We Used to See with Wide Eyes

Revelations are unsettling.

Just when you think you've figured your life out. Something or in my case someone comes along. Because, you see, I may try to put on this unapproachable sarcastic front, but what I really want is that human company. I crave it, but at the same time I'm frightened at the prospect of caring enough about someone to let myself be vulnerable. I'm terrified that once I find out what I'm missing, something will go wrong, and I will back in this miserable state of being… but worse.

Brendon is the very sort of person who is willing to break down these crumbling barriers I've put up, but once they're gone, I don't know if I'll have the strength to put them back up again. I'll be out in the open and one only to be taken advantage of.

I could try this friendship thing again. I could try to forget that there's every possibility that once he gets to know the true me, he'll drop me faster than a hot poker. I could try and ignore the fact that I might end up lonelier than I am now. Or I could see the glass half full. Maybe this will be the best decision I've ever made. Maybe it will be. Just maybe.

I'll bet on maybe.

So this morning, when the bells chimed and the doors opened. My mind was open too. I decided that wherever today would take me would be where it would take me. A go with the flow type of attitude. Try to be like I used to be. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing, but it was ok. Not good. But ok.

"Hello!" he trilled happily, settling down across from me, "If at all possible, if we could avoid a repeat of last time's uh orange juice incident that would be fantastic. I was snorting up pulp all of yesterday."

"Lovely… thank you for sharing," I replied, wrinkling up my nose in distaste.

"Sharing is caring," he said shooting me a cheesy smile, "Now what should we do today?"

"Actually, after breakfast I told Lola that I would watch Carla," I said apologetically. It was part of my plan: to ease myself into spending time with him.

Too bad he foils all those plans.

"Great! Carla loves me, so that'll be fun."

Damn.

After he had inhaled his pancakes (I had already eaten) we made our way upstairs and said goodbye to a very grateful Lola.

"You have no idea how much you just helped be out, you two, now I can go see my grandson's trumpet recital," she gushed, before running out the door leaving Brendon and I standing in the living room.

I thought it was slightly awkward just standing there but Brendon didn't say anything, for once, and hummed quietly to himself looking around the room.

He was the first to talk however, "It really hasn't changed at all," he looked at me, "in here, I mean. I haven't been in here in years."

I nodded and opened my mouth to agree, but I was interrupted by Carla's voice, "Brendon Urie is that you?"

She tottered over to us, after appearing in a doorway, and turned him as to see him better, "My you look older every time I see you. Are you famous yet?"

Brendon's face darkened with a blush and he ignored the questioning glance I threw at him, "How are you doing, Carla?" he asked, concerned.

She looked confused for a minute, "Sometimes I can't remember things right, but I am certainly doing fine. Now play me something young man."

He nodded and ducked out of the room.

Carla turned to me, and a loose frizz trailed along behind, I grimaced, expecting the same heart wrenching questions that she always asked me.

But as she motioned for me to sit down as she did the same, things took a different direction thought when she instead said, "Now what's that frown for?"

Her eyes were the clearest I had ever seen them in memory, that was one thing I wasn't regretting missing, remembering that downward spiral that I know had happened.

Those sharp-again eyes studied me, not shrewdly but inquiringly, "I wasn't aware that you knew Brendon."

"Well," I said, "I actually just met him this past week."

An expression of thoughtfulness that I was unused to crossed her face, "I'm surprised you two haven't met before, what with all the time that you and Liam spend here," she mused, unaware of her mistake.

I choked on my latest breath but managed to pass it off as a random coughing fit, "He's uh grounded," I forced out, "Broke curfew again."

A twinkle entered her eye, "And to think he used to be the more responsible one."

I tried flashing a weak smile in her direction, and to my relief any questioning looks were deflected by Brendon's reappearance. In his hands was an old, beat up acoustic guitar and a dark pick sat between his lips.

"Brendon!" Carla exclaimed, she apparently hadn't noticed my quite obvious reaction, "I was just talking to Parker about how strange it was that you hadn't met before."

After taking the pick from his mouth he remarked quietly, "That is kind of weird…"

"I guess you don't go to the same school though," Cara added.

My eyes snapped to Brendon, as I was unsure what to say, his held the same mixture of discomfort and sadness that echoed my feelings. Carla was obviously not in touch with the present, and although this pained me it seemed worth it to have her this alert.

My pity for Mac was unyielding; it was so unfair for both of them. They were such good people and if any person was to deserve this, it certainly wouldn't be her. Then again, when has life been fair? It doesn't seem to matter if you are good or bad or just in between, life treats you the same and shows no mercy.

