Brendon woke with a jolt. The bus had come to a stop, and Ryan was shaking him awake.
“We’re here! Reading Festival!”
He was surprised to see Ryan so enthusiastic, but he smiled. It was a thing to be treasured and encouraged, Ryan’s happiness.
Pushing aside the curtain on his bunk, he jumped out of bed and pulled on a red t-shirt and a pair of grey jeans. Tight grey jeans, he thought to himself, grinning.
He walked out into the kitchen area. Ryan handed him a flyer.
“Look at all the bands playing, Bren! The Killers!”
Brendon looked down at the flyer, and sure enough, there was the name, printed amongst the other names of various bands and musicians.
He looked back up to Jon wolf-whistling in his direction.
“Looking hot, Urie!”
He was used to this. They were all a bit gay on the Panic At The Disco tour bus.
He laughed at Jon’s remark, and flipped back, “Not looking too bad yourself, Walker,” winking in his direction.
“Okay guys, enough.”
Spencer was at the door, frowning.
“You trouble-fête, Spencer Smith!”
Brendon looked puzzled. Jon came to his rescue.
“It means killjoy, Bren. Ryan, stop showing off your fancy foreign knowledge!”
A frown appeared on Ryan’s face matching Spencer’s.
Deciding then would be a good time to leave, Brendon pushed open the door of the bus and hopped off it onto the grass below.
He wandered for a while, looking around in interest at all the goings-on surrounding him.
His eyes flitted over names on buses, recognising a few. He peered in curiosity at a slender man with shoulder length hair and might he add, beautiful hips, arguing with someone that was most likely a band member.
But that band member looked familiar...
“Sisky!” Brendon exclaimed, after realizing who the person was. And the taller boy...
Brendon ran forward, encasing them both in a huge bear hug.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it Urie?” William said pulling away from Brendon, beaming.
“It has most certainly been a while, Beckett!” Brendon replied, putting on an English accent, “Seen anyone worthwhile round here?”
“Apart from you? Well, I did see a certain lead singer of a certain band by the name of Brandon Flowers...” Bill hinted, winking.
Brendon’s face lit up.
Continuing on his path of exploration, Brendon wandered around tents and buses and small amounts of people, luckily not being recognized by any crazy fans.
He was looking out for someone, but just vaguely, just in the back of his mind. He wasn’t totally aware of his search until he noticed a sign on a tour bus door that he had come to stand in front of.
What was he doing? Didn’t this band hate his band?
He started to walk away.
He heard a door slam behind him, but didn’t look back.
Suddenly he was knocked sideways, into a girl with bright orange hair. He stuttered out an apology, but the girl recognized him before he could get away, and discover the person that pushed him.
“Yeah, hey Hayley, I’m kinda - I’ve gotta go.”
He hardly even caught a glimpse of his pusher, but he had a strong hunch. A fairly wishful hunch, but a hunch nonetheless.
Pushing through groups of people as the crowds got bigger, he could just see the person he was trying to get to.
Brendon finally caught up and grabbed the back of the boy’s absurd jacket. He whipped around. It was him. Brandon Flowers. Brendon smiled nervously. Brandon gave him a strange look, and then recognition dawned on his face. Brendon was unsure whether to run away or keep smiling idiotically.
“What do you want?” Brandon snapped.
“I...um...you pushed me?” Brendon replied, as more of a question. Brandon just sneered down at him.
“You’re Urie, right?”
Brendon, gaining all composure he had left, smiled weakly and replied, “Yep, that’s me!”
His false cheeriness was lost on Brandon, although Brandon’s expression wavered a little.
Brendon thought he saw a hint of a smile, before Brandon quickly changed it to a smirk, and squaring his shoulders, strode away.
Brendon stumbled through the door of the bus, cursing and angry. Ryan looked up from his book. He raised his eyebrow (in a way he had practiced to perfection) and asked, “He did it again, didn’t he?”
Brendon ignored Ryan’s question and mumbled something angrily to himself about dirty cocksuckers and dickfaced snobs.
Ryan’s expression was blank, and he said to Brendon, “You’ve got to stop expecting more of him, Brendon. We all know of your little crush, and imagining doesn’t help the situation.”
Jon sniggered from the corner of the bus.
“You don’t help either!” Ryan said, throwing his book in Jon’s direction.
Brendon sighed and flopped onto his bunk, still muttering expletives and insults. He stared up at the underside of the bunk above him.
He woke to Spencer’s face inches above his, and hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake.
“Brendon. Brendon, you gotta get up, dude. We’re on in ten minutes!”
If you read this whole thing, you are absolutely wonderful.