Drive (Brendon Urie/P!ATD FanFic ft. Green Day)

Chapter 4

Harley's cheeks grew a deep shade of red as she looked down at the plate in front of her, trying to avoid my gaze that was locked on her. "You asked me last night if I wanted to go home with you, because you needed a ride," She answered my question.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean for you to stay here," I retorted. I didn't mean to sound as bitter and angry as I was. She was just pushing buttons of mine she didn't even know I had.

The corner of her lips curled down into a frown as she nodded her head in understanding. "You're right," She murmured under her breath, standing up and shaking her head, "I'm so sorry, Brendon. I just...I thought I could hide from my husband for a little while longer. But I guess not."

I stared at Harley blankly, trying to comprehend what she was saying. I'd never had a girl apologize to me when I inadvertently told them to leave from the one night stand I didn't want Spencer finding out about. Then again, Spencer wasn't here and this wasn't a one night stand. At least, I didn't think it was. It didn't look like she and I slept together. I was still dressed in my clothes from yesterday, and they still smelled of the Jack Daniels I'd accidentally poured on myself when trying to take a sip of the drink at the bar, only to miss my mouth and spill the whiskey all over my shirt.

As for Harley, she looked fine too. In fact, she looked better than I remember her looking. Sure, I thought she was just a dream, but even in my dream, I remember her looking horrible, as if she'd just clawed her way out of a wrestling ring. Her hair was fixed, pulled back into a braid that cascaded over her shoulder. The cuts and dried blood that covered her skin were gone. Her clothes even looked like they'd been tailored, the rips and tears having disappeared.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night here, Brendon," She said, walking around the table and planting a kiss on my head, "I don't know what I would've done if you didn't." She dragged her fingers through my hair once more before walking away toward the front door.

I shook my head and rose to my feet, the scraping sound of the chair legs against the dirty tiled floor stopping Harley in her tracks and bringing her attention over her shoulder to me. "Wait, why are you hiding from your husband?" I inquired.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, her already reddened cheeks growing even darker. "It's hard to explain," She tried to tell me, but I knew there was more to it than that. There had to be. Something wasn't adding up. The pieces weren't adding together.

"Try," I urged her, folding my arms over my chest and maintaining the distance between us. I didn't have a good feeling about this girl, despite her drop-dead gorgeousness, making every guy's dream come true. I didn't know a thing about her. All I knew were the assumptions I'd made, and who knew if those were true or not?

"Brendon, I really should get going," She muttered, trying to get out the situation and backing up toward the door.

I rushed up and slipped myself in front of the door, blocking her way. "You're not leaving until you answer my question," I threatened, looking down at her with my chest rising up and down noticeably. I heaved a sigh and tacked on, "Plus, it's not safe for a girl like you to just walk down this street alone. There's a lot of pervs."

The corner of her lip was pulled upward and her hands found their way to her hips. "You don't think I can handle them?"

"I don't want you to handle them," I replied, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach as my mouth grew dry. I licked my lips and shook my head. "Look, Harley, just answer my question. Why are you hiding?"

She let out a sigh and bit her lip, her eyes that began to glisten making their way to mine. "You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't," I replied, flashing her a small, reassuring grin to let her know she could confide in me. After all, who was I going to tell? Anthony? He was the only person I talked to nowadays, because after Spencer died, I secluded myself from the rest of the world, cutting off all communication.

I even stopped talking to Ryan and Brent, two of Spencer's and my friends, and I refused to pick up their rare calls. I never really got along with them, despite Spencer's efforts to make us all friends. I felt bad, not being able to put aside the differences I had with the two, but we disagreed on almost everything. And when the band dissolved, I felt as though it's what they wanted all along, for us to fail. Spencer would tell me all day that that wasn't true, but he only saw them in the way he saw me. We couldn't do anything wrong in his eyes, no one could.

"Fine," Harley agreed, turning away from me and taking a few strides forward, "You want to know why? Here's why." She spun back around, a sullen expression on her face. "My husband, Dallon, he's a part of this group. This group...I'm not even supposed to know about them. I had to beg him to tell me about it, and when he did, I wish he didn't. The things the group makes him do...it's disgusting, it's mortifying, and it's hard to believe that Dallon, being the kind of guy he is, is doing things like that."

"Like what?" I insisted her to explain. She shook her head, unable to elaborate. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't be in my best interest to push her on that. So instead, I decided to say, "Why do you have to hide from him?"

"Because they found out," She retorted, walking up to me and eliminating the distance we shared. She clung onto my stiff shirt and gave it a slight tug, bringing me closer to her as she continued in a whisper, "The group knows that I know, and because of that..." The glistening in her eyes began to waver, tears starting to build up as she struggled to finish her thought. She took in a shaky breath and forced herself to continue. "...because of that, he tried to kill me."

"He tried to kill you?" I repeated in disbelief.

"Shh!" She reminded me hastily, her eyes wide as she put her index finger up to my lips. She slowly lowered her finger away before saying under her breath, "Yes, Brendon. He tried to kill me; that's why I looked so bad when I walked into that bar. Remember?"