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"As much as I'd love to, Ry, I've gotta work. Ain't got time for any more messin' today."
The year was 1925. American life hadn't been happier: the economy was thriving with credit and the creation of the stock market, and people were loving the radio and freshly progressing cinema. Americans had all they wanted and more.
In this same economy, Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie had moved in together - 'to save on rent costs', they would explain. A small apartment in a newly built building. It was small and shabby, enough space to fit two people a little less than comfortably.
"Right. I guess. See you, Bren."
Ryan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall closest to their front door. His eyes stared at the floor infront of him, tracing the carpet.
Brendon walked up to him and gave him a swift kiss on his cheek before fixing his tie and leaving.
Brendon left their apartment and step onto the street. Cold, brisk air caressed his features as he slowly strolled down the road. It was 4PM now, and the sun was already beginning to set, with the sky turning a deep orange shade. Despite the evening, the city was mostly quiet, apart from the rushed business man or the housewife walking alone.
As he turned a corner, Brendon stopped at the entrance to an alley. It was relatively dark, with tall buildings looming over each side. Drain water ran along the edges and the brick had small cracks reaching tall. It was run down, clearly, and seemingly suspicious.
Brendon glanced around him, searching for any presence of authority before venturing down the alleyway. The air seemed even colder than the crisp autumn air normally, and a sense of dread crawled up his back and over his shoulders, causing goosebumps to run along his arms.
At the end of the walkway was a skinny metal door, rusted along the edges and dirt splashed up the bottom. It had a small slide at eye level (which was closed) and an engraving just below - some logo or something.
"I said I wouldn't be caught dead here." Brendon sighed as he stepped closer to the door. He raised a hand and knocked firmly against the door, causing it to rattle on it's hinges. A small clink sounded from behind it, and the slide was pushed open, revealing a man in a gold decorative Medico della Peste mask. His eyes were the only human detail visible through the door, and they looked down on Brendon with a cold, deep blue stare.
"Panic." Brendon spoke, just above a whisper. His breath ghosted over his lips as it left his mouth, and he straightened his back.
The man on the other side nodded slightly and shut the slide with force. Then, the door was opened, revealing a dark, almost void-like room on the other side.
Brendon stepped inside, the air instantly changing into a more familiar warmth. He shivered at the change, and stood as his eyes adjusted to the new darkness. There was a small armchair placed next to the door, and a table and shelf opposite. Multiple different masks were lined up on the table, and more hung from the pegs of the shelf. He stepped forward and took his usual mask, a white colombina mask with ornate gold paint details.
After strapping the mask to his face, he stepped through a set of black curtains, entering the main room.
Yes, it was true American life was at its prime, but many couldn't shake the addiction - the urge for alcohol. It had been 5 years since the government had brought Prohibition into effect, and some people couldn't handle it. Despite the illegality, people understood the constant need for a buzz, to get that small kick. Therefore, crime rings opened speakeasies to satisfy needs, and employed dancers and singers to satisfy other... needs.
The speakeasy was bright, considering the illegal business, with burlesque dancers and flappers circling the room. Men sat in booths, sipping moonshine and bootlegged alcohol. Women sat besides them, dressed in revealing (basically) lingerie, decorated with tassels and sequins that shone in the light and complimented their bodies.
Brendon walked through the room and proceeded into a back room, taking off his suit coat and combing back his hair. He freshened up in a sink, splashing his face before spraying some breath freshener onto his tongue. He sung some trills, practice rippling through his vocal cords, before the sound of cheers alerted him of the time.
As he stepped out on stage, the crowd clapped excitedly, with even some dancers slowing down or stopping to listen to his performance. A series of girls were stood behind him - backup dancers, all dressed in the same mask as him and wearing equally dazzling red tops and underwear.
Brendon began his set, starting with the song "But It's Better If You Do". The crows seemed to be enjoying it, and his confidence grew as the dancing behind him slowly built up. Some working girls and regulars at the club even began to sing along.
During his final performance, Brendon snapped his fingers to the beat. His confidence had built over time, and he was dancing around stage with a mic in one hand and a burlesque dancer in another. As he spun around the stage, he spotted a new presence in the club.
It was a man, sat at the back by the bar, swiveling the chair around to face the stage. He had a red colombina mask on, decorated with appliques of roses, which matched his vivid rose vest.
He sat alone, watching Brendon closely as he performed, and drinking from a glass. He bore into him with those obscured eyes and a small smiling curved at the corners of his lips.
