A lot had been going on in Brendon’s life over the past few months alone- no, the last few years, in fact, much more than Brendon could realistically juggle and a lot less than the ambitious side of him wanted to take on. He was successful, nobody could doubt that; he sold out shows around the world, people loved him, people who had never even met him, they figured that they knew so much about him that they were in love. Brendon adored them all right back, honestly, even though there were thousands that were nameless and faceless to him, as much as he wished he could meet and remember every single one. Most of the fans he did meet were sweet, adorable shy and nervous, sometimes they were hyperactive and giggly, sometimes frozen by anxiety (Brendon could relate and usually suggested a hug to calm them down), and some even cried, that overwhelmed by emotion that they couldn’t handle it anymore. Brendon wasn’t sure why, even to this day, ten plus years into his music career. The landscape had changed drastically in the business, his music was almost unrecognisable save his distinctive, powerful voice, and yet here were all this fans, the diehard fans that were around back for the first album and the new ones that were attracted by his handsome face and his refined, yet bunny and hyperactive personality. 

Brendon understood why people liked him, appreciated his music, but some were so obsessed that he felt the need to remind them that it was okay, he wasn’t, like, some kind of God, some mystical deity too far above anyone else to approach. At the end of the day, he was just a man, only human, who was talented enough to climb the difficult rungs of the ladder that was the music industry and almost ensnare legions of new fans with every new album. Well, there was his own talent, then there was luck, then there was the input of past members, especially the original four. Brendon was the only one remaining. It wasn’t a very consistent musical venture, really, so he was grateful he had such consistent fans; new lineups almost every record (Brendon was now used to being virtually alone, it was more liberating for him, and that was worth the loneliness), completely divergent sounds and content with every new song. His latest record wasn’t his best, in the eyes of many, but Brendon tended to rank his work by how recent it was, as he believed that reflected his growth. And some of those old records bore painful memories. Not that he wasn’t still projecting those into his work- they just hurt less, stung but in a dull way and less in a sharp, violent way. Still, the ones that were more raw and emotional, from the first two records in particular, he avoided like the plague. Some things felt too personal now to share with the world, which was a strange way of thinking, because everything was on the internet anyway. It was just his way of staying mentally healthy.

That had been difficult, recently. He has broken up with his last serious relationship over a year ago, and though he was more or less over it now, numb to the once-fresh pain, the split had been jarring and it wasn’t the first difficult breakup he’d been through in his life. Brendon’s love life just couldn’t catch a break, it seemed, but time was a healer, and he moved on, shut it out, like clockwork. Embraced his past, held it near, but not close enough to hurt him. Just close enough to remember. Even if he did try to forget about it completely, it would be more or less impossible; the songs on his new record had been greatly inspired by the love of the last few years of his life, written at a time he thought this was it, they were going to be together forever. That didn’t happen. Other songs were inspired by former loves- people he’d known before, long before, ghosts of his past that he couldn’t shake- he took the skeletons out of his closet, dressed them up almost beyond recognition, and put them into songs, his heart on his sleeve but so small it couldn’t even be seen unless somebody was looking.

So, the new record was a bittersweet thing, but he liked to think it was mostly sweet. He’d built a line up now he was confident with, that he felt almost like a family with, and it looked like nobody was planning on leaving anytime soon. He was happy with that. The album was successful- maybe not as much as the last one as far as sales went, but his last album had been clear about what it wanted to be. This new one wasn’t for everyone- not exactly polarising, but it wasn’t universally adored, either. Brendon was okay with that. He was proud of his work, it wasn’t his choice if people enjoyed listening to it as much as he enjoyed writing and recording it. Aside from his career, his personal life- well, it resolved around the band, really. He was living on his own in a house in LA, but he wasn’t really [i]lonely.[/i] Brendon has plenty of friends, plenty of dogs, he was outgoing enough to make connections with people he’d only just met. Nothing was falling apart. He’d grown over the past decade, and he liked to think he was a much better person than he was back then- sure, some cracks were visible, there was emotional wear and tear and some heartbreaks had been so devastating that he still hadn’t fully healed or let go, but he was happy. Even if he wasn’t entirely whole.

He’d just finished the first leg of the American tour, and he was back in LA- he intended to spend it relaxing, recalibrating, but apparently some old friends that contacted him out of the blue had other ideas. Their messages took him by surprise, but it was a good surprise; he was still fond of them, wondered how they were doing, checked out how they were doing when they came to his mind. And now Jon was contacting him- Jon, one of his original bandmates, was inviting him to some prom night event where he and ‘some other friends’ would be performing. Initially a little doubtful of dropping himself amongst all the ‘other friends’ (that was too vague for him) right away, Brendon’s outgoing nature triumphed over his anxiousness, and he agreed to go when Jon gave him the date, time and location. He hadn’t read up on the event, checked out who was going, even if he’d told himself to a million times- adhd did that to a guy. So, Brendon went, but he was completely in the dark about what it would even be about. He assured himself it would be fun- Jon would be there, of course it would. Jon was the best. 

