Cancer

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The world felt slow and hazy around me. We were still in that loud, crowded club, and all those people were still there, but they weren't really. Sitting there in the dark at that small table, it was just me, Brendon, and this electric feeling between us that had never really faded.

And then I looked up at him, and his face, however lined and weary and unshaven it may be these days, was radiant with a sudden flicker of hope and I understood all at once why I had fallen in love with him all those years ago.

Before that moment, I had not known why, and that was what had made me so miserable. Before that moment, I had not known I was in love with him at all.

And now I understood.

He was so beautiful. On a thousand different levels, he was beautiful. He was kind and good and sweet and real. He was so real. He was the most real person I had ever met because every move he made, every word he said, every smile came naturally to him.

And he never gave up. He never, ever gave up. He was so hopeful, so full of faith and trust and love.

That hope--the hope I had never allowed myself to nurture, except with him--the hope I had allowed my mother and the rest of the world to squash--the hope I had thought had died in him, too--that hope was still there, shining gloriously in his face. And it always would be, I knew, because that was just Brendon. He would never give up his hope. Never.

I had never had hope, but he had right from the start. That was why I was so drawn to him, that was why I adored him so, why he had so easily become my everything--because he was my other half. He made up for what I lacked.

And that was why I was in love with him. Why I would always be.

And why I was still terrified.

"Brendon..." I stammered. "I don't...I..."

"Is it really so bad, Kelsey?" he breathed, his whole face screwed up in anticipation. "Was that really so terrible of me?"

"It...it hurt..." I choked out haltingly. I had to look away--I would never get the words out as long as I could see that hope still gleaming there in his eyes, after all these years. "I don't think you can know how much it hurt. I can't...I can't tell you how much it hurt, Brendon."

And then his words spilled out in one desperate rush: "I know, I know. I'm so sorry, Kels, I'm so sorry..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him move, and when I turned back to him again, his face was hidden behind his hands--I couldn't really see, but it sounded he was crying a little. My throat felt thick and dry and I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what to say or how to say it.

"I'm just...I'm so sorry." His voice sounded oddly constricted as he struggled to stop crying. "As long as I live, I'll never forgive myself. I'm so sorry..."

I waited for him to regain his composure. My heartbeat was thundering frantically in my ears and I was torn: part of me wanted nothing more than to accept his apology and run into his arms again and live happily ever after, but another part of me was still convinced that that could never happen.

After about a minute had passed, Brendon dropped his hands away from his face and looked up at me, his eyes dark with pain, but bright with the intensity of his undying hope. "Can't you forgive me, Kelsey?" he begged me, his face red and blotchy and pleading and, most of all, still beautiful.

I forced myself to remember the epiphany I had had the other night: I wasn't happy because I refused to give Brendon a second chance. By stubbornly pushing him away again and again, I was making us both miserable.

But as much as I wanted to take him back, and as much as I knew it would make us both happier in the end, it still seemed like an impossibility to me--like it wasn't even an option somehow.

I took a deep breath and spoke the only words I had the strength left to: "I don't...think I can, Brendon."

I had prepared to watch his hopeful expression crumple, but he wasn't giving up that easily. Of course he wasn't. Wasn't that why I loved him so? And why I was so afraid of him, of the way he made me feel, still?

"Please, Kelsey," he whispered desperately. "Please, just give me one more chance--"

"I can't let you do that to me again, Brendon!" My voice hitched up sharply at the end as the past two years came back to me in a flash of memory, and I forced myself to be angry--if I could be angry with him, then maybe I wouldn't love him so much, maybe he wouldn't have so much power over me and he couldn't hurt me again. "I can't take it. I can't get through that again--"

"I won't do it again!" he swore, and his tone matched mine in its own shrill fury. "I promise you, I won't ever do it again! I swear to God, if you just give me one more chance, Kelsey..." The words got stuck his throat and his promises came to a halting stop as his face reddened with anger and passion.

The more I pushed, the more he pulled, and we were just angry with each other now--angry because of all the stupid things we had put each other through, for no reason other than because we were both afraid, too: I was afraid to get hurt and he was afraid of hurting me. It was such a vicious cycle, never-ending and completely pointless. We should have been above such foolishness.

But love makes people crazy. Especially in regards to the person they love.

All of the sudden, I couldn't stand it--I couldn't stand sitting there watching him fall to pieces the same way I was and know that it was my fault, that it was his fault, that it was everyone's fault and no one had stepped in to save us because of our own despicable human flaws. I couldn't stand yelling at him like that and waiting for him to yell back, all while the people around us stared and whispered amongst themselves, judging us.