Realizing that neither one of us had given Carla an answer, I gave her a mumbled agreement and occupied myself with grabbing her sketchbook in front of me and flipped through the different charcoal drawings.

At the same time, Carla started to plead with Brendon, asking him to play one of his own songs. Despite her requests he refused and turned to me, "Parker, what song should I play?"

"Ummm," I racked my brain, "Any song?"

"Any song," he repeated confidently… too confidently.

I smirked a bit as a song popped into my head, let's see him play this one, "Play Don't Stop Believin'."

He groaned, "You do realize that this is an acoustic guitar… right?"

"Yeah," my smirk grew, "You said any song! Can you not do it?"

"I haven't played it for a long time," he warned.

Carla stopped his excuses, "Brendon just play the song already!"

"Alright alright," he laughed,

However, before he set his fingers to the chords, he shot a glance at me, one that I don't think he thought I saw as I was looking a drawing of a vase of flowers. I'm not quite sure if that glance meant anything, but I would swear that he looked pleasantly surprised.

And then he was playing, and pulling it off. I looked up, without an electric guitar he was even able to pull of the solo and make it sound pretty cool.

I found that I loved watching him play. I've always had that fascination with musicians. They always make playing look so effortless but I know that it would take me ages to do something as simple as changing chords. But his fingers moved fluidly from one fret to the next and contorting into positions that I don't think mine are capable of. And he said he hadn't played this in awhile! In any case, he was really good and he the guitar looked so natural in his hands.

When he was done, Carla burst into a flurry of applause, flushed, and I joined in quite half-heartedly as Brendon raised his eyebrows as if to say "What now?" challengingly.

"Ok so you're good," I said languidly.

"Good," he snorted jokingly, "I am better than good." He set the guitar down in one swift move and stretched back in his chair, "I should be," he muttered to himself.

"Well you are just going to be the best someday," Carla told Brendon, and stood up, "You boys will make it –"

She swayed on the spot, her face turning whiter by the second, and then Brendon was there. Concern etched in his face, he accepted my help in supporting her as I too leapt up.

We stood there until there seemed no chance of her falling, when we cautiously let go, she put a tremoring hand to her head and said, "I'm sorry, I think I just need to go lie down for a little while."

I frowned, she looked bad, and I didn't like the knot forming in my stomach as I watched Brendon help her to her room. How long was this going to last? The bottom of my stomach dropped out as I realized that it wasn't going to end, and that it would only get worse until… No, don't think about that.

I sighed and sat down again, sinking back into the well used love seat. Twiddling my thumbs, I waited for Brendon to come back, and as I did the sketchbook caught my eye again.

As I flipped through the pages, one in particular caught my eye. Dated from two days ago, two people, who were undoubtedly Brendon and me, sat in a booth inside the diner. My shaded face was looking at Brendon with a little smile and for once my eyes looked happy as well. Brendon who was also smiling was looking down at his hands fiddling with a straw wrapper. The title of the piece, carefully written in cursive at the top was 'she smiles'.

Before any kind of emotion could bubble to the surface, I flung the cover shut and quickly set it on the coffee table. I picked up another sketchbook, obviously old and worn and opened it to distract myself.

The first page was Brendon… a much younger Brendon but him all the same. Looking like a freshman in high school, he had rectangular glasses, hair that spiked out a little in the front and shiny braces on his teeth. It made me smile a real smile – he looked adorably nerdy.

"What do you have?" Brendon's voice startled me and I gave an all too noticeable leap of fright.

He laughed at my twitching but it turned to a groan when as he sat down next to me and saw the the drawing. Shutting his eyes as if the sight pained him, he covered his face in his hand and said, "Please don't say that's me…"

I lofted the picture in a more viewable position, "I see you went through those awkward teenage years..."

He laughed his cheeks dark behind his hands, "So my freshman and sophomore years were a little rough," he looked up, "I had the triple threat – bad hair, glasses, and braces. I guess it happens to everyone though."

I fidgeted guiltily.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, that time just kinda skipped me."

He didn't believe me. But it was true, my growth over the years had been slow and steady, so I didn't have to take time to grow into limbs. Also I've never had the need for braces or glasses and my hair has always behaved… lucky genes, I guess.

"Well until now," I muttered under my breath.

Unfortunately he heard me, and as he looked at me his head tilted to the side a little. The motion reminded me of a curious dog, and for a brief moment I wanted to laugh out loud.

But then the awkwardness hit, "Never mind."

Thankfully he let it go.

