these little bombs everywhere and every time I thought I had you pegged, that I had finally figured you out, you’d say something and I realized I’d only scratched the surface.
“That’s why I was so mad when you told me your mom died, because I was so proud of myself because I finally felt confident that I knew you, and then you threw me for a loop, a big one. And then the next night, I touched that scar on your shoulder and you told me about your boyfriends and how you were maybe raped, and I was so angry and sad because I loved you so fucking much at that point and I didn’t know that about you. I knew you had been hurt, but fuck, Clark, I never imagined how deep that hurt ran. I had no fucking clue.
“And I lied because I told you I was over it, but I never really was, and I’m so sorry I never told you that. I should have told you all of this then because I know you would have made it better, but instead I wanted to be fine with it so I said I was. I just felt…I felt so unbalanced. I had told you almost everything about myself, things I’d never told anyone before, things that t this day only you know, and I even assumed that you probably knew that I was so fucking in love with you, but were too nice to say anything until you felt it to. I’ve never met anyone that just…understood me like you do.
“So, the truth, Clark, the real truth is that you are so much more brave and strong then I could ever be. You need to know that. I never told you how I felt because I was too chicken to say it before you did. And the things you’ve been through…the fact that you aren’t bitter, that you still get up every day smiling, that you have been able to detach yourself from all the bad things in your life…I mean, you’re my hero, I could never do that.
“I’m not trying to create excuses. Because, really, what excuses do I have? I cheated on you with some sub-par girl because I was pissed off, and I got drunk, and for a second, just one stupid second I let myself believe what she was saying to me, and then it spiraled out of control. That’s the truth. And I hate myself for it. There hasn’t been a day since then that I haven’t woken up and wished I could go back and change it. I haven’t and I won’t forgive myself for it. You were the best thing I ever had in my life, and I know I fucked it up, and I have to live with that.
“And I’m sorry for how the other day panned out. It wasn’t my intention to do that, to you, to me, to anyone. But I can’t deny that I miss you. I miss you every fucking day. And I was mad, and I just…I want you. I want you back, and I want what we had, and I want to be able to touch you and hold you when I want, and I want our late night phone calls and our inside jokes and that feeling of pure happiness I had when I was with you..
“I know I can’t have that back. I know that this is my fault, and I’m trying to come to terms with that. What I want, more than anything though, is for you to be happy again. I can’t bear to see you like this and know that I was the cause. So, that’s what I wanted to say. I wanted to apologize. For everything. Because I want you happy. I want everyone to know how amazing you are. You deserve every happiness.”
He was crying now, and so was I, and he was still holding my hand, and I felt like I was going to shatter into a million pieces. He didn’t say anything else, just sat for a while holding my hand while we both cried. After maybe 15 minutes, he lifted up my hand and kissed it, then let go, stood up, and walked out the door.

|||
I couldn’t hold it off any longer. I wanted to put it all out of my head, to erase and forget that I had ever done it, but I couldn’t. I had to be fair to Alex; I had to do the decent thing, even if I wasn’t a decent person.
I sighed heavily, resigning myself to my fate, clicked in Alex’s number and held my cell phone up to my ear, my eyes shut tightly, knowing that hearing his voice would be painful.
“Clark!” He said happily, not even bothering to say hello. And sure enough his voice made my eyes screw up even more in pain.
“H-hey Alex,” I stuttered.
He didn’t notice. “How are you babe? I hadn’t heard from you in a while, thought you’d gotten lost or something.”
“Oh,” I said, sitting down on my bunk, drawing my legs up to my chest. “Yeah, bad cell reception, sorry.”
“No problem, you excited for the show tonight?”
“Oh sure,” I heard myself say, I thought I was going to throw up.
Alex was babbling away about how ATL had once played here and how awesome of a show it was, and how much fun the crowd had been. “Oh!” He exclaimed. “And Jack totally wrote something inappropriate on the green room wall, try and see if you can find it. I think it was like-“
“Alex, I slept with someone,” I blurted suddenly, and silent tears instantly ran down my face.
There was a long pause. The longest pause of my life and then Alex spoke in a rush, “Clark, babe, I don’t care, you know? I told you before you left that I didn’t care if you slept with someone else, that’s your right, as long as you know, you come back to me, and…I mean, it didn’t mean anything, right?”
The million dollar question.
And I had no answer. I sat there, choking on words that made no sense.
“Clark?” Alex said quietly, sounding serious for the first time. “Clark, tell me it didn’t mean anything.”
But I couldn’t. It was Brendon. How could that not mean something? I let out a sob.
“Cl-“ but he was cut off by a sudden burst of noise.
“If I had to fuck one of you it would be Zack.” I heard Jack Barakat say, as people burst into laughter.
“What the fuck?” Zack exclaimed.
“You’re all muscular and tall, I bet you’d make me feel real pretty and safe.” More laughter.
“Guys,” Alex snapped. “I’m on the phone, get out.”
“Who is it? Is it Lewis? LEWWWW!” Jack shrieked, it sounded like he was next to the phone. “When are we making babies?”
“Get the fuck out!” Alex bellowed.
“Don’t be jealous, just cause our babies would be so much hotter than yours would ever be-“
“Rian! Get them out of here!”
There was a long set of shrieks and static, and then sudden silence. “Sorry,” Alex said gruffly. “I think Jack drank a little too much.”
“Oh.” I said, dumbly.
There was a long pause, Alex obviously expected me to say something but I couldn’t. “Who was he?” Alex said softly.
I started crying harder. “Brendon,” I finally managed to get out. “I slept with Brendon.”
“Fuck.” Alex said. “Fuck!” I heard a crash, it sounded like he flipped something over.
“I am so sor-“
“Save it.” He said furiously. “You aren’t sorry, and you fucking lied to me! You said you didn’t love him anymore! Goddamnit, Clark! The one person! The one person who could have fucked this up with us!”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” I said, sobbing. “I never meant to hurt you Alex, please believe me, please forgive me! Please, I am so sorry!”
“I can’t talk to you right now,” he said, and I could hear his voice shaking, but whether it was from anger or sadness I couldn’t tell. “We both…we both have a lot to think about.”
“Alex, please-“ But he had already hung up. I slid out of my bunk and onto the floor, trying to collect myself. He had every right to be angry, he had every right to not want to talk to me, and he hadn’t said anything to really indicate we were over. Was that a good thing? Did I want Alex, despite the fact he would never be Brendon, he was still sweet, and kind, and loving, and he had never broken my heart.
And yet, with all the things Brendon had said this afternoon…he wanted me happy. I wanted me happy. I just wasn’t sure what path would get me there anymore.

