Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time

Brendon’s perplexing day isn’t through yet as his fingers brush against the sides of unopened alcoholic beverages. There’s a familiar song playing quietly through the grocery store’s speakers. The musician immediately recalls unrecognizable figures dancing along to the beat in his living room. For a split second, he sees Emmett’s face again. There’s an itch beneath Brendon’s skin… why does it bother him so much? Why does this man… unnerve him? It isn’t just the recognition that’s unsettling, but the memories seem to become more expansive. He remembers touching Emmett; feeling a phantom sensation of his cotton shirt gracing his fingertips. Brendon’s heart starts to speed up… did he…
“Excuse me.” A voice says.
“Oh, sorry.” Brendon says, moving over and letting an older man reach a bottle of whiskey.
Still on edge by this new recollection, he grabs random bottles of drinks at arm’s length and walks quickly to check-out. As he gets in his car, he tears off a piece of paper from one of the bottles and forms it into a ball between his fingers. He takes a second to breathe before starting the car and heading home. Of course one paper ball couldn’t settle his anxiety as he sees two police cars parked a few houses down from his own.
As soon as the musician parks in his garage, he is quick to jump out of the vehicle and carry the groceries inside.
He passes Sarah who’s watching TV, “Hey babe.” She says.
“Hey,” Brendon replies, now from in the kitchen. His hands are shaking as he puts the bottles in the pantry.
Fuck, the police are coming. Fuck what is he gonna say? He could have very well hooked up with this guy and not remember. No, he would never do that to his wife. Maybe he was just drunk and flirted with a dude… who is now missing. None of this sounds good to the musician.
“I walked out front earlier and noticed the police down the street. I think they’re asking people in the neighborhood if they saw anything.” Sarah says.
“Yeah, they’re probably gonna ask about that missing guy or something.”
“Wouldn’t it be about the cops that got shot? That missing man- that happened like half an hour from here.”
“Oh… oh yeah, you’re right.” Brendon finishes before walking back into the living room.
He sits next to Sarah, swinging an arm around her shoulder. He can’t even focus on the program in front of him.
The doorbell eventually rings, and Brendon stops breathing for a moment. He separates his mind from his body, swiftly getting up and answering the door. Two police officers stand beside each other, both with serious expressions formed into their features.
One says, “Hi, I’m officer Jones and this is officer Dixon, we’re here to ask you about the recent neighborhood disturbance. We’d like to know if you heard or seen anything between the hours of ten and midnight last night.”
“I don’t remember much, unfortunately,” Brendon starts, “I hosted a party last night. It’s hard to recall everything that happened. The music was pretty loud for the good majority of the night.”
The other officer speaks, “So you hosted a party last night? There’s a current missing person by the name of Emmett Hoffmann. Does that name sound familiar to you?”
“I heard about him from the news, I might have seen him in passing.” Brendon says, his heart definitely beginning to race.
“We’d just heard claims of individuals mentioning this local area when asked about the last time they saw Emmett. One friend of his said he was going to attend a party. So he wasn’t here then by your knowledge?
“No, but,” Lying completely isn’t Brendon’s strong suit, “actually, now that I think about it, I remember seeing him at a local bar about fifteen minutes away from here maybe about a month ago.”
“Did you and him share any contact information?”
“No.” Somehow, that answer didn’t feel right. He’s afraid to even check his contact list.
There’s a few more follow up questions, and miraculously, the police leave without a hint of suspicion. Brendon sighs with relief as he shuts the door.
“So you knew Emmett? At least briefly.” Sarah asks.
Brendon automatically wishes she’d just drop it, “Mhm.”
“Surprised you didn’t mention it to me earlier.”
“Didn’t think it was much to mention. Didn’t really know the guy.”
“That’s true.” Sarah goes back to the couch and resumes her show.
Brendon goes into the kitchen and pops open a bottle of chardonnay. His lips are immediately pressed to the tip. He just fucking lied to the police. Not completely, but just enough for it to weigh on his conscious and make him want to drown himself with alcohol tonight.

~~~

Kenneth sits idle at the ‘kitchen’ table in Jake’s apartment waiting for the taller man to… finish his business. As much as the demon could give less of a fuck… it’s something about the closeness he shared with Jake that makes it near impossible to not care a little. Whether or not it could get in the way or be a burden, Kenneth isn’t sure. It’s something that doesn’t matter. What does matter is the mission.
The bathroom door opens and Jake walks out with a smirk on his face. He stretches and lets out an exaggerated ‘ah’ sound.
Kenneth sighs, “Was that really necessary?”
“Brendon Boyd Urie had his tongue down my throat, I think that was very necessary.”
“You’re a dumb-ass.” Kenneth says.
“You said not on the couch, you’re welcome.”
Kenneth stares at him with a deadpan look on his face, “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure we should go now?” Jake questions, “We don’t even know if Brendon is back home or whatever.”
“Cloud gave us a specific time limit, we just have to hope he’s back or will be back soon.” Kenneth finishes. He turns to open the door, not even bothering to wait for Jake to catch up.
By the time they get to Kenneth’s car, Jake speaks again, “Why can’t we just, you know, poof there?”
“Did you forget how suspicious it would look if we weren’t home and the cars were parked in the lot? Plus we still have to go through a damn door anyway.”
“I swear, Cloud has the biggest stick up his ass.”
“At least he knows what he’s doing.”
“I guess.” Jake finishes.
The rest of the drive is silent as they get to the old abandoned factory, spill their blood, and proceed into hell. The walk down the hallway and soon enough stand in the main bureau in front of Cloud.
Kenneth says, “We’ve completed the task, sir.”
The red eyed demon sits tall and proud, slightly smirking at the news, “Very good. Were the effects immediate?”
The black eyed demon nods, “Yes, sir.”
“Since this has never been executed before, both of you keep a sharp eye on him. Monitor his activities specifically on full moons. This serum allegedly only affects memory, but even so, report back if profound changes occur.”
“Like what, sir?” Jake asks.
Cloud tightens his jaw, “Recollection of memories and any external demonic features.”
“Well that’s basically what happened last night.”
Cloud tilts his head, “How so?”
“He had the nails, teeth, eyes, and small horns. Like, a half way through the process look.”
“Did he take a life?”
“Yep!” Jake exclaims, a little too excitedly.
Both black eyed demons watch Cloud’s eyes grow wide as he talks quietly to himself. The taller of the two finds the moment awkward, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he lets his eyes wander the room. Kenneth tries to make out what Cloud is saying.
Cloud looks back up, “These effects might be more spontaneous than predicted, or the changes are continuously progressive from this point on. Either way, you two report back to me as often as you can. The complete beginning stage of the transformation might happen sooner than expected.”
“Yes, sir.” Kenneth says.
“Will do.” Jake replies.
Both demons escort themselves out and make their way back to Earth.
While they get back in Kenneth’s car, Jake says, “You think he’s right? About Brendon changing quickly.”
“We won’t know until the next full moon.” Kenneth replies.