His first thought upon arriving was, wow, this is a small venue, but maybe the stadium tour had gotten to his head. His second thought was, wow, this is [i]pretty-[/i] the whole room was flowing purple, strings of lights pinned along the wall and hanging at the back of the stage. The stage itself was smallish, two mics set up near the centre, various other instruments propped up against amps all over the stage. It looked sort of cluttered, but the whole place was homely, sort of ethereal, little silver stars glinting as the deep purple neon glow bathed the audience in light. Brendon had arrived a little later than the start time, so he wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. He stood close to the back, and luckily, everyone was entranced by the person on stage- someone he didn’t recognise. She was dressed in white and gorgeous in an otherworldly way, and Brendon was somewhat entranced by her manner of moving and speaking. She was talking into the mic- he wasn’t really listening, he was now looking out for Jon- and after a moment, she strummed on the guitar as the rest of the band assembled and she started singing.

Jon was nowhere in sight, and Brendon had been searching with his eyes for a good thirty seconds (the length of Brendon’s attention span, usually), so he gave up and turned his attention to the girl singing on stage. He didn’t know her, that’s for sure, but she was definitely talented, with a strong stage presence even though she looked so angelic and gentle. Her voice was smooth and light and Brendon found himself working out how they could harmonise in his head. Brendon clicked his tongue and looked the the row of heads before him, the last row of the audience. He quickly tried to figure out which was least likely to know who he was, and tapped them on the shoulder, looking apologetic when they turned around. And then he instantly regretted it, because immediate shock and recognition crossed their face and Brendon couldn’t help but smile as they struggled to find words. He was used to it, but it was still endearing. [b]”Hi, darling, shh, sorry, I’m interrupting the show here,”[/b] He whispered quickly, then indicated towards the stage. [b]”I know this is a stupid question, but who is that?”[/b]

The audience member looked at him with a combination of adoration, shock and fear, and they were still smiling stupidly when they spoke. [b]”Elizabeth, Z Berg. This is [i]her[/i] event, Brendon.”[/b] Brendon nodded, thanked them quickly, didn’t notice their eyes widening again. [b]”Wait, did you come to see-”[/b] They were interrupted when Brendon was tapped on the shoulder and he spun around to see Jon, who he immediately embraced, grinning his winning smile. [b]”Hey, man,”[/b] He muttered, and Jon smiled back, but nudged him, as if to tell him to pay attention. Brendon pressed his shoulder against Jon’s, trying to listen to Z sing, but too many questions were running through his mind. How was Jon? How were his wife and his daughter? Was his solo music project up and running yet? Did he still speak to Spencer? Was he still working on music with Vicky? His mind was racing, but in a good way. He felt the joy in his heart increasingly swell the more he thought about his old friend. There was no bad blood there, there never really had been between him and Jon.

Eventually, he managed to focus on the performance, but unfortunately she was finishing as soon as he turned his attention back to the song. [i]Thank you, everyone,[/i] Z said into the mic, strumming again on the guitar and glancing off to the side of the stage as if waiting for someone. Brendon followed her eyes, and from the side of the stage, like some kind of fucking ghost, walked the darkest fucking shadow from Brendon’s past, the one who had once been his light. He was stunned, speechless, and then he was angry at Jon for not telling him, and then he was delighted with Jon for not telling him because if he’d known beforehand he wouldn’t have turned up. He should have suspected it, really. Anyway- god, he looked good, his hair was shorter than he remembered but styled, he was dressed in some typically quirky, tight-fitting blue suit with red trimmings. Brendon forgot how to breathe, because there was a former lover, [i]the[/i] former lover, Brendon’s heartbreaker, stood up there and greeted by an eruption of cheers and hysteria. He heard one person shout his name, tell Ryan and Z how beautiful they were. Brendon couldn’t even think straight.

[i]So, this is Ryan, I’m sure you all know,”[/i] Z said into the mic, and Ryan just strummed at his guitar. Brendon’s eyes were drawn to his hands. They were adorned with rings. [i]And we’re going to play a song from The Young Veins record.[/i] Brendon looked at Jon, who looked a little sheepish, but was smiling all the same. Brendon just stared dumbly back at him, not sure whether to yell or cry or ask him why he wasn’t on stage singing that Young Veins song. He didn’t have chance to decide. [i]The Young Veins, formed by Ryan here and a certain Jon Walker... who is... there! Over there.[/i] Z indicated with the neck of her guitar and all eyes were suddenly on Brendon and Jon. Including Ryan’s. Brendon seriously forgot how to breathe, and shrank a little. This was not what he had expected when Jon had said ‘and some other friends’. He bowed his head, heard some excited and confused shouts of ‘Brendon’ and ‘oh my god, it’s brendon’, and tried to disappear.