// then the time for being sad is over/ and you miss 'em like you miss no other/ but being blue is better than being over it, over it//
hallelujah - panic! at the disco

he sat in his home, laying down on the couch, and listening to the latest news in the entertainment industry. raindrops hit the windows and walls softly, and the previous downpour had simmered down. an empty bottle of scotch sat, overturned by his side, and arms hung limply off the couch.

"brendon urie, lead singer of panic! at the disco has resigned from his position. he is seeking to divorce from his wife, sarah urie, whom he'd been married to since april 27th, 2013. their marriage faced no previous bumps, and insider has reached out to mr. urie, but he remains silent on the matter."

his ears perked up, and his heart skipped a beat. stomach in knots, the man turned the volume up, craning his head to look at the TV. he leaned forward more and more until he was falling off the couch.

a face appeared on the screen and the man's breath hitched. it was a familiar face. glasses perched on that linear nose, his perfect jawline casting shadows down his neck. those dark hazel eyes were looking into the camera, filled with pain.

"i just- you know, all things have to come to an end, r-right?" it seemed as though brendon was asking the viewer for advice. "i- uh- i j-just thought that hey, maybe drifting off and doing my own thing would be a good idea," he continued, pushing back a sob. "i uh- i-j-just don't know," he finished, tears streaming down his face, and ran outside of the camera's view.

the man shut off the TV and looked at the light brown wall behind the electronic. sighing, he shook his head and bit his lip.

swallowing nervously, he stood up and strode to the kitchen, limping a little. he passed by a mirror but he ignored it. it was shattered anyway, and he could still feel the scratches on his fist.

he opened the cupboard and pulled out another bottle of scotch. holding it, he made his way back to the couch and plopped down on it, resting his head against the rest. the man took a sip and choked. he took another and this time the drink went down. as it rolled down his throat, he took another sip, and another, until the bottle was half empty.

a buzz snapped him out of his thoughts. his iphone's screen lit up on the table beside him. the man looked at the phone.

imessage, it read below a number he didn't recognize. who could that be? no one ever messaged the man. the man was alone. he swiped the screen and typed his passcode, 2009.

a white screen followed by a single grey bubble spiking to the left of his screen. and all it read was

"i miss you"