We Used to See with Wide Eyes

I gently turned the key in the lock and opened the door as slowly as possible. I didn't want to freak Mac and Carla out this early in the morning. I had woken when it was still dark and was too restless to stay in bed. Right now, the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

I cursed under my breath as I grew a little too enthusiastic shutting the door behind me and the string of bells hit the glass, creating a slight knocking noise. I froze but after a minute of silence I figure I've slid by undetected.

I dumped my stuff at my booth and after opening all the curtains hiding the huge windows, I ambled behind the counter to start a pot of delicious tea brewing, I am not a fan of coffee. It smells wonderful but does not appeal to my taste buds.

I tapped my fingers impatiently on the countertop, ready to snatch the teapot off the stove at the first sign of steam. Mac and Carla were always fine with me being here because they gave me a key, but I'm sure they wouldn't appreciate being woken right now. It would be easier if Mac just got one of those hot water taps but he tends to resist change and insists that teapots work fine.

The second my ears caught the sound of a faint whistle I grabbed it on the hot coils (he also won't get a gas stove) and poured the steaming water into a white mug. I got a bag of the Chamomile that I was partial to and made my way back to my booth.

As I swished the bag around, staining the water, I couldn't help but feel calm. There was something I've always found comforting about familiarity but of course everyone does. Otherwise, why would we be resistant to change?

I gave a sigh, for now I was content to forget the showdown that would go on later today and just take in the world shielded from me by the large diner windows. Even in this 24 hour city there were places and times were everyone seemed to be asleep and I was glad because it was the only time where I could really think. Every few minutes a lone runner would go past, running early to beat the heat, or a doting pet owner would stroll past with Fido sniffing along ahead of them.

My mug was at my lips for the first time when I heard a shuffling at the front door. Is someone trying to break in?

I stood up cautiously and ran to the stove to grab a pan from above the stove. I was ready and waiting to club the intruder when the door swung open with the bells clinking against the glass. I held it high above my head and swung it when I was in reach of the guy. He let out a yelp and flung himself down just in time to be ruffled by the breeze it created. I stood over him ready to swing if necessary but when I took a closer look I recognized him. Brendon.

I was horrified.

"I am so sorry," I babbled, "I had no idea that anyone else had the key… I thought you were a burglar, I didn't know -"

"It's alright," he cut me off in a gruff voice picking himself up off the floor.
I stood there, awkward and unsure of what to do, with the pan in my hand. The first step would probably to be to set that down.

"You wanted me here?" Brendon asked avoiding my gaze.

"Yeah – yes, I did, I mean, I do," I stuttered, "Uh, could you sit down?"

He gave a grunt of agreement and made his way over to my booth. I, on the other hand, put the pot back in its proper place and hurried back to the booth.

I slid in across from him trying to read his expression but since his face was turned to the table it was unreadable. He gave a heaving sigh and his skinny shoulders rose and fell with the effort, finally contracting so that he was hunched over. I knew he was tired. Dark, heavy bags under his eyes slightly marred his handsome face, but he was still able to pull it off. His disheveled hair would only add to his sex appeal but a hard set jaw and clenching teeth took the place of his boyish grin.

I realized that this isn't the Brendon who had eaten breakfast with me. This is not the Brendon who sat and colored with me. This is not the artist behind the batman picture tacked carelessly on my bulletin board. This Brendon who is sitting in front of me is the result of… well, whatever "tragedy" Mac had mentioned.

My self-loathing hit its peak when I acknowledged I had brought this Brendon back.
My hands shuffled around on the tabletop determined to move and reveal the fact that my insides were twisting around in places that they weren't supposed to, but I forced them to fold together and be still. They were too distracting.

I licked my lips and opened my mouth to spew my rehearsed apology but once my eyes met his, my vocal cords decided that they weren't going to cooperate.

His dark eyes framed by long lashes held the shadow of misery that I could relate to. His world had fallen apart and now I could see the resentment he felt towards me for taking away the little bit of progress he had made. I could see the bitterness that I saw in myself, thoughts of: why did this happen to me? I could see the pure grief brought on by tragedy, the kind that only is brought by losing someone you love more than yourself. I could see all this and the other tangle of emotions that weren't so easily determined, like an open book. I hope I couldn't give that much away to someone, just in one glance. But by the confusion appearing onto Brendon's face I hate to think of what he sees in my eyes, I'm scared to know what he now knows.

In that moment, I knew I couldn't say any of the bullshit that I had rehearsed.

"Brendon." His name rolled off my tongue and he refocused his wandering gaze on me. "Brendon," I restated, "So I wanted you here so that I could apologize and forget that this whole… thing ever happened." He looked stormy so I quickly continued, "But that's not going to work. I just can't do that. So all I can really do is say that I'm sorry that I was a bitch to you and it was completely out of line, and hope that you could find it in you to forgive me. I'm sorry."

His PO'd expression slowly faded and an appraising one took its place, "Did you practice that?" he asked.

I sent his a small, sheepish smile and showed him the scribbled writing on crook of my arm, "This is the one I practiced, I winged it."

He stared at me for a second with a blank face but it soon broke into a small smile, "I forgive you."

"Thank you!" I sighed, very grateful that he decided to.

"And I'm sorry for asking that question in the first place… it was really personal," he replied, "Sometimes I'm not too good with the whole personal space thing."

"Oh it's no problem."

We smiled nervously at each other. I was so relieved that this was off my shoulders and I wasn't too sick of the fact that I was smiling.

"What do say we start over?" Brendon inquired.

"Alright." I can do that. I stuck my hand out, "I'm Parker Clementine Maddox."

He laughed shaking my hand, "Brendon Boyd Urie at your service." He paused, "Now I have to ask this, Clementine, why the change in feelings towards me?"

I narrowed my eyes at the usage of my middle name, "Well, Boyd, I figure: why not? Now tell me about yourself."

He smirked, "I'm an Aries, I enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beaches, and coloring pictures with a pretty girl." I rolled my eyes which he ignored, "What about you?"

"I –" I stopped. I had no idea what to say about myself. I haven't done the "friend" thing for awhile and it's been years since the last time I can actually remember making one. I settled for the truth, "You'll just have to find out."

"Oh, you want to be mysterious… I see." He smiled and I felt some small fraction of my resentment towards the world dissolve.

We started to talk and I steered the conversation towards childhood to avoid blank spots in my life. He was oblivious and that's the way it'll stay for now but eventually he will find out. I'm not ready for that yet.

An hour later, when Mac came down from his apartment to open the diner, he was shocked to find Brendon and I laughing so hard that orange juice was coming out his nose. The moment was priceless.