✧ ✧ ✧

note: part 1 can be found in Emo Quartet Imagines: Volume I.
it's important that you read it first. x

✧ ✧ ✧

"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Dallon asked, concern evident on his face and in his voice as he sat on Brendon's sofa, watching anxiously while his friend gussied up in the hallway mirror.

"Dude, for sure," Brendon scoffed cockily.

Pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes, he ran one hand through his low-hanging hair, swiping it to the side and puffing it up a little. Now satisfied with his appearance, he turned to look at Dallon.

"Chicks always dig Ryan," he reminded before walking over to the kitchen counter and whispering to himself, "Don't ask me why."

"I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure that that's mostly because of the way he presents himself," Dallon countered, standing up and crossing over to his friend, "And no offence - but you're the exact opposite."

Brendon widened his eyes, threw out his arms and nodded. "And yet chicks dig me, too. Hence, Ryan's looks plus my personality, equals me having a hundred percent chance of scoring this girl."

The younger man clicked his tongue and pat his friend's arm playfully.

"C'mon. Let's go."

As Dallon watched Brendon - taking on the appearance of Ryan - open the front door and rush out, he shut his eyes and shook his head disdainfully.

"Honestly, why do I still hang out with him?"

~

Taking his change from the cab driver, Brendon thanked him and climbed out of the vehicle. Dallon exited the other side and walked over to join Brendon on the sidewalk.

The coffee shop was on the corner right in front of them; Brendon rubbed his hands together and breathed in deeply as he looked up at the sign.

"Alright. Game time."

Always the voice of reason, Dallon tried once more to dissuade his friend from going through with his awful plan.

"B, I really don't think this is a good idea," the taller man frowned worriedly, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket, "I mean she clearly said-"

"That she wasn't interested in me," Brendon finished, rolling his eyes, "Never said anything about Ryan, through."

"You have a problem."

"Not for long," Brendon smirked, wiggling his brows as he started forward, "Wait here. This will only take a minute."

Relenting, Dallon heaved the heaviest of sighs and made his way over to a nearby bench.

Brendon entered the store, the bell fixed to the top of the door alerting you to his presence. Looking up from the sandwich you were preparing, you perked up at the sight of the handsome stranger standing in the doorway.

He had a cute, boyish face with slightly curly brown hair that hung down over his eyes, and a cute dimpled smile. You made eye contact and he grinned, forcing you to do the same.

"Be with you in a minute," you called to him, and he nodded as he crossed over to the front counter.

After wiping some crumbs from your hands, you packed the sandwich onto the last empty place in the food display, then turned your attention fully to the cute guy.

"What'll it be?"

"Could I get a grande cap annndddd...." he leaned back and peeked at the pastries on display, pointing to one and smiling, "one of those beauties, please."

"Coming right up."

As you went to work on preparing his order, Brendon smirked to himself as he watched you. He didn't think it was possible, but you looked even hotter than he remembered. And that was saying something.

It wasn't everyday a girl captured his attention like you had.

It also wasn't everyday that a girl rejected him in his usual form, and it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that it was for that reason that he had chosen to pursue you; you proved a challenge.

His was a simple order and didn't take more than a couple minutes to prepare. You set his coffee and muffin on the counter between you two.

"There ya go. That'll be $4.95," you informed.

Handing over a $10 bill, he smiled once again. Having him in such close proximity made you flustered, and you looked down as you took the money.

"If this isn't very good, do I get my money back?" he joked, causing you to scoff.

Placing a hand on your chest, you feigned hurt. "I'll have you know, I'm the best damned barista in this city."

His eyes glinted mischievously. "This city or this block?"

"Ouch," you laughed, using your hip to shut the cash register. "Why so mean?"

Brendon shrugged. "Maybe I'm just sad."

You cocked your head. "Sad about what?"

"Sad that I don't have your number yet."

A smile materialised on your face despite how hard you tried to suppress it. You looked at him coyly as you held out his change.

"Oh, is that so?"

He reached forward to accept the money. "Yeah. I was hoping that- AH, SON OF A BITCH!"

Feeling his hand burn furiously, Brendon looked down at where your hands met, realising that your ring had brushed against his skin.

Your silver ring.

"Oh, fuck me," he muttered under his breath.

Looking back up at you, your shocked and angry face confirmed his horrible realisation - he had shifted back into his usual self.

Holding out both hands, he arched his brows and tilted his head downwards. "I can explain."

"You're a psycho," you deadpanned, moving to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," he rushed along the length of the counter, reaching out in an attempt to stop you, "Just give me a minute to explain."

"What's wrong with you?" you asked in disbelief, shaking your head.

"Well, a lot of things, actually, but that's not the point." He managed to get you to stop walking, and now looked at you seriously. "Look, I'm sorry about that night at the party, alright? I was just having some fun and... I mean, I thought - I think - you're super fucking gorgeous and," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I don't know, it was just a little bit of stupid fun. I realise that it was probably super offensive and I apologise."

You looked at him unblinking and cold. "So why the hell did you come in here as someone else and try to ask me out?"

"I honestly don't have an excuse for that."

Scoffing, you turned to leave again, but he called out to you.

"I really wanna make it up to you! Can I make it up to you?"

Stopping in your tracks, you turned around slowly. Now facing him again, you nodded.

"You wanna make it up to me?"

He nodded vigorously. "I do. Will you let me?"

"Well, I..." you sighed softly, lightly treading over to the counter again, "I suppose I should give you my number, then."

Picking up a pen and notebook from under the register, you scribbled down as a group of customers came through the door. Tearing the page out, you looked up at him and gave the tiniest of smiles as you folded it up.

"I'll be waiting," you said, handing it over.

Brendon smiled at you, watching as you walked away to attend to the new customers. Tucking the paper in his pocket, he smirked to himself as he exited the shop.

Holding up one hand, he hailed a cab and gestured to Dallon to join him. The guys clambered into the vehicle, giving the address to the driver.

"So, how'd it go?" Dallon asked eagerly.

Without looking at his friend, Brendon pulled the piece of paper out from his pocket and held it up between two of his fingers.

"Told ya," he said, then looked to Dallon with a smile.

"That easy, huh?" 

Brendon started unfolding. "That eas-"

Seeing his friend's face drop, Dallon frowned. "What is it?"

Leaning over, he saw. There on the paper, in wonderfully beautiful handwriting, read:

𝑔𝑜 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x