I Write Sins Not Tragedies

I was sat at the bar, staring at a tall, cool cup of drink as if I was waiting for it to pour itself down my throat. I had no idea why I was there. I think my feet must have led me there by themselves, but I just couldn’t move. The events of earlier on ran through my mind in sickening flashes, like the view from a train going in and out of tunnels fast.

The stench of the waiting room. The firm, sympathetic handshake. The feel of the crumbling arm rest as I wound my forearm around it. The two words that I could barely wrap my head around now, even though it was hours ago; nearly twelve hours to be exact. I was ill – really ill.

I finally forced myself to get up, and I paid the tab and made to leave. As I walked through the door, not looking and clumsy as usual, I walked into something. Someone. I had been walking so fast that both of us fell to the floor, almost taking a waiter down too. I hit my head hard on the icy floor, and sat up in a daze.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, almost slurring my words. And then I saw who it was. Our eyes met and he paused for a second, silent even though his friends were pulling him up, trying to get him to go. I didn’t know how long he stood there staring down at me before he opened his mouth and spoke.

“Yeah, uh, I’m really sorry, it was totally my fault!” He didn’t look sorry though. White teeth flashed in the brilliant smile he gave me, holding one hand out to help me up. “Brendon Urie – it’s nice to meet you.” he said. Of course, I already knew that.

“R-Ryan Ross,” I replied quietly, stuttering. I let go of his hand as soon as I was up and made to leave, but he caught my shoulder.

“Don’t go – we only just met! Let me buy you a drink to make up for knocking you over.”

I followed him hesitantly, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. His perfect, slim waist and round bottom and thin legs. His shiny chocolate hair and eyes like pools of caramel. His smile. The way he walked. – I was spellbound.

After a couple of glasses of champagne that had been almost forced upon me, I was already feeling tired. Brendon was sat close to me, flirting with every single person on our table. The guys too, except for me. There was a faint feeling of disappointment in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t quite place my finger on.

And then all of a sudden, he leaned into me really slowly, and I could feel his hot breath tickling my neck. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, just as everyone fell quiet. Then one of the girls giggled hysterically, and the noise volume resumed.

I smiled, feeling the drink flowing through me suddenly like a warm wave of pleasure. “You too,” I whispered back. He flashed his white smile again, and shifted so close to me that every plane of our legs was pressed against each other.

“You know,” he muttered. “My hotel isn’t all that far away, and I could do with some company tonight. I’m a bit lonely, you see.”

“Me too,” I replied before I knew what I was saying. “I’ve had a rough day.”

“I can make that go away, Ryan,” his voice was husky and seductive, melting me and all of my principles just like that.

“I’d like that.”

Then before I could say anything else, he leaned in all the way to my face, and pretty much attacked my lips with his soft pout, biting fiercely down on my bottom lip. I moaned into the kiss and everyone turned to stare. The whole bar. “Let’s go,” Brendon whispered. “Now.”

I nodded, and we stood up to leave. He pulled me out onto the street. The whole way to his hotel we held hands and joked around. He kept pulling me up to him and saying how cold I was, and we giggled a lot from the drink and the sensations.

Then as we crossed the road, holding up loads of cars, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed our bodies together. I could hear the hooting of horns, but it was just fading background noise as he whispered, “You’re perfect.” I could feel myself blushing; burning red. He pressed our lips together, right there on the road, and I melted into his hot, sweet kiss.

I don’t really know what happened at the hotel. All I can remember were the screams and moans, and the feeling of his hot sweaty body pushing urgently – desperately, almost – against mine.

The next morning he was gone. I can’t really say I was surprised. On my way out, I must have looked a right state because a hotel clerk stopped me. “Are you alright, sir? Is there anything I can help you with?”

“N-no,” I muttered. “I need to go.”

“Very well sir, but were you the gentleman staying with Mr Urie, room 609?”

“Y-yes. That’s me. W-why?”

“He gave me this for you,” said the clerk. “And told me to see you out safely. You have a good day now, sir.” The man handed me a note before walking briskly away.

I opened it with trembling hands.

I’m Sorry. You Are Perfect. I Love You. That Is Why I Had To Leave.

Brendon

X

* * *

I’m stood in this room with a weird scent, fiddling to try and distract myself. I can’t remember how I got here. All I know is that the boy I love and looked for for over three years is sat behind me. Dying. Why, God, why?

“Ryan, how was I supposed to know?” I said, suddenly frustrated, turning to face him. The sight of his perfect body, unrecognisable because of his illness and the tubes, wrenched my heart like nothing else.

“You couldn’t have. I’m sorry. I love you, Brendon.”

Suddenly a machine started beeping. I gasped and stepped forward. “Ryan, I love you!” I yelled. “NURSE!”