|||

I walked outside to get some air. It was night time now, and the venue, one of the smaller ones, was filling up fast. I had never felt more tired in my life. I had kept trying to call Alex, only for him to eventually turn it off so it went straight to voicemail. I hadn’t been in the mood to perform tonight. I wanted to crawl in my bunk, and oh, I don’t know, just die so I wouldn’t have to be so fucking miserable anymore. But I managed to slog through and then to avoid Max’s concerned looks, I slipped outside.
As I stepped into the back lot, I suddenly noticed Brendon, looking worse than I’ve ever seen him in my life, and I couldn’t help but know, deep down that it is entirely my fault.
He was smoking, yet again, and he looked so fucking defeated that it made me want to cry: for him, for me, for us. After every drag, his lower lip trembled, and his clothes were wrinkled and his hair was a mess and full of knots. His eyes looked swollen almost, and they were red rimmed and it made me wonder if he’s been crying like I have. He’s falling apart.
He looked up as the door slammed shut behind me, and now I have no choice but to acknowledge him, when what I wanted to do was the exact opposite. He looked at me and then sighed, taking another drag of that damn cigarette. Suddenly, I felt something boiling beneath my skin and I hated that he was smoking, that he was ruining his beautiful voice and destroying his vivaciousness and his health. Without even thinking, I walked over to him and snatched the cigarette straight from his mouth and crushed it on the ground with my foot. There was a long pause and then Brendon , his voice rough, said, “Are you still not speaking to me, then?”
I close my eyes briefly, everything hurt so fucking bad, and then hesitantly shook my head, not sure if that’s the answer I even meant to give. When I opened my eyes, I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since tour. I looked at his features that always used to radiate happiness, at his eyes that were so beautiful, and yet now they just looked dark and lost. My brain shut down again and suddenly, I had closed the distance between us and kissed him. I knew how wrong it was, but I suddenly missed him so much, I missed how we used to be close; I just want to be close to him again.
It’s the most painful kiss I’ve ever experienced. He was kissing me back, and it’s almost like how we used to be, but the feeling is completely different, it’s a feeling that everything is ruined, and its knowing that this is horrible and we are only hurting ourselves but neither of us can stop. And suddenly, I WAS crying while kissing him and I felt his cheeks were wet as well. When I pulled away, Brendon was crying as hard as I was, and he rested his forehead on mine, sobbing quietly, while I clutched onto his shirt. “Please,” Brendon said, finally speaking through his tears. “Clark please…I am so sorry…I’m so fucking sorry…p-please.”
The tears are coming harder now and I sobbed loudly and hit him on the chest with my fists: so angry, so upset, which made him cling to me even harder.
“I love you, I love you so much, please forgive me, please,” he said desperately. “Please, I love you, I’m so sorry.” I was crying even harder now, I could barely even breathe and still he was frantically repeating himself, “I love you Clark, just give me another chance, please, please, just forgive me, please come back to me.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I said my voice cracking and barely even distinguishable through my tears. I didn’t know what exactly I was apologizing for, maybe for breaking him, for doing this to him, for not being able to forgive him, for sleeping with him, for kissing him just now, for not being stronger, for not resisting him from the very beginning, for telling him I loved him, for not sticking to my guns and refusing a relationship with him, for not being able to stop loving him, even now, even though it was killing both of us. For everything.
The door slammed open again, and I pulled away instantly, still sobbing, but trying to prevent being caught. “Sorry…” it was Spencer.
I shook my head, but Brendon grabbed onto my arms, not letting me go, ignoring his band mate.
“Brendon we’re on in 15 minutes, so uh…come in..whenever…” Spencer trailed off, obviously realizing he was interrupting something deep and painful.
“Clark,” Brendon groaned and I pulled away from him even harder. “Please…”
I yanked myself away finally, wiping my eyes, but it was no use because I couldn’t stop them from coming anyway.
“Please forgive me,” he said, his voice so small and there was no hope left in them, but he said them anyway. “Please come back to me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, backing away, and then when I was far enough away, I turned and ran, leaving him in the dark of the back lot.