They claimed to have found the body, and sure enough, a week after his disappearance, Sarah burst into tears when the mortician peeled back the cloth covering Brendon’s bruised and bloody head. His hair was caked in blood, his skin deathly cold, and deep punctures and bites lining his neck. His lips were still stained in Josh’s blood, which had descended on his already-gone spirit all too late for sinful salvation. He lingered in the cold for weeks while Sarah couldn’t bear to finalize the funeral plans and had no idea of how to tell his family, friends, and the world.
“Just sent in the last of my divorce papers.” Pete whispers with cold breath in Patrick’s ear after sneaking up on him after aftering the recording studio.
Patrick jumped, startled, and let out a sigh of relief when he turned around to see the familiar face. “Pete! You scared me!”
“Sorry, babe.” Pete kissed him on the cheek.
“It’s not your fault, I’ve been a bit on edge lately.” Patrick chuckled. “Congrats, I guess? Is it something to be happy about? I don’t know.”
“Well, I suppose it’s a little sad.” Pete picked up his bass guitar, shrugging and then slinging the guitar strap over his shoulders. “But that means I’m no longer married to Meagan Camper, and my official relationship status is steady relationship with Patrick Martin Stump. Let’s celebrate tonight.”
“Sure, what do you want to do?”
“Hm, I didn’t actually think about that part yet.” Pete played a few notes on the guitar, plucking the strings to try and help him think. “Well, we can always go out to eat.”
“I assume you don’t mean an actual dinner.” Patrick groaned.
“You need to get real blood at some point.” Pete rolled up the sleeve of his sweater and pulled down the collar, revealing the numerous scars inflicted upon him in the last few days by Patrick’s teeth. Immediately, guilt ravaged Patrick, but he knew the guilt of killing a human by accident would churn him even further than that moment. “Who knows how long it’ll keep you satiated for?”
“It’s kept me this long, it can a few more days.”
“Patrick, you need to eat real food eventually.” Pete insisted, tracing his finger along Patrick’s jawline and entwining his other hand with Patricks, with his thumb rubbing Patrick’s palm soothingly. “It’s like… going keto. You can only do it for a few months and after that point it’s unhealthy.”
“I don’t think you can compare a diet to drinking blood. Blood is blood.”
“It’s also vampire blood. It was strong enough to turn you, I don’t know what could happen to either of us if you keep drinking it. Please, at least think about it.” Pete begged.
Before Patrick could reply, Joe and Andy came into the room.
“Kinky.” Joe said, pointing to the bitemarks revealed by Pete’s pushed-up sleeve and pulled-down sweater collar. “That’s why you’ve been wearing so many sweaters.”
Pete yanked his hand away from Patrick to pull down his sleeve and re-adjust the neck of his sweater in a hurry, taking longer than it would have as his hands fumble. Thank god biting kinks exist, otherwise Joe and Andy would have been extremely worried.
“You’re the vampire, I thought you were the one who was supposed to like being the one doing the biting.” Joe remarked, and Pete’s face flustered. “How the fuck do you have so many? Damn. Not to intrude on your sex life, but you-” He pointed to Patrick. “-gotta give Pete a break. You guys must fuck like rabbits.”
Under his breath, Patrick started to sing, “Blue rabbits fucking,” to distract from the subject matter and everyone in the room pauses their sex advice. Andy grimaced, Pete started singing along, and Joe began to try to play guitar along to it although failing terribly. Nobody noticed Patrick’s gleaming fangs in place of incisors, but in time, it would become clear as a piece of evidence in accordance to the events about to unfold.
“Sarah Urie?” The mortician asked.
“Yes, that’s me.” She said. “I know, I know, I’m working on the funeral. And I'll let you embalm him eventually, not now.”
“It isn’t about that.” There’s silence for a few words as the mortician tried to put together what to say, and his voice turned pitiful. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Sarah’s mind blazed with all the possibilities. Maybe the cooling system stopped working for the night, or a multitude of bugs got in somehow, or Brendon’s body was accidentally cremated instead of someone else’s, and whatever it is, it was all her fault for delaying any thought of a funeral or telling anyone while she was too stricken with grief to even move some hours.
“Brendon Urie’s body is missing.” He said. “I’m so sorry, I’m getting the police on it right after this call.”
At the word “police”, Sarah’s entire being shuddered and anxiety rose within her. She would have to tell Brendon’s parents and friends and show them the death certificate that she had spilled coffee on by accident while she was wailing hysterically a week before.
“No!” Sarah burst out. “Don’t call the police!”
“But the body may be needed for evidence, it’s a terrible crime that deserves justice.”
“I’ll pay you double for keeping his corpse there that long!” Sarah bargained. “The police already got their autopsy and identification, at this point he’s just a body. He can’t feel anything. The robber can do whatever they want to it, I’m so done! There’s nothing to keep him around for, a corpse can’t be a father or a husband or famous singer no matter how much one pulls it around and moves his jaw to fake talking like a doll. Don’t call the goddamn fucking police, because I don’t give a shit. A closed casket funeral isn’t out of the question.”
“Half a million dollars for you to keep quiet!” Sarah promised. “Half a million dollars! That’s more than enough, isn’t it? You could pay for your children’s college tuition multiple times, or retire in luxury. You won’t be doing any harm by letting his body go, I know that’s what he would want for certain.”
There was silence as the mortician debated his options.
“Fine. I’ll take the bribe.” He said. “I very much appreciate it. I apologize for your loss.”
“I’ll bring the check tomorrow. Email me who to make it out to.” Sarah coldly ordered, and hung up the phone.
Patrick woke up shivering with goosebumps lining his skin. He shot up, eyes wide open, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. In replacement of a normally rapid heartbeat after a nightmare, there was only the strange feeling of fear and what seemed to be bloodlust.
It wasn’t real, he told himself. All looked well, he was sitting in his bed in his peaceful bedroom with streaks of moonlight coming through gaps in the curtains and landing on Pete, who was curled up next to Patrick.
However, Patrick just couldn’t remove the nightmare from his mind. He could only imagine the massacre of innocent hundreds under his gnashing teeth at a concert, over and over and over again, the dream recurring nearly every night.
And especially with his recent vampirism, it felt like it would never go away until it happened for real.