Jinxed Things Ringing

"I'm not sure Brendon," I said tugging on my shirt.

"Oh come on! It'll be fun! I always use to do this when I went out. It was standard," Brendon shrugged.

"Are you going to get changed?" I asked him.

"Nah. If I become solid again, I don't want to take the chance of being translucent and losing the clothes," He grinned. "What about you? Is that what you're wearing?"

"Uh-"

"Because its Valentine's Day aka Sexy Day and we're going to a club aka a sexy club," Brendon gave me a skeptical look.

"Brendon!" I shouted to stop him from talking. "This isn't what I'm wearing! Stop being gay,"

"Not my fault I have better fashion sense than you," Brendon shrugged.

"Is that why you chose that to wear when you died," I snapped getting annoyed with him.

Brendon looked shocked.

I think I looked shocked.

Oops.

Brendon gave me a disappointed look before walkingout into the door. He fell backwards onto the floor and looked completely shocked. Giving me a double take, on the second look he shot me a glare, stood up, swung the door open, and stormed down the stairs and into the hallway.

I sighed and rubbed my face.

I. Fucked. Up.



"Genviève?"

"I'm here," I said glumly sitting at my vanity table.

"You know," Roger chuckled. "I've never gone as far to your room before,"

I looked at him through the mirror's reflection. He was dressed in some tight fitting black pants and a light blue t-shirt.

"Why are you so terrified of this place?" I asked Roger curiously, turning around.

"Bad experience," He shrugged.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well. . ." Roger said scratching his head and sitting on my bed.

"C'mon," I edged on.

"I don't really like to talk about it," He blushed.

I nodded understandingly and looked away.

Roger sighed.

"I think I was around seven or something and my friends and I were messing around. One of the kids told all my friends to leave me as a joke and I ended up going lost and coming down this street.

Since this house was the only house there, I decided I would just ask somebody inside to get me home. I knocked on the door and rung the doorbell but nobody was answering. So I tried the doorknob and it was open. . ."

Dark brown shaggy hair and bright green eyes, a little boy of maybe eight or nine came into the large house.

"Hello?" He called out standing in the foyer. "I'm lost!"

One of the steps of the staircase creaked.

"Hellooooo!" the boy called out in desperation. "I want to go home and I'm lost!"

His heart was now pounding harder. Who lived here? Why weren't they helping him.

The little boy wandered through parlor to parlor, discovering nobody. Suddenly the faint sound of piano wafted through the air.

Feeling a little relieved, the boy ran towards whoever was playing. He stopped short of the grand piano that stood in the foyer where he stood a few moments ago. However nobody was there.

"Hello?" he squeaked, his begging eyes sparkling with sadness.

It was quiet for ten seconds more before the piano bench completely over turned itself and clattered on the stone floor.

The boy let out a terrified scream. He dashed for the door and pulled but it wouldn't budge.

"Please!" he cried out but the doors locked by itself instead. The little boy thrashed about at the door trying to escape but no prevail.

He spun around to run the other way but hit a person's torso. And before he could look up-

He fainted.

"When I woke up, I was laying against the cemetery gates. I freaked out so badly, I think I peed myself," Roger chuckled, circumspecting the room.

My heart broke a little just imagining little Roger running into Brendon and then blacking out.

"Roger. . ." I sympathized.

"So we should go get some bitches," Roger suggested nervously.

"What," My tone dropped.

"Yeah, you know. Bitches. Some hoes," Roger offered awkwardly.

Nice change of subject.

I raised an eyebrow but didn't press the matter.

"I have to change," I gave him a small smile.

"Ok," Roger said and crossed his arms behind his head and got comfortable.

"Roger!"

"Alright, alright," He sighed with over exaggeration. "Louise and I are downstairs. I think Michelle is on her way,"

I nodded and turned back to my vanity as the door shut.

Peeling the robe off my shoulders, I let the fabric slide and fall to the ground. I sat there in my under garments staring at my reflection.

Why was I so denying? Brendon was so good to me and I pushed him away so much. Why was I doing this to us?

I was so busy among my thoughts, I didn't realize the door open.

"Genviève," His voice was strained as he sighed.

He climbed up the steps and through the reflection I saw Brendon Boyd Urie freeze.

Trying not to think, I stood up slowly to face him. His eyes never left mine.

His face showed no emotion as he walked towards me. I copied his actions.

Did I really want to do this? There was no turning back.

"You want me,"

"I do," he replied.

"Then kiss me,"

Without missing a beat his face was on mine, lips to lips.

I surrendered myself as he hoisted meup with one arm around the waist, letting me dangle in his arms like a rag doll. His other hand was engaged with my scap, massaging my hair.

I pulled away gasping as he ran his lips down my neck.

"I'm sorry," I breathed out in ecstasy, gripping his shoulders.

"It's okay," His raspy voice said; his lips leaving traces of hot skin.

"N-no. I really am-" I gasped.

"Really, it's fine," He insisted. I let out a strained chuckle. His grip around my waist tightened as our chests were pressed against each other. I let my fingers run through his coarse hair until I grasped it tightly and pulled his head back.

I pressed my lips against his hungrily wanting to taste more. Both of his hands were now supported under my bottom and my legs were wrapped around his waist.

Brendon walked backwards, lips still pressed to mine, until his knees hit the back of the bed.



"Mmmm," I moaned and removed my arm from my face. I looked to my right and saw Brendon sleeping peacefully. I reached over and stroked his face. He stirred a little but didn't wake up.

Letting out a small yawn, it dawned on me what had happened last night.

But I was still wearing my underwear and Brendon was in his boxers and white t-shirt.

It was definitely morning. What happened to the others?

I sat up a bit and noticed a small piece of paper stuck to the bed post. I reached over to grab it, while doing so I felt a single finger run up and down my spine.

I returned with the note: Didn't want to disturb you. Took Rog and Louise to club. See you tomorrow. <3

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my fingers to my temples, crushing the paper in my hand.

"You regret it," Brendon's voice was muffled as his lips were pressed to my bare shoulder. His gaze however was pointed upwards to me.

I looked down at him and shook my head. He looked relieved and pulled me in, kissing my face everywhere but my lips.

He paused to examine my face. "Do you love me?"

I blinked a few times. I stopped breathing.

"Do you?" I asked in response.

"I don't remember what that is," He said blankly. It was heartbreaking to hear those words.

Not remember how to love?

"What else do you not remember?"

Brendon's eyes casted down as his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I can't remember. . . well . . . how to be excited. I can't remember pain. I can't remember remorse or optimism. I can't remember awe,"

I looked at him adoringly.

"I can't remember what it feels like to love though," he said. "I don't know if I love you,"

"How wicked of you," I whispered softly pecking his lips.

"You know what they say," Brendon smiled. "Love spelled backwards is evil,"

I smacked my forehead.