Leon Urie (Adopted By The Uries) ~COMPLETE~

Chapter Sixteen

“Okay, I'm heading out,” Brendon ruffled Leon's hair in passing and grabbed the car keys off of counter. “Don’t set the house on fire while I'm gone.”
 “Don’t worry, I'll keep him in check,” Frankie replied, giggling.
 “Sounds good to me. I'll be back in an hour, kiddos,” Brendon said on his way out.
  “Bye, Dad,” Leon said, then turned back to his drawing.
 A few moments later, the door opened again and Brendon stuck his head back in, saying, “Hey, I almost forgot, someone is coming in like one and a half hours to fix the TV, if I'm not back yet just let them in and show them the TV set, 'kay?”
 “Okay,” Leon nodded. “No problem.”
 “Okay, love ya.”
 “Love you too, Dad.”
  When the front door had closed, Frankie propped her chin in her palm. “Your dad is cool.”
  Leon glanced up at her, smiling. “Yeah… he is. Mom is cooler, though.”
 “That's the tea, sis” Frankie said in a scarily good James Charles impression.
  “Calm down, Sister James.” Leon giggled.
 “Never,” Frankie grabbed his hand, and continued, “I vow never to be not extra.”
  Leon snorted, but didn't remove his hand from Frankie's. “You’re so cute,” he said, only stuttering a little. After almost two months of dating Frankie, he'd finally gotten used to saying things like that to her without blushing to the roots of his hair.
 “Aw, beano, you're obviously the cute one.” Frankie protested.  
 “Okay, then you're the absolutely stunning one,” Leon replied stubbornly.
  “Ugh, I give up,” Frankie sighed dramatically. “You're impossible.”
 Leon grinned at her.
  Just then, Frankie's phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag and groaned, looking at the display. “I gotta answer this,” she told Leon apologetically. Picking up, she said, “Hey, Grandma,” in a faux perky tone. She was quiet for a while, listening. Leon could hear a croaky voice ramble about something.
 “Grandma, I'm-” Frankie rolled her eyes annoyedly as her grandmother cut her off. “-I’m busy. I'm at my friend's house. Well, yeah, my boyfriend, why does it-”
 Frankie had told Leon about her grandmother, and the way she treated Frankie's family as servants.
  Frankie let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, Grandma. I'll see you in a bit.” she hung up. “She wants me to come help her make lunch. I swear to Geesus and Beebus and the fuckin’ holy Stumpsus, one day I will explode.” She put her chin in her palm again. “I'm sorry, Leon, I wanted to stay longer.”
 “It’s okay, Frankie,” Leon said hastily. “I don't want you to get in trouble with your grandma.”
 “Maybe she'll let me come back after a while,” Frankie said hopefully as she stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder.
  “I hope so,” Leon said, getting up as well. “If not, I'll see you tomorrow at school, right?”
  “Yup,” Frankie nodded. She grabbed Leon's hands, lingering, not wanting to leave yet.
  “You should probably get going,” Leon mumbled.
  “Yup,” Frankie said again, puffing out her cheeks. She scooted a little closer to Leon. “I don't wanna,” she complained.
  “I-I don't want you to, either, but I don't want you to get in trouble.” Leon didn't let go of Frankie's hands.
  “Hmm, you're a cutie.” Frankie freed one of her hands to boop Leon's nose with her finger.
  “No, you,” Leon countered.
  “Shut up,” Frankie giggled, then quickly leaned forward and kissed Leon. It was really just a peck on the lips, sweet and over in a split second, but it was enough to make Leon blush. Before he could react, though, Frankie hugged him tightly and, a moment later, slipped past him.
  Turning at the door, she said, “See you, cutie-pie.”
 “Bye, Frankie,” Leon replied, and then Frankie was gone.
  After locking the door, Leon sat down at the table again, looking down at the drawing he'd been working on. The unfamiliar blue eyes looked back at him, smiling without seeing. Leon suddenly felt very alone. He took the sketchbook and his case of colored pencils into the living room, sitting in one of the squashy, comfortable armchairs. He had been drawing for about twenty minutes when the doorbell rang, making him jump and drop the pencil he was using.
