Love in Las Vegas

Ryan Ross POV

I picked up my guitar, and began strumming lightly. The melody, the rhythm, the beat, just flowed from my fingers to the delicate strings of the guitar. I felt like I was in heaven. I felt like I was flying. It was exhilarating.

I usually play my guitar when something BIG happens, like KING KONG BIG; like losing your virginity to a sweet, sweet boy that makes you quiver at the sound of their name BIG. It’s GIGANTIC. It’s ENORMOUS. This BIG, GIGANTIC, ENORMOUS thing that happen was the day I laid eyes on a boy with full pink lips, big brown eyes with an applebottom that makes you want to squeeze out the juice. His name is—Brendon Boyd Urie.

I meant Brendon the day after my 21st birthday. I swear it was love at first sight. I know that sounds impossible, but his big brown eyes made me feel warm and soft just after one look. We were introduced by my best friend since I was 5 years old—Spencer James Smith V. Brendon and I began talking, and found out we had a lot in common. Such as, music, music, did I say music. Also, we both grew up in Nevada, and wanted something BIG out of life. By the end of the night, Brendon and I exchange phone numbers, and haven’t stopped talking since.