What right did they have to judge us? They didn't know us. They didn't know how much I loved him, how hard I had tried all along, and how I had failed anyway, simply because of the way I was raised. They didn't know what it was like to love a Vegas boy when that was what you had feared the most all your life.

And they didn't know Brendon. They couldn't see the look in his eyes now, and if they could have, it wouldn't have meant something to them the way it did to me. They didn't know how things were between the two of us, how much even the good things hurt in the end.

It just wasn't right. We tried so hard and failed anyway, and no one else understood--they judged us for it. It wasn't right, and suddenly I was just so angry--I was angry with Brendon and Ryan and all of those stupid people watching us, but mostly, I was angry with myself. I was so angry with myself. It was all my fault.

And suddenly, I just couldn't stand to look at Brendon anymore.

I got up abruptly and stormed off, headed in the direction of a dark hallway that ended up leading into some kind of small coat room. I just wanted to be alone with all my unjustified hate, but of course Brendon never let me have my way when my logic was flawed.

He followed me into the tiny closet-room with fluorescent lighting and shut the door behind us.

"Kelsey..." he murmured softly. I couldn't understand the pain in his eyes and the soothing tone of his voice until he moved closer to me and reached out and pulled me into him, and I curled automatically into his chest--it was only then that I felt the pool of moisture I left on his shoulder and I realized that I was crying. "Shhh...don't cry. It's okay. Please don't cry."

He rubbed my back and stroked my hair gently, and a few times I thought I felt his lips brush my forehead gently. I didn't mind. I didn't care about anything anymore. I just really wanted to put all of this behind me, but I didn't know how to.

"Can I tell you about why I did it?" he whispered softly.

I bit my lip to try and stifle the tears and nodded a little into his chest.

"I thought that...I thought that maybe...when this whole Panic craze blew over and no one cared about Brendon Urie anymore..." He paused and chuckled once, humorlessly--it was a self-deprecating sound, like he couldn't imagine why anyone would care about Brendon Urie in the first place. "I thought I could come back to Vegas and we could be together again, and I could make you happy like you deserve to be. But then I came back...and you were gone."

So I was the one who had done the leaving. I was the one who had misunderstood, jumped to conclusions and ended our relationship. And I was the one who kept stomping it out again every time he tried to fix things between us.

But I didn't see any other option. I didn't think I was capable of forgiveness.

Fresh tears stung my eyes bitterly, and I couldn't hold them back; they spilled down my face and soaked into the front of his shirt. "I'm sorry," I sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. "I'm so sorry, Brendon, I just...I just can't..."

His arms tightened around me, pulling me into him so forcefully that it almost hurt. And I guess maybe it was just a reflex reaction against what he knew was coming next--letting me go--but at the time, it just felt like he was holding me together in the single moment when I was the closest to falling apart, and I was grateful.

And then he let me go.

"It's okay, Kels," he said quietly, his eyes soft and sad. "I understand. It's okay."

His mouth opened as if he was about to say something else, but then he stopped and closed it again. I waited patiently.

"I promise I won't bother you anymore," he said finally. "I won't call you or anything. I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want."

I couldn't find the strength to nod, and anyway, that would have been a lie. Though I had done everything I could to put space between us, I couldn't say it was actually what I wanted.

In the face of his sudden calmness I stopped crying, though somehow, the acceptance in his eyes made me feel infinitely more miserable as he reached up and wiped the last of my tears away with both of his hands. His hands felt soft and smooth and warm as they moved to grip both sides of my face.

I knew what he was about to do even before he kissed me, and I didn't stop him. I didn't want to stop him. I wanted to feel him against me one last time.

He pressed his lips to mine softly, gently--more adoringly than I could ever remember. He pulled away after what seemed like only a few seconds and once again, the look in his eyes broke my heart, but somehow, I felt a little more whole than I had before he kissed me.

"Goodbye, Kelsey," said Brendon.

"Goodbye, Brendon." My voice shook. I would never be as brave, as hopeful and confident, as he was.

He gave me a small, watery smile that looked genuine despite its sadness as he reached up to tuck a loose strand of my hair behind one ear. His fingers lingered against the soft skin of my cheek for a moment longer than necessary and he gave me one last, long look, as if memorizing my face. Then he turned and walked away, a peaceful sort of regret in his face. He shut the door behind him and suddenly, I was truly alone.