Man Up (A Brendon Urie/Brallon Fanfiction)

Chapter 12

The IV and your hospital bed.

Dallon's PoV

I've always hated hospitals. I know Brendon does too. I watch him sadly from my position in the hard blue chair. They told me everything that had happened to him. They told me he'd gone into an inescapable state of panic. They told me he'd made himself vomit. They told me he passed out eventually when his body couldn't keep up with the amount of anxiety.

They say this kind of thing is very common for post-sufferers of abuse, and this attack was a result of a lot of pent up emotion.

And I was his trigger.

I look at him sadly. I shouldn't have told him I loved him. Even if I explain to him now something like I only meant it as a friend, he'd never believe me. He knows me.

He's just come out of an extremely abusive relationship, and less than a month later I tell him I love him? For fucks sake, what was I thinking?

I do love him, though. I love him with every ounce of my being, and I have for years. I want to fix him. I want to show him he can find love, true love. I love all the cheesy nonsense that romantic films give as reasons to love a person. I fell in love with his eyes, his personality, his talent.

I can't explain how broken I was when him and Audrey got together. And when I found out his situation, a tiny, evil part of me was happy, because it meant I might have had a chance.

And I blew it.

I watch him stir slightly.

"Dallon, is that you?" He whispers, eyes opening slightly to squint at me. I nod slowly.

"Brendon, I'm so sorry, I—"

"No, Dallon, I'm sorry. I panicked, I didn't know how to say it. It's so soon after Audrey, but... I love you too."

"You do?" I whisper, feeling my eyes become glossy with tears. He nods weakly. I lean across the bed towards him, locking our lips in a small, gentle, but passionate kiss. It has so much meaning.

"I'm sorry, Dallon. I started liking you when I became so afraid of Audrey, and I never said anything. But... I do, I love you."

"Dallon? Dallon!"

I blink back into the room, starting awake to the sight of a smiling nurse, holding out a cup of coffee. I take it from her, nodding gratefully. Brendon's still fast asleep.

Of course.

It was a dream.

Real life doesn't happen like that. I'm so stupid. I look at Brendon and sigh. I'd gladly give him anything in the world just to see him smile. But he hates me.

It's 4am. Everybody else went home hours ago. I promised I'd stay with him, and everyone will come back in the morning. He'd much rather wake up to Kenny, or Dan, or Pete, or Patrick. Anyone but me, really. I sigh, and shift to a more comfortable position in the chair.

We never played our set. A crew member explained to the audience that Brendon wasn't able to play the show tonight, and they went straight on to Fall Our Boy's set. It's going to take a lot to convince Bren that it wasn't his fault.

Brendon eyes flicker open. I sit forward in my chair.

"Dallon?" He whispers. I move closer to him, go to take his hand, then decide against it. He blinks at me and I wait politely for him to speak.

"Dallon, I'm so sorry, I—"

"No, Brendon, it's okay, I shouldn't have said it. Let's just pretend it didn't happen."

He nods sadly, looking away from me. "What happened?"

"You had a severe panic attack, you threw up, then fainted—"

"No, what happened to me?"
He sighs again, rubbing his arm, "I want to be happy Dallon, Audrey's gone, I know that, but I still can't make myself be happy about it. It's like s-she's still controlling me. I don't know what to do. I'm trying so hard, Dallon."

"We know you are, but it's a steady process. She abused you, Brendon, it's completely natural." I reassure him. There's a long pause as he struggles for a response.

"I want to get help." He says eventually. "I want to be happy again."

"You can't force it, Brendon." I say, taking his hand in a way that I hope he understands is me trying to comfort him and not me trying to get with him.

"I can. Put me on pills, I don't care. I want to get over her. I want to show Audrey she doesn't control me anymore."

"We can't just put you on pills—"

"They will if I ask them to. They'll put me on antidepressants, because they've been wanting to for a while now. I just have to agree." He says, forcing himself upwards in bed.

"Are you sure?" I ask, rubbing my thumb across the back of his hand. He closes his eyes and sighs.

"More than anything."