I enter the plain white room. The floor is covered with disgusting grey carpet which looks like it’s been here since 80’. The room has two beds which are pushed against the walls, facing each other. Each bed has its own closet. There is also another door, probably leading to the bathroom.
I walk to the bed on the right side of the room and lay my duffel bag on the top of it. The bed is not anything special and it doesn’t look really comfy, but at least it’s clean.
I wonder who is going to be my roommate. The nurse outside told me he will arrive the same day as me. Hopefully, the person won’t recognize me, even though it’s been long since someone did. As the time passes, my name slowly fades away into the oblivion. It’s better that way.
As I slowly start to unpack my belongings, I hear the door open quietly. I don’t turn around to see the newcomer, something in my mind tells me not to do so.
“Um… hello?” I hear a familiar voice say. Too familiar. Wait, no, that can’t be him. I turn around and yes, it’s him (thanks shit luck). Those brown eyes are too familiar.
Brendon Urie, the person standing in front of me, is at least as startled as me. We stare at each other in total shock, because who would expect meeting ex friend in a fucking Unit?? Neither of us says a word till Brendon breaks the silence “Um… hey?” he says, not really sure what to say. Well he is not the only one.
“Hi.” I say and awkwardly scratch my head. ‘’How are you doing?” I ask, instantly regretting my question. We are in a goddamned mental hospital Ryan. He is surely doing fabulous.
Brendon raises his eyebrow a bit, but replies nonetheless “I guess, I am doing fine, except, well the obvious” he laughs a bit, trying to cover the awkwardness of the situation. “What about you?”
“I don’t really know” I shrug. I would like to say I am okay but I am tired of lying. Tired of lying to him. “Okay then” he sighs and moves to the bed on the other side of the room, throwing his bag next to it. Brendon sits down on the bed and stares at me. “So…why are you here?” he asks after a while.
“Shit got too real, I guess” I reply “It’s not like I want to be here, but Z made me, probably to get rid of me” I laugh at my words, well they are true. Everyone who knows me starts to hate me after a while. It’s probably easier than dealing with me. I don’t judge them, I wouldn’t deal with myself if I didn’t have to.
“You?” I ask another question. Question and Answer then an awkward silence. That’s what’s left from the relationship that once has been between us. My fault again.
“Nothing special.” He says, advoiding the answer. Just like me.
“What does that mean?”
“What does ‘shit got too real’ mean?” he shoots back. I sigh, ignoring the question “So will you tell me? Or am I supposed to guess?”
Brendon stands up from the bed and picks up his bag just to throw it his bed. He unzips it and starts to unpack. After a while, which consists of me still waiting for the answer and him emptying his bag, Brendon suddenly sighs.
“I am not going to tell you till you don’t answer me first” Brendon says and moves towards his closet, where he puts his clothes. I notice a guitar case, still laying next to the door. I am not really surprised he brought it, Brendon without music is like The Doctor without his Tardis.
He changed, though. Like, of course he did, it’s been 7 years. But something about his eyes and whole persona. He is no longer the kid I used to know. He is no longer the sappy ADHD kid with hard on after seeing Skittles. I don’t know if I like the change.
“You don’t want to know.” I say finally, because… he really doesn’t. Even after all these years, I still don’t want to disappoint him. I know I will when I tell him.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask” He turns to me, his beautiful eyes staring at me, curious.
“I am depressed and I drink, enough???” I say angrily. “Now, it’s your turn” I add “tell me.”
Brendon shakes his head. “No, I-I can’t.” he says. ‘’Why couldn’t you? Come on, Brendon-“
“RYAN I TOLD YOU I CAN’T TELL YOU, DON’T YOU GET IT??” He shouts, cutting me in the middle of the sentence. I stare at him surprised. He never used to get this angry. That was always my job. He seems to be as shocked by his reaction as me. Suddenly, he runs out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Sending a clear message for me not to follow him.
I stand there, staring at the closed door and I wonder what turned the happiest person I’ve met into this.