  He approached the door carefully, palms sweating. Looking through the peephole, he didn't recognize the man standing there. The fish-eye glass distorted the man's face, so all Leon could tell was that he  was wearing a nondescript gray windbreaker with the hood up. As Leon considered whether or not he should open the door, the guy knocked loudly, making Leon jerk back from the door. Slowly, Leon reached for the lock on the door and opened it, thinking that the guy was probably just the television-repairman, a bit early.
  Leon opened the door a crack. “H-hey. Can I help y-you?” Something was wrong, now that he had gotten a good look at the man, and suddenly Leon wished with all his might that he'd just left the door locked. The man was heavy-built, with wide shoulders. His face was oval, with the first wrinkles of age showing at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He was clean-shaven, but there were some spots of blood where he seemed to have cut himself while shaving. Curly, gray-brown hair poked out from under the hood of his wind breaker. His eyes were a warm brown, but they were bloodshot and there were dark bags under them.
  The man smiled, and the hairs on the back of Leon's neck stood up. There was something eerily familiar about the way the man looked, and suddenly, Leon understood. That was no repairman.
  Leon tried to slam the door closed, but the man was quicker, and stronger. He shoved the door open, making Leon stumble back, almost falling over.
 “Hello, Estelle,” said Garth Thomas. His voice was soft and made Leon feel very uncomfortable.
 “That’s- that's not my n-n-name.” Leon's voice shook. He was slowly backing up toward the kitchen.
 Something flashed across Garth's face, a crazed, angry, wide-eyed expression, but a moment later, he had composed his face again. His voice had a harsh note in it when he spoke. “It’s the name your mother gave you, Estelle. It was her mother's name. Look at me when I am speaking,” Garth suddenly roared, advancing two steps. Leon's back hit the wall as he retreated further. He was shaking from head to toe.
  “Why didn't you answer my letters?” Garth asked, his voice becoming gentle again.
  “W-what did you do to me that put you in prison for eight years?” Leon countered with more confidence than he felt.
 “I never treated you in any way that warranted how they took you away from me,” Garth's voice shook now, too. “Yes, I was harsh sometimes, but I loved you. I treated you as my daughter.”
  “I- I have nightmares about you hitting me!” Leon spat. He didn't know where this boldness was coming from, but he was glad of it, because it kept his knees from collapsing.
  “You didn't obey me. If you had listened, I wouldn't have had to make you!” Garth's voice rose again, and Leon shrank away from him.
 “I was six years old,” Leon said, quietly. Then, louder, “Six! You can't hit a six-year-old like that.”
 “I am your father, I have the authority to correct you in any way I see fit-”
 “You're not my dad, not anymore!” Leon shouted. In the silence following this, he felt a single tear slide down his cheek. The look on Garth's face terrified him.
 He saw the slap coming, but didn't have the time or wits to duck away. Garth's hand left a stinging mark on Leon's cheek.
  “Don’t ever talk to me like that again,” Garth roared. “You are my daughter, you will do as I say.”
 Leon cradled his stinging cheek, and said nothing for a solid twenty seconds. His shoulders curled back in on himself, and he could feel his confidence draining away by the second. He was crying now, more in shock than anything else, but he managed to mumble, “I’m not a girl.”
  “That’s what they made you,” Garth's voice was scarily calm and gentle again, as if he'd never gotten angry. “They made you into something wrong. They confused you. All I want,” his voice was thick, and Leon looked at him in shock and disgust, seeing that he was crying as well. “All I want is my little Estelle back. I never meant to hurt you….” A large hand reached out to touch Leon's shoulder, but Leon jerked away, stumbling back.
 Just in that moment, Leon heard a car door slam, and, joy of joys, he recognized the sound of footsteps on the front steps, and the jangling of keys. Garth had frozen, and now he turned as the door opened. Leon watched as his hand fumbled with the back of his windbreaker and pulled a handgun out of the waistband of his work jeans. Leon screamed a warning, and Brendon was brought up short at the door, finding himself facing the nose of a gun, and behind that, the contorted face of a madman.
