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"Ryan please help me. I know I'm probably the last person you want to see but I'm turning......into this thing. I need your help before it's too late!" Brendon sobbed loudly over the harsh rain but no tears were escaping his stone cold black eyes. His emotions were gone, he was empty, void of all that used to make him human, although he didn't want to be like this. He wanted this all to be a dream, but it wasn't; it was real. Tonight it was raining harder than it had for the last two days. The rain had already soaked his clothes and hair. It also dripped off of his horns that had grown from his forehead and rolled down his face which was grey, warped, and disfigured. Brendon wasn't who he used to be, he wasn't the snarky party boy he used to be, he was a monster. The last three weeks had been rough but now he was hoping, praying, that his old band mate and friend would help him....help him from becoming a monster. Ryan looked at him skeptically but nodded. "Yeah. Come inside, we'll talk in here."
~3 Weeks Earlier
Brendon Urie, 28 year old singer , playboy, and frontman of Panic! at the Disco woke up in his hotel bed with a bad headache and the bright sun in his eyes. It was a proven fact after a concert and an after party or three Brendon wasn't the most friendly person to wake up to in the morning, in fact he was considered a monster. As he sat up the night before ran through his head. Him and Dallon had a falling out after a concert about boundaries and his pay which then resulted in Brendon walking out into the cold night and the rest was a blur. It was all a blur in reality. "What time is it?" Brendonasked himself, turning on his phone to get his answer but saw notifications, tons of notifications. Missed calls, texts from his manager, Twitter and Instagram, etc, etc. Three missed calls from Dallon and seven from his wife Sarah. That was a red flag though, seven calls in one night meant either he'd done something stupid or he had drunk called her which was also stupid, but she wouldn't mind because she was used to his drunk calls unless he said something he didn't mean. He turned his phone off and noticed a weird bump on his forehead in the reflection of his screen. Brendon brushed aside his hair and slowly put his fingers on the bump, screaming in pain once doing it. The pain was excruciating and a lot worse than if he had broke his leg or burned his hand on the stove. It felt like something he'd never felt before, something he couldn't describe if asked. "What the fuck?!" He exclaimed and fell out of bed. Was it a tumor or maybe something happened last night where he got hit. He could've gotten in a fight, maybe not. This all was happening too fast and it was only, only.....he turned his phone on again. 4:55 pm, read the bright LED screen. Fuck, he was late for his rehearsal and flight. Brendon got up and rushed to the bathroom, but stopped when he saw himself in the mirror. What he saw was two light gray bumps on his forehead which blended in seamlessly with his normal skin but seemed extremely out of place. They were placed at the sides close to the middle but not exactly, close to his hairline but still having distance, and they had a small pink ring around each one. Infected perhaps? "What the fuck is going on?" Brendon asked himself in a hushed whisper as he stared at himself in the mirror before dialing Sarah. He listened to the dial tone and when it sounded like someone answered he started speaking. "Sarah, honey, I'm so sorry if I drunk dialed you last night and I can totally explain but there's-" The voicemail picked up. "Hey it's Sarah, I'm not at the phone right now but leave a message and I'll try and call you back!" -beep- Brendon lowered his hand and stared at the phone in disbelief. Had he woke her up last night? Did he tell her something bad? Did he accidentally call her while fucking another woman? Why wasn't she picking up? She usually picked up. He ended the phone call and shook his head, this was his imagination, all his imagination. His agenda today: Call Sarah and Dallon, hopefully one of them would pick up, and get some donuts. It took Brendon exactly fifteen minutes to get dressed and do his hygiene routine before he was out of the hotel room and running down the hallway. He had his hood up so no one would see the bumps but it was his imagination, they weren't real. Someone bumped into him in the hallway, giving him a dirty look when they looked up at Brendon. What was that for? "H-Hey, I'm sorry." He apologized hurriedly before running off to the elevator which he was praying would be empty, but of course Brendon Boyd Urie was the unluckiest man on Earth so of course the elevator was full of people who looked at him with confusion and a few backed away from him. He walked in and pressed the 1 button. Going down. Going down, down, down. -ding- He stepped out into the lobby which was full of people. Men, women, children, and pets which were trapped in their little carriers. Suddenly he felt a little sad about the animals, they shouldn't have to be contained like that. Animals should be free to roam the land like they used to. Brendon shook his head and ran out of the building. His breath was hard and his thoughts were all jumbled up together. "What's happening to me?" He wondered aloud, getting a few dirty looks. These gray bumps weren't his imagination, so what exactly were they? Why were there two identical bumps on his forehead and why was he feeling sympathy for other people's pets? Yeah, he had his own, but other people's? This all was becoming too much to handle, and it was too late to get donuts. Brendon tried calling Sarah again while running to get on a bus, bad mistake. Once stepping inside of the bus the scent smelled like mildew, rotten eggs, and dirt all at the same time. It was awful but he used to ride busses like this before getting famous. He could take a city bus if his heart so desired. -beep- "Hey Sarah its Brendon, again. I'm getting worried honey; you haven't answered since yesterday before the show and I'm getting worried. I'm sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable or fucked up. I'm coming home this afternoon...please answer." Brendon ended the call then sat down in one of the seats with his head in his hands. Perhaps Breezy would pick up? Or Spencer? Jon? He hadn't spoken to Jon in several years but whole thing was upsetting him immensely and he needed someone to tell, to make sure he wasn't losing his mind. He was worried about his wife and he hadn't even attempted to apologize to Dallon. God this was turning out to be the worst day ever. "Maybe if you called upon God he'd help you." Someone told him. Brendon lifted his head up a little bit to look at who had told him that. An elderly woman was sitting in front of him and by the expression on her face she wasn't fucking around by saying that. "Excuse me?" Brendon asked the woman with a hint of anger in his tone who only smirked at him. He already hates her and she seemed content with that. "Satan controls you, repent and he'll take away your sins." She hissed and stood as the bus stopped at the bus station. Brendon was dumbfounded as to what had just happened. Everyone could see the bumps and everyone felt nervous or anxious around him. Something was wrong with him, along with being told to repent. "I don't need to repent to nothing! I don't need your fucking God!