Weekends

38- Collapse and Crying- D

Dall 🎨: Hey, hun, are you doing okay?
Dall 🎨: Can I come over?
Dall 🎨: Bren
Dall 🎨: Sweetheart, if I did something to upset you, you would tell me, right?
Dall 🎨: Brendon
Dall 🎨: If you want, I can come pick you up, and we can watch Tangled in my bed
Dall 🎨: I have cake mix
Dall 🎨: I love you so much

I kept calling and texting Brendon, but I wasn't getting any answers. Maybe I should have been paying closer attention to him after what had happened with Anderson. I knew how upset and insecure he got. I tried calling him again but still didn't get an answer.

"Hey, flower. It's Dallon. I- um I know you don't usually listen to voice messages and I don't usually uh leave them, but I just wanted to see if I could come pick you up. I rented Tangled on Amazon Prime last night because Al wanted to watch it, and she wants to watch it again but with you. I um obviously want to see you too. We can watch it in my bed, and I found a box of cake mix in the pantry too. I- uh call me back when you get the chance. Um I want to hear your-your voice. I love you a lot, Brendon. Call me. Love you. Damn, I already said that. Love you. Ugh. Bye."

I knew something was wrong when he didn't text back. Brendon never left people on read because he knew it made him anxious to not get a response. I just wanted to know that he was okay or if he A few minutes later, I got a phone call from an unknown number. "Hello, may I please speak to Dallon Weekes," the voice said. "That's me," I replied, getting nervous as to how this person knew me. "Mr. Weekes, I'm calling from the California Hospital Medical Center. Do you know Brendon Urie?" I felt my heart plummet. "Um y-yes, he's my boyfriend. I- uh is everything okay?" The woman on the other side of the phone sighed and hesitated. "Sir, I regretfully inform you that he has been admitted," she spoke softly.

"Oh my god, oh my god," I covered my mouth to try and hide my ugly sobs. "Is he okay? Please, god let him be okay. Can I come and see him? When are visiting hours," I rushed out.
"Sir, calm down. He's expected to make a full recovery. Are you of 18 years or older?" I brushed tears off of my face and tried to take a deep breath. "N-no, ma'am. A-and what do you mean a re-recovery? From what," I answered, stumbling over all of the questions that I was throwing at the poor receptionist.

"Mr. Weekes, you need a parent to come with you for your first visit. Your boyfriend will be okay." I nodded but realized she wouldn't be able to see me through the phone. O-okay, when are visiting hours over?" I was in the process of throwing clothes in a bag and grabbing my laptop and my chargers. "They're over at 7. It's 4 o'clock now," she told me. "A-alright, thank you. I'll be there as soon as I possibly can. Can you tell Brendon that for me," I requested, hoping to whatever God is out there that she would tell me that he was awake and doing great. "He's not awake right now," she said.

This made me have to steady myself on my bedpost in order to keep from collapsing in devastation. Brendon had trouble sleeping. He could barely ever fall right to sleep in his own bed, let alone a heavily populated hospital. "W-what happened to him," I asked, biting my lip so hard that it drew blood. "I'm not able to disclose that over the phone. Drive safely and make sure you bring a parent with you to verify your identity and relation to the patient," she spoke. The word 'patient' echoed in my head. That sounded permanent, long-term. I felt like he wouldn't be coming home anytime soon.

"Okay, thank you f-for your help," I whispered before hanging up and throwing things in a duffle bag. I grabbed some of my clothes that Brendon liked sleeping in, two pillows in case he was uncomfortable, a soft blanket that probably smelled like me, and my wallet. "Allison, go get in the car," I called to my sister. "Why would I do that? Brendy is coming over to watch a movie with me. Are you trying to keep him all to yourself? Because that's not fair. He doesn't want to- Dallon," she shouted as she ran into my room, quieting down as she saw me sitting on the floor with tears streaming down my face. "Brendon um- Brendon's in the-the hospital," I whispered.

