We'll Sing It Back

He treated women like toys, was what she'd heard. They told her that he'd humour them for a certain period of time, then chew them up and spit them out on the curb. Apparently he had no respect for the women he so-called 'loved'. Apparently he was just another cliched nineteen-year-old kid who was too young and too immature to be involved in something as big and powerful as the music industry.

Though she wasn't going to believe it until she had some proof other than word of mouth, she didn't find it hard to believe that the boy she'd encountered at the bus stop was a womaniser. She hadn't had any idea of who he was until she'd come across his face on her walk home (there'd been no taxis available), staring up at her from the front cover of The Rolling Stone.

She thought it odd, and you would too, that the face of the seemingly ordinary teenaged boy was on the front cover of such a magazine and she bought it without hesitation and only the intention of reading the article that featured his name.

It hadn't been so much of a surprise to her to learn that the boy was only nineteen-years-old. She remembered the boys she used to know. Nineteen-years-old, in her eyes, was an extremely cocky age. But what surprised her most was that this boy actually had something to be cocky about. This band, his band, that adorned the front cover of the magazine was actually quite good.

Hanna was, for the one-millionth time, looking over the article as she sat in the backseat of her cousin's car on his way to the studio. When they stopped at a red traffic light William turned around to see what his cousin was reading and asked, "What's that you got there, cous'?"

"A dead fish," she replied sarcastically, not looking up and still scanning the article. She'd learned almost everything there was to learn about this Brendon character. She'd even listened to some of his band's music.

"Hey, that's Panic!," Will grinned at the front cover of the magazine. Hanna held it up and they both looked at it. She watched it with raised eyebrows as if expecting the picture to move whilst William watched the picture with a smirk.

"Spencer looks like such a dork in that picture," he commented, pointing out one of the boys.

"You know these guys?" Hanna asked, turning to her cousin. The red light switched to green and Will turned around and the car continued to move.

"Know these guys? I work with these guys! Hell, they're going to be at the studio when we get there!" And then he paused and asked, "Why, do you like them?"

Hanna didn't reply but simply stared at the magazine cover with a blank expression. Suddenly going to the studio with her cousin didn't seem like such a wonderful idea. This Brendon Urie character, though he was undoubtedly very talented, was one of the most intolerable people she'd ever met and she did not wish or feel the need to cross his path ever again.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence with William wondering if he'd upset Hanna in some way and hoping to whatever higher entity may hear that he hadn't because he wanted her to be in a good mood when they arrived the at studio or else she'd embarrass him. Hanna stared out of the window, fighting the urge to open the car door and run in the opposite direction.

She hated men and boys like Brendon. She didn't want anything to do with them or anyone associated with them, save for her cousin. Her fingers tapped the leather material of the car seat impatiently as she contemplated what to do. She would act calm, she decided, and she would pretend as though she had never met Brendon before in her entire life. She would politely ignore him unless he spoke directly to her. She didn't want to mess this up for Will, she wanted to show him that she could make an effort with people when she wanted to.

"Will, you finally got rid of Christine!" A dark-haired boy exclaimed happily when William Beckett walked into the recording studio, followed by his cousin, Hanna. "We have to celebrate this parting of ways with a party!"

"Bloody hell, man," another boy said, looking Hanna up and down with a raised eyebrow, "Nice one."

William, whose cheeks were rather red by now, opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off by yet another one of his friends, "Jesus Christ, Will!"

Hanna, who had not recognised any of the men in the room so far, recognised the third, curly-haired boy and she smirked when she said, "Aren't you meant to be Jewish?"

"She's funny too!" The first one exclaimed again. By this point Will thought it was utterly necessary for him to shout, "She's NOT my GIRLFRIEND!" So he did.

The room went quiet.

"She's uh... my cousin, Hanna," he said and motioned to his cousin. "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not getting rid of Christine."

"But she's a fugly wh-" Joe, the one that Hanna had recognised on first sight, began but stopped in mid-sentence when William shot him a deathly glare.

"At least I know that your friends have good taste," Hanna said dryly, sitting down in a chair next to Joe.

"I like you, you're funny and you acknowledge the fact that Christine is --" but this second man stopped in mid-sentence too when William, who was now talking to a short man with large sideburns on the other side of the room, shot him a glare.

"I'm Pete," he said, holding out his hand. Hanna shook it with a small smile.

"And I'm Jon," another boy said. She smiled, she recognised him from the front cover of her magazine.

"And I'm--"

"I know who you are, Joe," Hanna cut the guitarist off who looked at her with a startled expression. "My cousin is only your biggest fan in the whole entire world."

"What, Will?" Joe asked, looking shocked. Pete and Jon giggled girlishly. "Will's my biggest fan? That's creepy."

Hanna rolled her eyes. "No, not Will. His sister, Court--"

Hanna never did get to finish her sentence for it was then that the studio doors were flung open and a boy of nineteen-years was stood in the doorway, looking every bit as cocky as he had when she'd first seen him.

"Never fear, Brendon is here."

For the love of God, someone restrain me.