You're a Regular Decorated Emergency

When I reached Brendon's floor, his apartment door was already open. I hesitated, checking my reflection in the window opposite me.
I had on my tightest skinny jeans, a purple tank top, with my bangs pulled back for the first time in ages.

My hands were already clammy, the ghost of Brendon's fingers still burning on my skin. He made me so frigging nervous, I don't know what to do with myself. I really hope he invited someone else over tonight too, I don't think I could handle the alone time just yet.

I entered the apartment cautiously, but no one was in sight. I edged into the living room, no one. Puzzled, I walked toward Brendon's bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, and I could make out Brendon's hunched form sitting on his bed. A guitar was in his arms, and he was strumming a melody unknown to me, it sounded almost like a folk song. He was mumbling to himself, writing down lyrics on a piece of paper as he went.
I stood at the door frame, just watching. He laid his guitar next to him, the piece of paper in his hands now. His eyes shifted from side to side while he muttered the lyrics as he read.
Hesitantly, he wrote something at the end, tilting his head to one side.

Brendon folded the piece of paper and sighed, looking up. He gasped when he saw me, jumping to his feet.

"L-Lexie! Holy shit you scared me."
"Sorry, the door was open so I just came in."
"No, its okay. Um, how long have you been standing there?" he seemed nervous, and his eyes kept darting to the piece of folded up paper on his bed.
"I just walked in." I lied, entering his room and sitting on the plump mattress.

He sat Indian-style next to me, still eyeing the piece of paper nervously.
"Whats this?" I grabbed the paper before he could, unfolding it. He let out a little sigh of defeat, scratching the back of his neck.

In Brendon's cramped handwriting, were lyrics, to a song he just wrote, I'm guessing. They were different than the rest of the songs Panic made, but they were beautiful. At the bottom of the page, almost intelligible, it said I'd do anything just to look into your eyes and say, 'I love you'.

"Will you sing it for me?" I whispered, raising an eyebrow.
He turned beat red, eyes wide. "Uh, no its shitty, look just throw it out.."
"Why not, you always used to sing me your songs." I pouted.
He just shook his head, trying to snatch the paper away from me.

I put a hand on his knee, leaning forward. "Please?"
He stared at my hand, then up at my eyes. One look into his lovely brown orbs and he had picked up his guitar and cleared his throat. I didn't move my hand, instead shifted my body so we were closer.

So I was being a flirt, sue me.

allow me to exaggerate a memory or two,
where summers lasted longer than,
longer then we do.
where nothing really mattered except for me to be with you.
but in time we all forgot and we all grew.

your melody sounds as sweet
as the first time it was sung
with a little bit more character for show
and by the time your fathers heard of
all the wrong you've done
then I'm putting out the lantern,
find your own way back home.

Goosebumps were rising all around my body. My jaw was slack and my eyes staring at Brendon. I couldn't even wrap my mind around it, but for some reason those lyrics struck a chord deep inside me.
"W-wow." I managed, taking my hand off his knee. He smiled shyly, placing the guitar back down.

"You liked it?"
"I don't even know how to say it Bren. Those lyrics were really amazing."
He beamed, eyes sparkling.

"So, who'd you write it for?" Curiosity was always one of my weaker points. Brendon immediately blushed again, playing with the hem of his shirt nervously.
"W-what makes you think I wrote it for some-someone?" he stuttered.
I pointed to the note at the bottom of the page silently.

He stared at me, not even glancing at the page.
I stared right back, completely drowning in his large brown eyes.

"You should wear your hair like that more often, that way I can see your eyes." he whispered, getting to his feet.
Speechless, I shakily stood up too, folding up the paper and putting it in my back pocket when he wasn't looking.