  “Be very, very careful,” Garth was breathing heavily.
 Leon watched as his dad, his real dad, the one who wasn't psychotic, slowly raised his hands, keyring dangling from one thumb.
 “Who are you?” Brendon asked, though he had a good idea who it was.
 “I’ve come to take my daughter back,” Garth said as a reply. “I don't need anyone to get hurt, I just need Estelle.”
 Leon's hands covered his mouth, insides boiling, terrified that Garth would shoot his dad. “Please...” his mutter was muffled by his hands, but it was enough to make Brendon look at Leon again.
 “Are you okay, kiddo?” he asked. Leon could detect a hint of panic in his voice.
 Leon lowered his hands and quavered, “I- I'm okay, I think.”
  Brendon nodded, even smiling a little. Then his eyes flicked back to Garth. “Listen. I don't have any claim on Leon, except if he wants to stay here. If he wants to go with you, that's all right. But it's his choice. Won't you listen to him?”
 “I am her father, I choose what's best for her.” Garth hissed. “And don't call her that name, either, or my finger might slip.”
 “He chose it, and I'll honor it until-”
 “Dad, no!” Leon interrupted his dad, as Garth's finger came dangerously close to pressing the trigger. His shout had a startling effect. Both Brendon and Garth looked at him and the gun wavered and lowered a few inches. It was still pointing at Brendon's chest, however.
  “Just- just listen,” Leon made himself step closer to Garth. “Please, I'll go with you if you don't hurt Brendon. I'll be- I'll be a girl-”
  “Leon, no-!” Brendon started, but Garth pointed his gun at Brendon's face.
  “Shut up,” he hissed.
  Leon took a shaky breath, and continued. “Just- put the gun down, and I'll g-go with you.”
  Brendon was pressing his lips together and shaking his head, but Leon forced himself to ignore it, sure that his resolve would break if he looked at his dad.
 Garth slowly lowered the gun, but kept it in his hand. Leon clenched his jaw and walked toward Garth, who had extended a hand. As Leon reluctantly took Garth's hand, he made the mistake of looking into Brendon's face.
  His dad's expression was a mixture of pain, anger and pure heartbreak. Suddenly, Leon couldn't help it. He wrestled his hand free from Garth's grip and pretty much flew into Brendon's arms. He wrapped his arms around his dad's neck, intending never to let go, and Brendon's arms came up to hug him protectively.
  A heavy sigh made Leon remember that Garth was still there, still holding a handgun, still dangerous. He pulled away from his dad slightly, looking at Garth.
 “I see how it is,” Garth's voice was low. The hand holding the gun pointed at Leon's dad was shaky. “You will never go with me willingly.” He was speaking directly to Leon.
  Leon bit his lower lip and shook his head.
  “I can't be happy without you, Estelle,” Garth continued. “I need a daughter. I need you.”
 Leon clenched his fists, ready to do anything to keep Garth from hurting his dad. But the gun wasn't pointing at Brendon anymore. Garth's eyes looked directly into Leon's as he put the gun to his own head.
 “Can you live with yourself, knowing that this is your fault?” The gentle, breakable voice was back, and he closed his eyes as his finger tightened on the trigger.
  Leon was frozen to the spot as he watched Brendon dive for Garth's hand in slow motion, twisting the gun away from Garth's head and- BANG. The bullet embedded itself in the wall and the gun skidded away across the floor. Brendon had tackled Garth to the floor, Garth's head cracking against the first stair on the way down. He was dazed, trying to shove Brendon off of him, unsuccessfully. Leon heard sirens in the distance, coming closer by the second. Soon they were right outside the house, and four police officers in bulletproof vests and helmets clattered through the front door, guns at the ready. Leon was sick of guns. He figured numbly that one of the neighbors had probably heard the shouts and called 911.
 Brendon must have hit his head as well, because a police officer had to help him get up. He staggered for a moment, then seemed to regain his balance, and walked over to Leon, engulfing him in a tight hug, which Leon returned. Finally, the tears came, and once they did, they refused to stop for a long time. Leon never even got a last look at his biological father as he was led away.