Before I could even react, my 11 year old sister was by my side, hugging me. "I'm sorry, Dall. Is he going to be okay," she asked from her spot in my lap. She reminded me of Brendon. She was small compared to me but was taller than Brendon because of our family's genes. Her innocent eyes looked up at me with concern as I snapped out of my daze. "I-I don't know. I mean the receptionist from-from the hospital said he was expected to m-make a full recovery, b-but I bet they say to-to all the hysterical family members," I cried, holding her closer.

"It's okay, Dallon. I bet he's okay. He's small but mighty," she comforted me. "Thanks, Al," I laughed slightly, sniffling as I moved her off of my lap and stood up to grab my duffle bag. Allison put on shoes, and we rushed out the door and to my mom's work.

"Dallon, what the hell are you doing here? I thought Brendon was coming over," my mother said as we walked into her office. "Mom, I-I need you to come with me to the hospital. Brendon's hurt, and-and I need a parent to come with me or they w-w-won't let me in. You don't have to stay. I just need to go see him. I'm sorry for bothering you at work, and I know you're busy, but I need to see him, Mom," I tried to keep my composure, but I broke down. My mom stood up from her desk and hugged me. "Sweetheart, he'll be okay. Let me grab my purse, and we'll on our way," she rubbed my back comfortingly and kissed my cheek.

"Wait, Dallon, did you leave your sister home by herself?" I shook my head and helped her pack up her things. "She's waiting in the car." My mom nodded and left a note on her door saying that she had gone for the day, following me to the car.

My mom drove to the hospital because she said I wasn't fit to drive. The trip felt like it took hours even though it was only five minutes from my mom's office building. I ran out of the car and into the hospital as soon as the car was parked, pulling my mom and sister along with me. "Hello, sir. How can I help you," the receptionist asked. "I-I'm Dallon Weekes. I'm here to see Brendon Urie. Um this-this is my mom," I answered, out of breath. "Alright. Mr. Urie is sleeping right now, but you all are welcome to go back. He's in room 2319." I nodded and rushed to the elevator.

Brendon's room was right outside the elevator on the ninth floor. I looked to my mom and sister as they told me they would wait outside. My hand slowly reached for the door handle. I was shaking, nervous to see what my precious boyfriend looked like. I opened the door and immediately gasped. He looked awful.

One of Brendon's eyes were bruised, blood was caked all over the right side of his face, and he was fast asleep. I covered my mouth and shut the door behind me, carefully placing my bag on the floor. I walked over to the bed and saw his breathing tube and IV. "Oh my god," I whimpered. "Brendon, what happened to you?" My soft, innocent boyfriend who would never hurt a fly was now lying in a hospital bed with blood and bruises covering any part of his body that wasn't covered my the hospital gown. I pulled a chair up to the bed and held his hand, placing a kiss to the back of it.

"D-D-D-allon," he muttered, his swollen eyes squinting open. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I'm here. You can go back to sleep," I whispered, pressing my lips to his cheek. "Mmm, I'm sorry," he slurred. They must have medicated him. "Brendon, you have no reason to be sorry. I love you. Do you understand that? None of this makes you weak or makes me love you any less," I told him. "I thought he was better, Dallon," he told me, his chin quivering and his nose starting to scrunch up. "Baby, you thought who was better?" He squeezed my hand and coughed a few times, wincing as he struggled to catch his breath. "My d-dad."

"Did the doctors tell you what he did to you," I asked, horrified by his condition and who caused this. "No," he told me, whining as he tried to move. "The doctor stopped me in the hallway. You have two broken ribs, a sprained ankle, a black eye, cuts and bruises everywhere, and a collapsed lung," I told him, trying to stay strong as I repeated his extensive list of injuries. "Why didn't you call me, Bren? I heard that your neighbors called 911 when they saw you collapse in your yard."

He started sobbing. "I didn't want to upset you b-by bothering you," he cried. "Oh, Brendon, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. You could never bother me," I tried to comfort him but wound up having to call a nurse because be couldn't breathe. Once he'd calmed down, he had me help scoot him over on the bed and made me lay next to him. "Everything in-in-in my life is such a-a mess, and I-I almost lost the one g-good thing in it because I'm weak," he sniffled. "I'm sorry, B," I said, kissing him softly.