After Brendon finished performing, he left the back stage area. He was tired: his limbs were aching as he walked, not used to dancing so expressively, and he let out the largest yawn, covering his mouth.
He sat down at the bar, ordering one daiquiri as he glanced around the bar. He rested his elbows on the table, hanging his head as he ran over that performance in his head. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm as he waited for his drink. Brendon was lost in his thoughts:
"Is it bad that I found that man attractive? Is it cheating? I mean, me and Ryan aren't necessarily dating. We just live together, have shared expenses, sleep together, work together, eat together, sleep together. Average friend stuff, right?
...
This is exactly where he'd like me."
Brendon murmured under his breath to himself. A hand placed gently on Brendon's shoulder, forcing him back to reality. He looked up, being met with that same hidden face, behind the deep red roses.
"Hello. You were just performing, no?" The man spoke, his voice quiet and smooth - something you don't head much in such this drunken establishment.
Brendon blinked twice, staring in surprise at the man. His cheeks flushed slightly, saliva pooling at the bottom of his mouth, under his tongue.
"Oh, it's you." He spoke, his voice coming out in an annoyed, almost robot-like tone. Brendon cleared his throat and spluttered out, "Sorry, that sounds so rude. Hi, that was me." Brendon smiled wide, his face becoming slightly red.
The mystery man slipped onto the seat next to him, quickly ordering a drink. He placed his hands down on the bar, one suspiciously close to Brendon's own, still nervously tapping a tune.
"You're quite talented." The man rested his head on one of his hands. His eyes seemed to share the same stare as before, gazing into and past Brendon's.
"Thanks, sir." Brendon averted his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.
They both fell into silence. It felt like forever before anyone spoke, as if time itself didn't dare move from this moment. With the unknown man staring at Brendon, analysing his features, and Brendon shyly gazing back and to.
After a few seconds, the mystery man leaned forward to grip Brendon's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. His grip was quite firm, not strong but commanding. Brendon let out a slight gasp of air from the sudden movement.
The man began running his thumb along his chin, admiring his jawline. He tilted his head, as if he was examining him. His thumb, despite the grip, was gentle as anything.
"Do you need... want to..." Brendon stuttered out, still surprised and definitely flustered by the movement.
"Gladly." The mystery man let go at a sudden, standing quickly and reaching a hand out to help Brendon up.
This was the first time Brendon could get a good look at this mysterious man.
The mystery man was slightly taller than him, but it was noticeable. His legs and arms were quite slender, and it gave him an overall lanky look. A desired type, but it's exactly what Brendon liked.
He knew from Ryan at home.
Exactly where he'd like him.
The man took Brendon's hand, stroking it lightly with his thumb as he lead him through the crowded floor to the back of the area.
At the back was a series of door labeled "PRIVATE". Brendon had never used these rooms, not really ever taken notice. He had never gotten close to sleeping with anyone at this club.
The rooms has small locks with indication of if it was empty, and two of them were empty. The man lead Brendon into the one of the furthest side, near the corner of the establishment.
The interior inside was mostly grey, with a small window. The room had no furniture besides a folding chair in the very centre. Brendon didn't know why a chair would be there, but didn't get time to ponder before he was pushed down onto the chair.
The chair skidded back slightly as he landed, his arms falling slack to either side and his legs slightly spread. He looked up at the masked man, his face most definitely blushing with how hot he felt.
The man looked down at him, the setting sunlight catching his eyes perfectly to reveal the mischief behind his brown eyes. He slowly removed his vest, dropping it to the floor as he moved closer.
The man raised his leg swiftly in a dominating movement. Brendon scrambled, forgetting how to use his legs for a second as he narrowly avoided having them crushed. This resulted in him being pinned to the chair by the man's foot, directly infront of his crotch.
Brendon let out a small, awkward gasp of air as he stared at the looming man. His arms raised instinctively, placing on the man's waist and rubbing his thumb against his sides in a slow, intimate motion.
The taller man smirked as he leaned into the man beneath him, one hand tracing Brendon's jaw with feathery fingers. The other hand was placed on his shoulder, supporting the man as he lowered himself onto Brendon's lap.
The air in the room had become warm with unspoken tension as the two men held eachother. Brendon swallowed sharply as he kept his eyes on the man above him. The mystery man moved his face closer, before he took Brendon's lips in a gentle kiss. It was almost romantic, a wonderful caricature of intimacy.
Brendon closed his eyes, leaning further into the kiss, pulling the man against him by the waist. His hands trailed up the taller man's back, and one snaked it's way into his soft brown hair.
