Church Boys † Brendon Urie

27✝ We Can Be Broken Together

Staring stunned at him, I finally noticed the long burn mark that ran across his torso, and blistered directly over his ribs. I contemplated whether or not I should just lie to him and tell him that I had merely walked in when his recklessness and awful aim sent a stray card right into my cornea, but that would be rude and dishonest, which are two sinful things that I am not. Brendon saved me from having to answer, anyways, as he walked over to the stereo which was still pounding out the song he had been singing along to, at an obnoxious volume. I watched him reach out and flick off the power button. The silence following was almost deafening.

"I came here because I wanted to give you these," I held up the slightly squashed box of chocolates and stuffed turtle I'd brought him. Gently, he took the items out of my hand and inspected them with curiosity, his brown eyes scanning them as he sat down on his bed. "And, I also came here because I wanted to see how you were doing..." Brendon shook his head at this statement, rubbing his hand idly against the turtle's fur.

"Fine. Just fucking peachy," he muttered dryly, and I couldn't tell if he was being genuine, or sarcastic. I placed my bets on the latter.

He reached down and grabbed a light blue t-shirt from the floor beside his bed, and began to make an attempt to put it on by himself.

"Do you need some help?" I asked, eyeing his bandaged arm. The only thing sticking out were the tips of his fingers and his thumb, and I figured that wasn't enough for him to work with.

"I got it," he said a bit too quickly as he continued to struggle with the shirt. I could tell he was trying to not only look independent, but cool as he easily slipped the fabric over his head with his unbandaged arm. But then, perhaps all too soon, his attempt to seem casual crashed and burned as the fabric got twisted in his grip somehow. Shortly after, he began to tangle himself up in his own shirt, causing himself to nearly topple over onto the hardwood floor below. His eyes looked helpless and confused, and he began wincing every couple of seconds before finally sighing loudly in defeat.

"Do you need help now?"

"Shut up."

I walked over and grabbed his arm, unraveling it from it's trap. Seconds later I had helped him get his other arm into its sleeve, and pulled the rest of the fabric gently over his torso to finish the job. I figured if he was going to try to be defiant and independent by himself so soon, then this new job was going to be harder than expected. It would always be hard to 'help' someone who refused help in any way possible.

"So, what are these?" He asked as he gazed down at the items I'd handed him a minute ago.

"I got you some marshmallow strawberry chocolates and a stuffed turtle," I gestured toward the turtle meekly to illustrate my point, and he nodded. "Ab said you liked that kind," I felt the need to explain myself, watching intently he looked down at the box once again, self conscious about its slightly crumpled state. Brendon didn't seem to care about that, though, as he ripped open the box and stuffed a couple of the chocolates into his mouth. That was a good sign, at least.

Picking up the turtle, he held its eyes level with his own and let out a slight snort that made me smile. "It's cute," his speech was hard to understand through the thick wad of chocolate in his mouth. "Let me guess, she told you I like turtles as well?"

I nodded in reply with my head low, hoping I didn't seem presumptuous as I shifted a stack of discarded envelopes and slowly sat down on his bed, keeping myself a foot or so away from him, just to be sure I wasn't intruding in his space. He didn't move- not further away from me, which was a relief, but not closer to me either- just dug his hand back into his chocolate box, plucking another half melted lump of candy out and stuffing it into his mouth. Melted chocolate covered his fingertips, and he licked it off before speaking.