Cancer

Banner by NorthernDownpour. <3

It was already nine o'clock by the time I had fled from the restaurant and was speeding down the darkened road that lead to Brendon's apartment building in the back of a yellow checkered cab. There was a surprising amount of traffic out for a Thursday night (but hey, it's Vegas), and I found myself vehemently cursing every other car on the road as the cab driver had to stop at stoplight after stoplight. My knuckles were turning white as I clenched my hands into fists in my lap, my lower lip bleeding from biting it too hard: I was far too anxious to have any patience with the rest of the world at the moment.

Nearly forty minutes later, we finally arrived at the apartment building, and I handed the driver his money and stumbled out of the cab breathlessly. Standing there alone in the parking lot--sad, happy, relieved, afraid, panting and disheveled--Brendon's apartment building towered above me, white and imposing with all sixteen stories stretching endlessly into the night sky.

For a moment, I was paralyzed with terror at the thought of what I was about to do.

But then I pushed the fear from my mind and walked into the lobby with purpose, avoiding all my panicked thoughts. There was no reason to be afraid of this. It was exactly what I needed--the cure to my disease, which was only, when you got right down to it, my own needless fear.

I looked pretty rough as I crossed the lobby to the luxurious elevator, but despite the snobbish looks I drew from a few of the people lounging around the lobby, no one asked me what I was doing here or pointed out that I had entered a world that didn't belong to me. Maybe it bothered them less than it bothered me. Or maybe it really didn't matter.

Maybe I really could do this. Maybe I could exist peacefully in Brendon's world.

The elevator doors slid open with a single cheerful ring to reveal a single person: a tall, thin girl with wispy blonde hair and delicate, barely-visible bones lurking like shadows beneath the semi-translucent skin of her chest. As she turned up her nose and walked past me as if I wasn't there, I finally recognized her as the star of one of my favorite TV shows.

Okay...so maybe I couldn't do this.

Again, I clenched my fists at my sides and forced myself to be brave. I stepped forward into the emptied elevator and waited for the long ride up fifteen floors to Brendon's penthouse.

The whole time, I was fighting the urge to stop the elevator at the nearest floor and then go back down, to run away again and spend forever alone in New York City. Being afraid, running away, letting the cancer have me--that was the easy way out. It would be so much easier than this.

But I had to do what was right. For me. For Brendon. For everyone. I had to fix this again.

The elevator doors opened again, startling me out of my thoughts. I hadn't realized that I was here already.

Palms sweating, chest heaving, I stepped out of the elevator and crossed the small space between the elevator and Brendon's front door. I rang the doorbell and waited with unbearable anticipation for someone--preferably Brendon--to answer the door.

Almost a full minute later, the door finally opened, but the boy who stuck his head out then was not Brendon at all.

"Oh--hi." As his expression clouded over with confusion and surprise, a fleeting memory of the last night I had spent here crossed my mind, and I recognized him as Brendon's roommate. Of course.

"Hi," I said nervously, biting my lip and fidgeting. I couldn't help it. "Um...is Brendon here?"

His face fell and I felt my heart sink lower in my chest along with it.

"No, uh..." Brendon's roommate rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes regretful and sad as he met my gaze. "Actually, he's not. He, uh...he left already, you missed him. Sorry."

"Oh." I couldn't hide the pain in my voice as it cracked hideously on the single, shocked syllable. "Okay. Um. Thank you."

Defeated, I turned to walk away, already forgetting Brendon's roommate as I felt the first tendrils of despair begin to take hold deep inside of me. I pressed the button to go back down to the ground floor and let the feeling of desolation take me under as I waited for the elevator to come back and take me away.

I had forgotten Brendon's roommate was even there until he cleared his throat, yanking me out of my thoughts.

"Uh, hey..." he said uncomfortably. I turned around just enough to look at him. "I can, um... I can give him a message for you or something, if you want. He's supposed to call back tomorrow."

I think he knew my answer even before I did, though, because his expression turned even gloomier as soon as the words left his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder into the darkness of the apartment he shared with Brendon, as if paying his respects to Brendon's ghost.

"No," I replied, and I was momentarily surprised by how steady, how sure my voice sounded--almost like I had it all together (which I didn't, of course). "That's okay. Thanks anyway, though."

He nodded grimly and retreated back into the empty apartment, and as I watched him go, I knew that the memory of that closing door would stay with me forever.

-----

Failure.

It seemed so obvious to me now. Of course I wouldn't get to Brendon in time. Of course I wouldn't be able to fix things at the last minute. I had wasted two whole years just letting everything go to ruin--how would I ever be able to fix it in one night?

I didn't deserve that.

I deserved the cancer, I guess. I deserved to wallow in my own misery, alone. I deserved to live with what I had done.

That was all I was thinking about as I made the long, dreary walk back to the hotel room I had been sharing with my mother for far too long now. I wasn't wondering where Brendon was or why he had left a day earlier than he had said in his note; I wasn't even considering going after him. He was gone, and that was it. I had missed my chance.