The man let out a breathy laugh at Brendon's acceptance, and carefully pressed his tongue against his lips. Quickly obeying, the masked man slipped his tongue into Brendon's mouth, the kiss swiftly changing from innocently intimate to something much more passionate and crazed.
The man was the perfect weight - in the most non-weird way. He felt insanely comfortable on Brendon's lap, and he also smelled crazy good, if not a bit feminine and familiar. He had a potent scent of vanilla, smelling sweet and not helping the overall feelings of this scene. His lips were also incredibly smooth, enjoyable.
After a while of slowly making out, the mystery man withdrew his tongue, pulling back slow enough to leave a lingering strand of saliva between their mouths. He straightened his back, looking down at a surprised, flushed, pleased Brendon.
"Maybe we should properly introduce ourselves before we go... crazy..." The man whispered, his breath ghosting over Brendon's lips.
He raised a hand behind his head, fumbling with his fingers before he gently pulled a string, his mask falling into his hand. The mask dropped with a small thud into his palm, and he ran his other hand through his hair as he looked down at the shorter man.
Brendon's eyes widened behind his mask, and his mouth fell open slightly as he took in the sight.
"Ryan...?" Brendon uttered, and the man's posture slipped, his shoulders falling over himself.
"You know me?" Ryan responded, his voice raised slightly now as he looked confused at the other man.
He moved closer to Brendon, reaching behind to pull off the mask concealing his identity.
The gold mask fell into Brendon's lap, and both stared at eachother for a second before Ryan finally spoke.
"Brendon." Ryan whispered with a bite.
"Hi Ryan, I didn't know it was you... or that you liked roses that much..." Brendon awkwardly chuckled, adverting his eyes as his hands slipped from Ryan's waist.
"You left me at home to come and sleep around here?" Ryan spat, climbing off of Brendon and backing towards the door.
"No- I came to perform." Brendon moved forward, sat on the edge of the chair and reaching forward. He grabs Ryan's arm, holding it tightly, "You- You act like we're together..."
Ryan turns around to face Brendon, glaring at him with dark hooded eyes.
"What are we then? 'Cause I sure thought we were."
He yanks his arm loose, bending to pick up his vest and his mask, which was now on the floor. He slipped the vest on and was raising the mask to his face aa he placed his hand on the door knob.
Just as Ryan turned the door handle, they were alerted to a loud bang from outside, and he opened the door to reveal a scene of utter chaos.
A blur of blues and warmer tones. Groups of police were scattered throughout the building, and people were screaming. A couple patrons were fist-fighting the officers, while some dancers were running and hiding under the bar.
"Jesus... fuck." Brendon said, his voice echoing from behind Ryan.
"We need to leave." Grabbing Brendon and forcing him from the chair with all his strength, Ryan began to lead the both of them through the scene.
Brendon followed closely behind, attempting to avoid being separated. Some people were already arrested, being thrown around by police while others tried to get them out of the cuffs. On stage, the burlesque dancers from his earlier show were on stage, cowering and running around the area like headless chickens.
As he was looking around, an officer accidentally - or on purpose - punched Brendon directly in the cheek. He stumbled back, holding his face as another customer knocked into him, and he lost sight of Ryan in the crowd of people. He tried to force his way through the group, using his elbows to push any flailing limbs or falling people out of his way as he crept towards the exit.
Finally, he reached the front cloakroom, and clawed his way through the door. Just as he tripped out, happy to see the fresh moonlight, his view was blocked by two towering figure. Two police officers, coming for backup.
They grabbed Brendon harshly, securing a grip on his arms as they forced him to his feet and down the road. He tried to fight back, but he couldn't do much against two officers.
Down the road was a series of cop cars lined up, clearly prepared to be filled. They shuffled Brendon down the road, and into the 3rd car down.
The seats were oddly uncomfortable as he settled in the seat, panting aggressively as he accepted his fate. The air inside was cold, and it felt realised: like waking from a fever dream.
Just as he settled, the door opened once more, and a man was forced inside besides him. Brendon looked over, being greeted with a slightly swollen version of his roommate-lover. He bared his teeth, clearly still enraged at the situation.
"Ryan?" Brendon breathed, relieved he was okay at least.
Ryan turned to face Brendon, his expression dropping to one of slightly increased calm.
"Also arrested?"
"Yeah, I guess." Brendon looked down at his knees, smiling softly, "think we can lie our way out of this?"
Ryan breathed out a laugh, small and delicate, but still present, just like how Brendon loved, "I doubt it."