Reality (A Brendon Urie Fan Fiction)

Alternative Ending

Song: Rather Die Young - Beyonce

~Layla's POV~

Near death experiences are pretty damn scary. I'd know. But tonight was scary. Almost losing your spouse from them having a near death experience is worse than almost dying yourself. That was the mindset I had when I tackled Damon to the ground before he had a chance to kill my husband or me. A shot did ring out but luckily, it hit a crate and not Brendon. Before I even knew what I was doing, the butt of my gun was slamming into Damon repeatedly until he wasn't moving. I felt Brendon wrap his arms around me and pull me off. I let him hold me while I sobbed, everything happened so quick I didn't even realize I was crying or how long I was hitting him but it was over now.

"Shhhh baby, I've got you now don't worry." Brendon whispered into my ear while we rocked back and forth on the floor together. We sat like that for a few more minutes until I stood on shaky legs and checked Damon's pulse, making sure he was really dead. I dragged his body to one of the old crates and shoved him in it, closing the lid and leaving the warehouse with Brendon, as if I didn't just kill a man. Again. I put my gun in the waistband of my pants and walked back to the house holding Brendon's hand as tight as I could. I felt that if I let go I'd lose him. When we got back to the house Brendon moved our flight to the morning, the original plan was to stay the week as a honeymoon vacation with the kids but it was ruined by Damon. But Brendon was safe and our children had both parents, I couldn't imagine it any other way.

~Eight Months Later~

"Brendon, if you don't shut the fuck up and get me a pickle, I will stab the fuck out of you." I growled with such intensity I scared myself.

"Layla, it is three in the morning. Is it really that serious?" Brendon groaned into the pillow.

"I'm sorry, did you not just hear me threaten you? If I don't have a pickle in five minutes I'm taking the kids and leaving." I said, sitting up and turning the bedside light on. We had been arguing over my midnight craving for about ten minutes and I was really craving it now. Brendon scoffed and snuggled his pillow closer.

"Sure, take the kids. Good luck raising a three year old, a six year old and an infant by yourself." I knew he got me there and I had one more trick. I thought about the scene from Forrest Gump where Jenny dies for about ten seconds when I started sobbing uncontrollably.

"I just want a pickle! You're my husband and this is your job! I have to push another one of these demons out of my vagina in a month! And you cant get me a pickle?" I wiped my tears and Brendon groaned again, pulling himself out of the bed and heading to the kitchen. We had been having this same argument every night for the past week and I couldn't really remember why he was so frustrated every time I asked for one, that is until I fell asleep before he came back to the room.

~One Month Later (February, 2020)~

"This child is never coming out." I groaned, laying on the couch with my hand on my stomach and my other hand on my face.

"I know! I need a little brother right now! I don't wanna play with Crystal anymore, she rips the heads off my dolls." Oliver whined.

"I'm sorry, we know how your little sister can be. I'm sure your new brother OR sister will be much nicer." I said. Bren and I decided for the gender to be a surprise which made nursery decorating so much fun, it also made me realize gender labeling colors was stupid as hell and our baby had a crazy colorful room because why not? It's in infant, not like it'll complain or anything. While I was in my thoughts Brendon walked in with Crystal on his shoulders. He had been taking her and Oliver down to the studio recently and I had no idea why, I assumed they wanted to go but I didn't really question it.