~~~

Two bottles are set on the coffee table in front of the Uries as they binge watch a TV show. Brendon’s mind is still distracted by everything as he continuously pours more alcohol into his glass, letting the liquid burn the back of his throat. Sarah doesn’t seem to pay attention to him, which the musician deems convenient. He doesn’t want her to worry… he doesn’t want her to know. There are no other suitable or subtle actions to succumb to while running from those thoughts. Paranoia always struck Brendon, ever since he was young. As soon as he got a taste of drugs and alchohol, it was just another coping mechanism for his anxiety.
Eventually, one of the bottles runs dry, and Brendon begins to reach for the second one Sarah had started.
His wife attests, snatching the bottle before he does, “I think that’s enough for you.”
“Babe!” Brendon whines in protest, sinking back into the couch and crossing his arms.
Sarah says, “C’mon, put your glass away, we should go to bed soon.”
“There’s ten minutes left-”
“That gives me enough time to finish the rest of my drink.” She says, slightly swaying her half empty glass.
Brendon looks at her for a moment, “Fine.”
Her smile spells out victory as the musician gets up from the couch with his empty glass and bottle. He places both items on the counter and eyes the glass of whiskey tucked into the corner by the cabinets. He picks up his glass again, getting ready to retrieve that bottle just for one more splash of liquor. He stops as more memories come flooding in his mind from the party. Emmett’s face again… he remembers moving in close. They kissed, he… kissed him.
Brendon’s hand goes up to his lips, recalling the memory further. They went to the guest bedroom. He tries to shake it off, but the pictures in his mind pop in and out. More kissing, more touching. Blood. Warm blood coating his mouth… it’s all red. Red everywhere. Emmett’s face… stone cold. The musician drops the glass and it shatters against the floor.
“Brendon,” Sarah starts, “Are you okay?”
Her voice sounds almost muted to Brendon as the world seems to move slowly. He feels sick. Soon enough, his wife seeps into his peripheral vision and he curses under his breath viewing the shattered glass on the floor. He goes down to his knees, attempting to pick up the larger pieces and trying not to cut himself. Sarah takes out a brush and dust pan, helping to collect the smaller shards.
As soon as the pieces of broken glass are discarded, Sarah says, “Hey, is everything alright?”
Brendon doesn’t say a word, and instead moves in for a kiss. Sarah’s lips hesitate at first, but soon succumb to Brendon’s movements. He slips his tongue in her mouth almost immediately, pulling her body close. She lets out a small noise, and Brendon’s lips soon fall onto her neck.
“Bren…” Sarah breathes, grabbing the side of his face so he stops, “I like it better when you’re sober.”
Brendon’s face falls. In a quiet voice, he says, “Okay.”
He lazily puts an arm around her waist and slowly snuggles his face into the side of her neck. They both stand there in the embrace for a few moments. The light scent of her perfume and the soft touch of her skin leave Brendon calm.
“Let’s go to bed.” Sarah murmurs.
Brendon nods as they both make their way into the bedroom. While Sarah stands in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, the musician lays idle on the bed. The only thoughts in his head were, ‘I killed him, I killed him, I killed him.’ His chest is tight as his eyes are glued to the ceiling. Tears threaten to fall down his cheeks, but he tries his best not to cry. He can’t let Sarah see him like this. He can’t ask her what’s wrong. He can’t tell her anything…
Brendon turns to the side, facing away from Sarah as she slips under the covers. One of her hands drapes over his body. He knows he won’t sleep tonight as he lets a single tear hit his pillow.