The moon forgot to fall down

Dall?! Dad?!

Ryan's POV: "Hello. Is this George Ryan Ross III?" Said the lady on the phone when I picked up. "...Yes, it is. Why?"

"I am afraid I am the bearer of bad news. Your father died in an accident, which we think may have been caused by drunk driving."

"Well, I can confirm that he was drunk. He always is." I managed to choke out before the tears started streaming down my face. My father. Dead. Because of how addicted he was. Because of how bad a son I was that caused him to be addicted. "Also, he hit a man called Dallon Weekes, as well as his boyfriend Brendon Urie. They are both in critical condition." I quickly hung up the phone, before tears started streaming down my cheeks. I had already gone back to my high school look where I wore a shit load of eyeliner, apparently I was going to wear scars on my wrists too. I slowly stand and walk to the bathroom.

I pick up my razor, stopping to admire the way the fluorescent light bulbs reflect in the blades. I brought it down on my wrist and pressed, sliding it sideways as I did so. I watched the blood trickle down my wrist, replacing an almost faded scar with a fresh cut. One for Brendon. I brought down my razor again, refreshing another whited out scar. And another for Dallon. Why, why did I go see Brendon? It must have shattered him. The third time I brought it down, i remembered everything my dad had ever done. The scars on my back had faded, but the ones on my heart and my memory remained, and I slashed open my wrist a third time, for being a terrible person for causing my dad to turn to alcohol, and indirectly causing his death. A fourth and final time, over the fresh skin completely unscathed. A new cause of self-hatred. One for his death.

Brendon's POV:

I remember holding Dallon's lifeless body in my arms as I am led to an ambulance. All I remember before waking up on a bed with rough sheets under cheap and flickering fluorescent light bulbs was a doctor telling me my second chance at life is in a coma, and he might never escape it. Then everything went black. Now here I am. The doctors don't know I am awake, and I can hear them talking about the car accident. "Do we know who hit the boys?"

"Yes. A drunk man called George Ryan Ross II." The breath caught in my throat. And then the doctor added, "He is dead though, so his son will have to pay for it." I choked and bolted upright, ignoring the immense pain in my ribs. "NO! Ryan-Ryan can't pay for this! It wasn't his fault! He was abused when his dad was drunk! Don't make him pay more for what his father chose to do!" I then remember what the scenario was when Dallon had looked away from the road, and I knew I had been thinking about Ryan, but that wasn't his fault. He can't control if I think about him or not. 

Suddenly a machine started beeping like crazy, and the shocked doctors went into a frenzy. I look at the bed next to me, which held Dallon. "Clear!" Was yelled, followed by rapid beeps. Only then did I realize what had happened. They started compressions again. "Clear!" Followed by beeping. And I just sat there as the doctor nonchalantly stated: "Time of death; 12:14 pm" I fainted.

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