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Brendon Urie was 17 and just starting up his senior year at Western High for followers of Latter day saint Faith. Or in other words; Mormon boarding school. But, it was November (so the beginning of the school year) and thanksgiving was coming around. His entire family lived in indianapolis so, he had to fly there for thanksgiving and fly back. Brendon is still boating as he sees an unusually tall man board alone. Weird, he wasn’t in school because he looked at least 32, who knows though? it’s the holidays and everyone is traveling. Brendon boards with the second to last group and he sees the same unusually tall man next to his seat. On the left (window) was the man and he was going to sit right next to him on the aisle seat. He sat down next to the man and he smiled at him. Brendon didn’t really care. The older (and much taller man) got out a book and began reading.Nerdy type. After taxi and takeoff, flight attendants began to offer drinks. Brendon ordered a double bloody mary, they asked for ID, naturally and he gave his fake one. Introducing.., Michal Tulsa! Dallon got a water. Dallon saw him receive his bloody mary and caught a glimpse at his fake id. “How old are you?” Dallon said to Brendon as he took the first glug of it. “22” Brendon said to him placing his drink on the tray. “Oh? then why are you using a fake id?” Dallon asked. How the fuck did he know? “SHHH!! it’s not a fake id” Brendon said. What the fuck! He just wants to get drunk and take a nap. Dallon pointed at Brendon’s boarding pass which was tucked in the seat back pocket “It says here you’re ‘Brendon Boyd Urie and the flight attendee addressed you as Mr. Tulsa.”
Dallon said. Closing his book and placing it into his cary on. This man is either too creepy to function normally, autistic, or really bored. Brendon thought. “I’m 17” Brendon admitted quietly and Dallon let out a satisfied hum. “And why are you drinking on the plane?” Dallon asked. He understood teenagers partied no doubt, but drinking on the plane means one thing, he would drink whenever. Which means the next thing, early stages of alcoholism, which then results into being an alcoholic at 25. “I wanna get drunk” Brendon said taking another glug of his drink. “Why?” Dallon asked him. “I like getting drunk” Brendon replied. Brendon didn’t care admitting this. Dallons heart hurt. “When did that start?” Dallon was being super nosy but he didn’t notice, partly because of autism and partly because he didn’t really give a fuck (this isn’t slander to autism.3 of the 7 people in my friend group are autistic and my oldest cousin has it. aswell as my mom. i’m not making or poking fun but it’s stating that some autistic people don’t notice when they’re being nosy. this isn’t any slander to Dallon Weekes. K?) “Why are you asking?” Brendon looked at Dallon weirdly. Dallon looked away and didn’t respond. “Late 8th grade” Brendon said to no one listening. At least he thought. “Jesus kid” Dallon exhaled. “Do you remember the first time you drank?”
Dallon asked, now getting a notebook out of his bag. He was writing something down. Brendon did notice and he was curious. Maybe he was just doodling. “Fun” Brendon started. “I was at a party with a few sophomores and juniors. Then whenever I went partying it was expected for me to drink.” Brendon said. “Is that so?” Dallon replied writing down more things, not doodles. Notes. “Then whenever I felt anything that was too much I drank.” Brendon was like an open fucking book Dallon thought. He wasn’t drunk or even tipsy enough to be admitting this. No, this is just how he acts. “Do you want a hug?” Dallon asked. JUST out of curiosity. If he was so much of an open book who was going to say he wouldn’t start crying on his shoulder. “yea” Brendon said beginning to cry instantly after he offered the hug. Dallon Weekes wasn’t a good ‘manipulator’ he was good at what he did. Psychology and Therapy. He had both degrees. He was really good at letting people open up without realizing they really were. This was showing itself in Brendon Urie now. He patted him on the back. “I wish you were my dad” Brendon said. I knew this kid was already easily opening up but- I didn’t realize HOW much of an open book he was.
“What’s makes you wish that?” Dallon asked Brendon who was still attached to him, by that I mean he was still refusing to let go of the hug after the ‘15 seconds normal hug time’ alarm went off. Dallon knew what this meant. “My dad is so mean to me” Dallon patted his head, he moved his hand quickly and continued to write down whatever was wrong with Brendon. “How is he mean to you, sweetheart?” That’s the magic word. “He just-“ cry “He calls me mean names and says i’m overly rude and too emotional for being 17 and it’s like-“ Dallon cut him off by shushing him “Hush hush, you’re dad obviously has no idea how being 17 works” Dallon was affirming him. That would help Brendon open up more, and easier. “I know right?!” Brendon said to him, He lied his head on Dallons shoulder, pulling away from the hug but not pulling away from him. “You’ve seen to take quite an affection to me” Dallon said simply and calmly. Making sure to not freak him out. He didn’t even have to ask why. “It’s because- my daddy didn’t let him hug him ever and i only feel affection during sex- so i forget about most of it” Brendon said to Dallon. ‘Little to no affection at home or at school=affectionate and opening up to anyone who might allow’ Dallon wrote on his notebook. The lady came around again with the car collecting trash, because Brendon had been crying on Dallon for the past 10 minutes he didn’t have enough time to finish his bloody mary. He chugged the rear of it and took the rest of the shot he was given with it to add overtime. Bad idea to chug it all. “Woah, easy there little friend” Dallon didn’t care. He wanted to build the illusion that he did to Brendon. Calming him ‘little friend’ was because it would add onto him feeling safer with him. Brendon is immature and needs Dallon to talk to. Dallon was doing this for A)fun B)practicing for future sessions with clients . “I know. I just want to feel the effects of alcohol faster” Brendon admitted lying his head back onto Dallon. “Oh sweetheart you’re exhausted.” Dallon said to Brendon. “I’m so sleepy” “It’s the alcohol, baby.” Dallon said to make him feel calmer. sleepier. “Mngh” Brendon lets out a satisfied whine. Dallon felt Brendon falling asleep so he let him fall asleep on him.
♡
Brendon groaned awake, he fell asleep in such a painful way he was in pain. He saw Dallon playing chess with himself. “Mr?” Brendon groaned to him. He took himself off his chest and looked at him in the eye. “Ugh. You.” Dallon said pushing him off. “Gross” Dallon said the laughed. “Ow my neck” Brendon said stretching it. “You never told me your name.” Brendon stated. Dallon started putting away his chess as he mentioned it. “Dallon Weekes, D.O” Dallon said. “D.O? Deodorant?” Brendon looked at him confused. “I’m a licensed psychiatrist.” Placing the miniature chess board into his bag. “Ohhh okay” “You really need to see a therapist.” Brendon looked at him weird. “Really? Growing up I wasn’t in therapy once. Turned out fine.” “In the half and hour I talked to you, I have VAUGE idea of what’s going on in your brain. Imagine a full hour session?” “ I mean i have an idea-“ Brendon said to Dallon, partially thinking he was crazy. Dallon took something out of his pocket. A business card. “Dallon J Weekes- D.O” and under that was writing for an address. “Is this where you-“ “If you ever have any problems or are willing to try to get help, call me.” Dallon said, Brendon looked at the screen in front of them. 2 more hours. He got himself another drink regardless if it was a bad idea or not. When he sat back down Dallon looked back up at him. “Not a good idea” “I don’t really care what you think about me and my drinking habits” Brendon said gulping down as much alcohol as he could. “Say whatever you want yourself to believe.” Dallon said. He knew what Brendon wanted.