Just to have something to do, I flipped the page of the sketchbook again and there was Brendon again, standing with three other boys. Still a teenager, but braces free, he and the others seemed to be following that oversaturated emo-ish fad that was finally slowly dying. Although, I guess back then, it would've been the sort of underground movement not the MySpace thing it's been for awhile. His thin arms were slung over the shoulders of a boy with a round face and an extremely skinny boy. They were all smiling widely and totally cheesing. Another boy was standing a little off the side, striking a guitar hero pose.

"You did come here a lot when you were younger… didn’t you?" I mused, glancing next to me.

"Yeah I did. Did you? You do a lot now but…"

"Yeah," I said, "Favorite place to come after school."

He furrowed his brow in thought, "Where did you go to school?"

"Bishop Gorman, it's in south-ish Summerlin and its private Catholic, I didn't really like it..." I replied, "Where did you –" I stopped.

Brendon had froze,. He was paler than normal and drained. A second later, before I could ask, he was answering my unfinished question and completely composed, "I went to Palo Verde."

Tactfully, I avoided mentioning or even acknowledging the slipping of his mask, "We played you guys in sports and stuff so I am surprised I haven't seen you."

He gave a short laugh, "Except I wasn't really into sports. I was just a band geek."

I smiled, "Believe it or not I used to be really into soccer, played varsity starting in freshman year. But you wouldn't guess that now…"

He tilted his head again and I could tell that the brief wave of emotion pain… or whatever that was had passed, instead he was intrigued, "What do you mean?"

I hesitated for a moment, but then trusting that part of my brain that wanted to tell him, I continued, "Well I was sporty, easy to approach, and blonde."

"I approached you… didn't I?" he said easily, habitually running his fingers along the piano and flower tattoo on his forearm.

That made me smile a little.

"I'm thirsty, gonna go get some coke… you want any?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Nah I'm good."

As I stood up to go get the coke that I was craving my foot caught Brendon's shoe as I was stepping past him and I tripped, catching myself at the last second with my hands.

"Ouch," I rolled onto my back, clutching my wrists and cursing the accident, my coordination hasn't been the same since.

As Brendon leapt up, not unlike he did for Carla, and held out his hand to help me up, and I couldn't help but feel like this had happened before.

I grabbed his hand and assured him I was fine but something was itching at the back of my mind - and then it hit me. Not a memory like the others as I didn't lose touch with reality but a memory all the same. I closed my eyes and I could remember faintly the time I had borrowed Liam skateboard and tried it out in front of the diner. I was probably 7 or 8 at the time.

Being the smart girl I was I hadn't bothered with kneepads or a helmet, after all, Lee didn't use them. Of course he had been doing it for a year, but I was confident that it would be easy.

So trying to pop my first ollie, I majorly wiped out and was sitting on the sidewalk with a hole torn in my favorite pants sniffling when a boy about my age came up to me.

"Are you ok?" he had asked standing over me, concern in his big brown eyes.

"Yeah," I sniffled wiping my eyes, not wanting to be caught crying.

To my surprise, he sat down next to me criss cross apple sauce in front of me on the warm pavement, "You should wear a helmet," he said.

"Yeah, that's what my mom said," I said.

He looked down at my torn pink jeans, "I like your pants."

I didn't quite know what to think of this boy but he seemed nice, "Thanks, they're my favorite."

He stood up and held out his hand and tried to help me out. He then walked over and got Lee's skateboard from where it was lying upside down a few feet away on the sidewalk and brought it to me.

"Do you want me to show you something?" he asked fingering the neon yellow wheels.

"You skateboard?" I was impressed.

"Yeah," he smiled widely.

"Show me!" I said excitedly.

Setting it on the ground he rolled a few feet away and then got up some speed and did some sort of kick spin thing that looked really awesome.

"Wow!" I was in awe as he skated back towards me. He was better than Liam!

"I like it a lot…" he trailed off as a voice called an indistinguishable name from inside the diner, "That's my mom. I gotta go."

"Bye," I said, smiled and gave a little wave.

He gave a little wave as well and ran inside the diner.

I looked down at the board in front of me and decided that I was going to be better than Liam at skateboarding. Eventually I was.

"What is it?" Brendon's voice brought me back to reality. I had been staring at him with a thoughtful and confused expression for a little while.

"I just…" I stopped, "I just think I remember you."

"What?"

I explained, "When I was little I wanted to learn how to skateboard cause my brother could do it and I think you helped me one time, in front of the diner," recognition was dawning on his face," It might not have been you but-"

He interrupted me, "Were you wearing pink pants?"

"Yeah," I smiled.

"They were your favorite?" he bit his lip.

I nodded, "And you were a regular skater boy."

He pumped a fist in the air, "Hell yes!"

"Brendon Boyd Urie," Carla's voice was sharp from the doorway, "You watch your language."

He cringed but his eyes were laughing.

He made me smile.