When I let myself into the hotel room, shutting the door softly behind me, it was after ten o'clock and Mom was still awake. She was sitting on her bed on the far side of the room, half-hidden by her wide array of pillows, as usual, rereading one of her favorite romance novels for the fifth time. There was no box of Kleenex anywhere near her tonight, though--there hadn't been for a while. Slowly but surely, Mom was moving on, getting past the loss of Dad.

Maybe someday I could do the same.

She looked up when I came in, tipping her square, black reading glasses farther down on her nose so that she could look at me over the top of them. At first she just looked shrewd and hopeful, but as she took in my expression, her face fell.

"Oh, honey," she cooed sympathetically, laying her book down on the bed beside her. "What happened?"

I sat down on the edge of my own bed so that I was facing her. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to meet her gaze, so I looked away, down at the dirty, ugly-patterned carpet. "Nothing. He's just...he left already. He wasn't there. That's all."

Mom was silent for a long moment. And then, finally: "Where is he?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess they left to tour."

"Are you going to try to find him again?" she asked me quietly.

"No," I murmured. I mentally berated myself as I started to cry, but I just couldn't help it. "I'm just gonna let him go, Mom."

"Oh, Kelsey, sweetheart..."

Shoving the pillows off of the bed to make room for me, Mom reached out and dragged me across the small space between our beds, pulling me up against her. I cried on her shoulder for a long time as she rocked me back and forth, stroking my hair and whispering soothingly in my ear. She comforted me like that for a few minutes, and then she fell silent herself, and we sat there together, holding each other and not speaking.

She was crying, too.

And I just remember thinking that maybe I couldn't do this either. Maybe I would never get over Brendon. Maybe I would never stop crying on the inside. Maybe someday I would be fifty years old and walling myself in with pillows at night, feeding off of sappy romance novels to keep the cancerous heartbreak at bay. Maybe, despite all the fierce resentment for her I had built up throughout my life, I would be just like Mom one day.

-----

I wasn't completely devastated by the loss of Brendon--at least not yet--as much as I was just numb. Suddenly, nothing mattered to me anymore--not eating, not sleeping, nothing. I didn't care.

So I wasn't planning on waking up at any particular time on Friday (sleeping all day would have been my first choice, honestly), but, unfortunately, my own plans were shattered when the phone rang shortly after ten o'clock in the morning and woke me up.

"Hello?" I mumbled sleepily into the receiver, after a brief struggle with the sheets I was currently tangled up in.

It was my real estate agent, reminding me of the closing on Dad's house I was supposed to be at about...oh, half an hour ago.

Shit.

"Oh my God--I'm so sorry, I completely forgot," I spluttered. "I'll be right there, I promise--I just--I've had a really hectic week, I'm sorry--"

"That's okay, honey. I understand," said the real estate agent sympathetically, and I'm sure it was the truth. She probably sold houses for people who's family members had just died all the time. It's easy to forget when you're experiencing it, but the world is an ugly place and sorrow is routine here. "Just try to get here as soon as you can so we can sign the papers, alright?"

"Okay," I choked out gratefully. "Thank you. Bye."

I hung up the phone and darted around the hotel room, trying to get ready as quickly as possible. It was stressful, but I was almost sort of grateful for my own screw-up, because it gave me a distraction that should last for at least most of the afternoon.

And distract me it did.

On the way to Dad's house--where the closing was to take place--I wasn't thinking about me, or Brendon, or Mom, or even Dad's house. I was thinking about Dad.

I was thinking about the way he had always been there for me, but had never planted ideas in my hand or pushed me to do something I didn't want to. I was thinking about how, after I left Vegas and ran away to New York, he kept bringing Brendon up in conversation when we talked on the phone. I guess he liked Brendon.

And he wouldn't want to see me this way now--he would want me to be happy. He would want Mom to be happy. He would want me to resolve whatever feud I had going with Brendon, with the city, with what my mother had put me through at such an early age, and move on. And he would want Mom to do the same.

As we drove down the familiar back roads that led to the suburb that Brendon and I spent so much of our short time together in, I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers and prayed to get better, to heal, to be happy again. To move on. To be cured. It was all my fault, of course, but maybe I had time to redeem myself...maybe I could be okay again someday--without Dad, without Vegas, without Brendon.

I wasn't sure if I could do it. So I prayed, wished...hoped.

-----

Half an hour later, I got out of the cab and the real estate agent was standing there on the sidewalk, next to her car, which was parked on the shoulder. Dreading this official business just a little, I approached her slowly, my polite smile strained.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized again. "I just--I forgot completely and overslept--"

"It's okay, ma'am," she said sincerely, forcing a smile in return. "I understand. Now, everyone else has signed the papers, so if you would just..."

She pointed out where to sign on the contracts (in three different places) and I did so with only a little apprehension. I didn't bother to read most of the papers, but just skimmed over them briefly. I didn't really care what my obligations were, and I wasn't concerned about somehow getting ripped off--I was now walking in a dream world where nothing really mattered anymore.

"Is that it?" I asked as the agent began stuffing the papers into some official-looking folder with a satisfied look on her face.

"Yep," she replied cheerfully. "That's it. Congratulations, Ms. Matthews: You've sold the house!"

