Camp
His hair waved in the air as the hard wind hit him in the face, his eyes flinching every once in a while when a strand of hair would dip into his eyes. He would just tilt his head and the breeze would blow it away.
"Where are we going?" He asked again, resisting the temptation of dipping his head out the window and letting his tongue escape his mouth as he would pant, acting like a dog. The man in the front seat snorted.
"Like hell I'll tell you." He said, not even glancing at Brendon as he drove. Brendon sighed.
"I mean, it's not like if I'll know exactly anyway. Just look at where we are." He said. His eyes trailed along the blurry trees that whipped passed them.
In the middle of the fucking forest? Are you serious?
"Nice try, kid." Mr. Rivas said as he speeded even more. Brendon let out a growl out of frustration.
"For fucking god's sake! I'm not trying anything! And my name isn't 'kid'. It's Brendon, remember. It was the first fucking thing I told you when I saw you!" He yelled. Mr. Rivas turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Keep up with that attitude and I'm sure you won't go back home alive." He said before turning back in his seat. Brendon rolled his eyes and put his elbow on the armrest, resting his head in his hand and staring out the window while his dark brown hair flew again.
"So, kid," Brendon grimaced at his new name, "Why'd your parents send you here?" Mr. Rivas asked, after a long pause. Brendon sighed and pressed one of the two buttons on the door, making the window slowly start rolling up.
"Why do you care?" He shot back.
"Don't make me tell the Coronel about your bad behavior." He warned. Brendon almost snorted.
Bad behavior? What am I? A kindergartener?
"My parents found me rebel." Brendon finally responded, continuing to glare at the fuzzy green view.
Wish I could just open the goddamn door and jump out, so I could live in the forest. A Modern Tarzan, The tips of his lips turned up, No need to go back home.
"Drugs, sex, alcoholism. What is it?" Mr. Rivas asked. Brendon's head snapped to meet his eyes through the rearview mirror, narrowing dangerously.
"Wha- Huh? Of course I didn't do anything like that!" Brendon finally yelled. Mr. Rivas snorted and looked back in front of him, going as fast as his car would let him.
"Well, I couldn't imagine any other reason for your parents to send you to a place like this." Brendon pursed his lips.
"I'm from a very religious Mormon family. Breathing too heavily is a sin." He muttered. Mr. Rivas crackled a laugh and Brendon cringed.
"Almost there, kid. And don't even try escaping. We're days away from any sign of human life. Wouldn't make it alive."
Brendon's child-like eyes widened in disbelief before they went back into their normal form and he sighed.
Could he have expected anything less? This is a summer-camp for 'problematic boys'. Not like those you see in any television show, where you sleep in uncomfortable bunk beds and where they wake you up with the sound of a very loud trumpet.
Or where you play games and swim in the lake until its late night, all gathered around a single bonfire telling scary stories. This was like military camp, only, without the short hair. Brendon would rather die than let them cut his mid-length hair. He kept it shiny for a reason.
Suddenly, a big cabin came into view, surrounded with a gate with electrical spikes on top to prevent kids from escaping. The cabin was old, though had no homey feeling to it. The windows were tinted black and it seemed not a ray of sunlight entered.
Mr. Rivas parked after two men in uniforms opened the gate for him, their expressions impassive, not once meeting his gaze.
Rivas parked aside of a row of identical suburban's that were dyed dark green with a light shade as well, the colors of the military, and turned around with a smirk plastered on his face.
"Welcome to Camp Imperium, kid."
X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X
Always look at him in the eye, His voice echoed in his head as he tried to remember each and every rule, Try not to blink and always reply with a 'sir'. No sarcasm, no mock comments, no backtalk, and don't roll your eyes or anything of that shit. Don't smile or show any sign of pleasure. It only makes him feel as if he's being challenged to wipe it off. And, kid, try not to be rude and audacious for once. He hates arrogants.
"Just believe he's dad." Brendon concluded, a grimace masking his face.
Don't frown, Urie. It'll only make you fucked up face worse with wrinkles. Brendon's best friend's teasing voice appeared in his mind. Jon, his name is.
Brendon contained a snort and he bit his lip to hide his smile as a thought of his usual reply would be.
Sorry. Must have mistaken me for someone to gives a damn.
Nice one, B. Must of took you all night to think of that one.
I'd slap you, but that'd be animal abuse.
Jon's face disoriented and his lips curled up into a scowl in his head.
Stupid sucker.
Brendon remembered rolling his eyes and replying dryly.
You suck.
And you swallow.
"Brendon Boyd Urie." A stony voice interrupted his mental argument with a mind-made Jon and he looked up, finally noticing he had entered the Coronel's office without noticing. It's amazing how much Brendon misses Jon.
He took a deep breath.
X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X
"Stupid shithole. People making me strip. Standing naked for the dumbass to see. Shitty fag. Clothes are horrible. Damn this thing."
The other men stared at Brendon with bewildered eyes and followed his every step as he stood in line for his dog food. Some glared at him but didn't make a move to hurt him like their stares suggested. After all, the guards were in every corner of the room.
He collected his weird looking mush he was supposed to eat on a tray and looked around the small room that was supposed to be a cafeteria. All were full and some people glared at him, daring him to sit with them. Brendon rather not, since there's a reason they're here. At this freaky camp. Murders, rapists, drug-dealers. Brendon tends to think of the worst.
His eyes fall on a lonely table with a hunched back eating. Brendon sighs and walks over, dropping his tray with a loud boom. The figure flinches but doesn't look up.
Brendon wonders if he has manners.
"I'm Brendon." He said. The figure glances up and keeps on eating.
Brendon noticed how his light brown hair covered most view of his auburn-green eyes and pale skin. The dude was fucking skinny… and not to mention good-looking. Such a shame he's here. He's probably a freak.
Brendon and the boy ate in silence for the rest of lunch and for the next couple of weeks Brendon found himself seating himself with him, never once hearing him talk. He had the bunk on top of the boy's and the boy seemed to accept him. In gym running with him in silence and Brendon once even managed to win a radiant smile.
Brendon was falling hard.
I have no fucking idea where to take this.