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. The few remaining people on the bus shifted uncomfortably or politely stood and exited at the wrong stop. A guy who was about his age glared hatefully at him before following the person who just left. "I don't need your fucking God." Brendon muttered to himself and exited the bus as well. Today had gone from bad to worse in a matter of an hour, and Brendon's sour mood wasn't helping either. He was stomping down the sidewalk to the greyhound bus station with his head down and shoulders slouched. Whenever he looked up someone would instantly shuffle to the side or look at him with wide eyes, some even had their mouths gapped open. Never before had he ever gotten this much attention off stage, not even TMZ cared about him this much (not that TMZ mattered or anything but it would be nice to be noticed once in awhile especially by people who gossip for a living). Brendon was already on the brink of calling Dallon, but Dallon probably wouldn't talk to him because he's a narcissistic asshole. Maybe that was throwing shade to someone else, probably. This day was already hell anyways; making it through was the only thing that mattered. Brendon was already inside the station and boarding his bus when out of the corner of his eye he saw something or someone who looked familiar, but upon looking, no one or nothing was there. "You're just tired." He reassured himself and found a seat in the back. The back of the bus smelled like rotten eggs and tofu, which was an unpleasant scent. Brendon didn't want to breathe it in but alas he had to if he wanted to get home. All his clothes had been left in his motel room but he couldn't go back now since he was here. Sitting in a sticky bus, inhaling toxic fumes, and calling his wife again. "Sarah please answer. Whatever I said last night you know I didn't mean it. I love you." Brendon pleaded into the phone's speaker. Tears were welling in his eyes and his normally cheerful demeanor had dissipated. Brendon felt hopeless for once in his life. Sarah was more than his companion but his friend. She listened to anything he said, drunk or not, and talked him out of doing stupid shit. She was amazing but he had probably ruined everything they had by fucking up. "I miss you." He choked up and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Brendon stared at the window after doing this which resulted in him falling asleep soon after. Upon waking up there was a man flashing a flashlight in his face. Brendon swatted at him and sat up, snorting adorably. "Wh-Where am I?!" He asked frantically and looked around. It all came back to him. The bumps, the bus ride, getting on the bus, falling asleep. "Uhm, dude, we're about to leave so you need to get off or purchase another ticket." The guy who was in his early twenties said. Brendon nodded and stood slowly. "Also, cool horns dude." The guy said and walked off. 'Horns? What horns?' He asked himself mentally, pulling out his phone to check for any calls but stopped. Upon seeing his reflection Brendon saw two tiny little horns which had possibly protruded from his forehead while he had slept. "Oh my God." He breathed. His mind was spinning and the more he stared at the tiny horns the more scared he got. "C'mon dude!" He heard the man from earlier yell from the front in his laid back voice. "Uhm yeah sorry!" Brendon yelled back and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He exited the bus quickly and put his hood back up to cover the disgrace which was himself. Brendon headed towards the bathroom which upon entering smelt way worse than the bus did. Despite this he walked up to the mirror and pulled down his hood to see two little grey horns on his forehead (the one on the left was more of a stub though). The surprise hit him in the stomach hard. He wanted them gone but how? How wasn't the answer and the solutions was to break them which he could do once he got home. "What am I?" He asked himself as he continued to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. Maybe asking what was a bad idea because deep down inside Brendon knew what he was. He already knew. The phone, which he had shoved into his back pocket buzzed. This slapped him back to reality and he answered it quickly. On the other end though was not his manager, his agent, one of his friends, or Sarah. The only thing he heard was heavy breathing. Each heavy breath he heard the more scared he got. "Wh-Who is this?!" He stuttered into the speaker. Brendon pulled the phone away from his ear and saw it was Sarah's number. Sarah. The five lettered word on the screen brought tears to his eyes. "Where's my wife!" Brendon screamed, but the call dropped. A sudden feeling of dread filled Brendon as he rushed out of the bathroom and out of the bus station where he started running. After turning about three corners Brendon was already out of breath. A car stopped by the curb and a guy rolled down his window, his smile was fake and cheesy. "Wanna ride?" He asked. Brendon nodded quickly and gratefully got into the car. He blurted out his address and rested his head against the window. "Hurry, try to hurry! My wife is probably in danger!" Brendon told the man who didn't seem concerned at all. "Dude please!" He yelled. The man pressed down hard on the gas and shot a dirty look at Brendon. "I just got this car, I'm not driving like a maniac in it. And if you're wife is in trouble why didn't you just call the police?!" The man snapped and turned down the street, heading towards Brendon's neighborhood. "Because I.....never mind." Brendon replied in a hushed whisper and opened the door. He jumped out and landed hard on his knees but this didn't stop I'm from running up the hill. From down below he heard the guy tell several curses but that only fueled him to keep going. He turned up the driveway and stopped when he saw the door was open. His heart stopped for what felt like an eternity before he stepped forward and walked inside. The stench of death hit his nose. The house was dark which wasn't normal in their brightly lit neighborhood, there was an assortment of items all strewn out on the floor, and the flowers Sarah had in her favorite vase were wilted. The white roses she loved were bruised, brown, and dead. Sadly dead. Brendon felt tears on his cheeks but kept advancing into the house, which was a terrible idea. The blank wall that they had decided would be for something special had a pentagram painted in blood on it. Brendon backed up and fell on his ass, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Sarah!"