"Oh...wow," was all I could think to say. "That was...easy."

She laughed a little as she walked around the side of her car, opening the driver's side door and stowing her things inside. "It sure was. The buyer's still inside checking out the house if you want to meet him. He signed everything he needed to sign before you got here."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

"No, thank you." She winked at me and ducked into her car, smiling hugely as she drove away. I guess selling a two-million-dollar house and getting an ungodly chunk of the profits does that to a person.

I stood there on the sidewalk alone for a moment, staring unseeingly down the road where I could no longer see the agent's car, lost in thought. Presently, I remembered where I was and what I was doing here, and turned my attention instead to the enormous house that used to be Dad's. That used to be mine.

Purposely turning a blind eye to the house next door (Don't even go there, Kelsey, please!), I turned and made my way slowly up the front walk to the wide porch I had spent so many afternoons on. I reached the front door and was momentarily torn between ringing the doorbell, knocking, or just letting myself in--after all, it didn't technically belong to me anymore.

I ended up letting myself in, and what I saw then knocked me completely breathless.

Everything was exactly the same.

There were all the same pictures hanging on the walls, the same chandelier hanging from the ceiling and diffusing soft light into the foyer. Through the open doors to the left and right, I could see the same kitchen table on the left, the same formal parlor on the right. And, slumped over on that damn authentic Italian bench there in the foyer, there was none other than the same Brendon Urie I had fallen in love with so long ago.

He was leaning over slightly, his elbows braced against his knees and his face buried in his hands; he looked up when he heard me walk in and close the door behind me. His expression was stricken, caught somewhere between horror and joy and pure adoration and surprise, and slowly, slowly, he straightened up, his eyes never once leaving mine.

"I--I--didn't think you would show," he said haltingly. Like he was apologizing. I couldn't make sense of it.

For one impossibly long moment, I couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't think--could only blink at him a few times in utter shock. Then I finally managed to choke out, "You...you bought the house?"

"Well...yeah." He frowned like it should have been obvious to me all along, like there was no other way things could have played out, as he got to his feet and carefully made his way across the foyer to me. The pain left his face as he smiled a small smile full of warmth, his eyes glowing happily at me. "I mean, I couldn't just let you sell it to some stranger. Too many good memories here."

He must have seen the truth there in my face, because he beamed at me suddenly, his whole face breaking out in the most radiant smile I've ever seen. And I knew in that moment that I would always love him, that I could never move on--the way I felt about him was undeniable, and I was stupid to ever try to fight it in the first place.

I threw myself against him, clinging to him; he held me back just as tightly, stroking my hair comfortingly and kissing my temply as I began to cry again.

"I'm so--s-sorry, Brendon," I sobbed into his chest. "I was so--so stupid--I'm sorry--"

"Shhh," he murmured, kissing the top of my head. "It's okay. It's okay now. Don't cry."

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I screwed up everything--"

"No, you didn't," he whispered. His lips brushed the tender skin just under my neck and I shivered. "It's okay now. Everything's gonna be okay."

He held me like that for a long time while I cried, his warm breath caressing my face and neck as he murmured comforting words to me. I was just so relieved, so completely happy and whole again that I couldn't stop crying--couldn't stop thanking Mom and Dad and Brendon and God, or whatever it is out there that helped me fix everything, for helping me find my own cure.

After a few blissfully long minutes had passed, I stopped crying and pulled away from Brendon just far enough to look him in the eyes. "I really am sorry," I said honestly. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was all my fault, and I blamed everything on you. I was stupid--"

"You're not stupid," said Brendon firmly, his expression kind and understanding. "You were just hurt. And I know it's hard, my lifestyle--and I should have handled it better--"

"No," I insisted, "it wasn't your fault--"

"But I promise, Kels, I won't ever do that to you again. I won't ever put you through that--not for anything," he vowed. "I'll quit tour, I'll quit the band--whatever it takes--"

"I don't want you to do that."

He sighed. "I just want to make you happy. Just tell me what to do to make you happy again, Kelsey."

"You've already made me happy," I said quietly, touching his face gently. "Just taking me back--just giving me another chance--forgiving me--"

"Kelsey..." He chuckled humorlessly. "There's nothing to forgive."

"Sure there is." I sighed, wincing a little at the memory of the past few years. "I was such a stubborn bitch...and I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay, Kels." Grinning like the carefree teenage boy he used to be--the boy I fell in love with, the boy who meant more to me than anyone else ever had--he reached up to ruffle my hair playfully, his face full of shining adoration. "I always knew you'd come back for me."

And then I laughed freely, like I hadn't laughed in years, as he pulled me into him again and kissed me softly on the lips, so that I could feel him smiling back. And when he released me again, beaming triumphantly at me like the carefree teenage boy he had always been, it was clear that his hope had never died and never would. That was what I loved best about him, after all--that indomitable hope.

"Come on," said Brendon, smirking as he took my hand and pulled me towards the stairs. "Lets go pick out our room."

Then we laughed at nothing (just because we were happy, we were in love, we were okay again, and then some) as we walked up the stairs side-by-side, hand-in-hand, together--starting over again in Vegas.