I Might Be Holding Your Hand, but I'm Holding It Loose.

“Why do you have to spend all of your time in some studio, when it’s not even you recording?” asked Stephanie, her head in Emma’s lap. They’d been lounging around for an hour or so. It was two days after they’d first met, and it was an odd experience for Emma, to say the least. She’d clicked with Stephanie so easily, whom she now abbreviates to ‘Steph’. She’d been attracted to a few girls in the past, but it was nothing serious. This time it felt like this fling they had could be tempted to form into a relationship. Her mother wouldn’t be pleased.
“It’s my job, I’m doing a piece on a band and their period in the studio,” she sighed, running her hands through her hair. She’d never anticipated that being paid would cause so much hurt. Stupid fucking Brendon.
She’d seen them on a date yesterday. Brendon and horse-face were at one of the more upmarket Italian restaurants in the area, giggling and talking and eating and gazing in that obnoxious way couples do. He was wearing a tie. He hates ties. Horse-face was wearing an a-line skirt and some navy cardigan. It pissed her off because even though she wore clothes that should age her, she somehow managed to look alright. If cardigans was what Brendon liked, she’d wear them, but Emma knew she’d never get away with it.
“You can come in to the studio today,” she offered. “If you want.”
“What band is it?” she asked, sitting up and smiling.
“Panic! At The Disco,” she sighed, gulping to try and swallow the lump in her throat. They’d soon be finished recording, and then they’d part. She needed to take action soon.
“You don’t sound exactly thrilled. But they are a pussy band so I can’t blame you,” she laughed and stood up, straightening up her skirt.
“Pussy band?”
“In comparison to someone like... Metallica. But I will give credit where credit is due, and Panic piss all over Justin Bieber.”
“It’s like looking in a mirror.” laughed Emma, standing up too and kissing Steph’s cheek. Being with Stephanie felt a little like second nature to her now. Almost too natural.
“Well that’s good,” she smirked. “Because you’re hot.”
Emma merely laughed again and grabbed her hand, leading her to the recording studio down the road. She was glad she had very little inhibitions because it meant she could be public about whatever they were. Public displays of affection didn’t faze her, and certainly didn’t faze Stephanie, which was perfect. Brendon had no hope.
“Do you like any of the members? Are they tolerable?”
“The drummer, Spencer, is a sweetheart, and pretty much my best friend. They guy who I was at the club with?”
Stephanie nodded. “Okay, beardy dude is fine.” she made note and Emma smiled.
“The singer, guitarist, bassist, whatever, Brendon, is a douche. So don’t expect much hospitality from him or his fiancé. She’s venom and all things demonic in one person. Which is a little ironic, really,”
“Because?” she pondered, holding open the door for Emma.
“Christian.” she said bluntly and Stephanie snorted. Spencer was soon in sight and the friendly man hugged Emma tightly.
“This is the tolerable one,”
“That’s what I’m referred to as? I dread what Brendon’s called,” he chuckled. “Stephanie, is it?”
“Call me Steph,” she smiled warmly and followed them into the studio, where Brendon was sat in his soundproof booth. Rebecca was perched on one of the nearby chairs, swinging her legs aimlessly. A scowl soon arrived on her face when she saw Emma, but it turned into a look of confusion when she saw a new face amongst them.
“Oh so you’re horse-face! I’m Stephanie. My friends call me Steph, so you can call me Stephanie.”

Hello, scowl.

“Can I marry you?” asked Spencer, smiling.
“Sorry, I don’t swing that way,” she chuckled and rested her head on Spencer’s shoulder, just like Emma does. He couldn’t help but bask in the moment, because he had a beautiful girl either side of him whilst Rebecca and Brendon looked both pissed off and a little upset.

That, my friends, is called karma.

“You’re a lesbian?” frowned Rebecca, breaking her silence and facing the girls. Spencer walked into his separate booth.
“That’d be the one.”
“What is it with Vegas and faggots...” she trailed off, mumbling just loud enough so the others could hear.
“What is it with flat-chested girls and feeling the need to attack other women with, frankly, pathetic insults?”
Spencer buzzed through to the main room, once again laughing. “I could kiss you, Steph.”
“Hannah will do it for you,” she giggled and pouted, closing her eyes. Emma smirked and wrapped her arms around Stephanie’s waist, pressing her lips softly to Steph’s. She hummed into it, smiling as it slowly deepened. Emma started thinking about how potentially pornographic this was, how women who are straight hook up anyway because they’re being paid for it. They weren’t being paid but they were certainly gaining something; pissing off Rebecca and turning on Brendon. This could be filmed as some amateur video, especially as Steph’s hands were pushing up Emma’s flat stomach and they were slowly pressed against a wall.
They hadn’t realized how heated it had become until they heard a door slam and the only person left in the room was Spencer.
“W-what happened?” asked Emma, licking her lips and pulling her shirt back down.
“Urie boy just ran out, crying silently. So she ran out after him.”
“Spencer what do I do?” she panicked, biting her lip so hard it almost bled.
“I’m thoroughly confused, so I should probably go.” said Stephanie, smiling sympathetically. “I’ll see you later or something,”
“Or something.” she smiled and waved Stephanie goodbye.

“I suggest you go after him?” whispered
“I thought you’d say that,” she sighed and walked out in search of Brendon, feeling a pang of guilt. Payback wasn’t designed to do this; it was meant to make us feel better, not like we wanted to vomit our emotions.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly. Silly question but everyone asks it.
“What do you think?!” screamed Rebecca. No one thought she had it in her to get properly angry. Maybe she did love Brendon. Maybe she knew his past with Emma. Maybe she knew that Hannah was all a fucking façade, for her.
“Bren?”
He sniffed and held his knees closer to his chest. She bent down to try and comfort him but Rebecca was having none of it. She stood tall in front of him, as some sort of guard. Despite her puffed out chest she still seemed inferior. “Don’t you touch him,”
“What? One minute you’re calling him a faggot and the next you’re consoling him? How does that work?”

“Rebecca, love, I think Hannah and I need to talk some things through. Please go back to the hotel, I’ll buy you something special on the way back. This is pretty vital.”

They both turned to look at Brendon, both in awe and slack jaws. Weak Brendon Urie was being decisive?

Rebecca nodded, kissed his cheek, sighed then left.