All Hail The King || Brendon Urie x Reader

V

Holding his hands up, he steps aside, letting you pass without interference. You don't thank him. You don't even look at him. Hell, it might be better that way.
Phone held tightly in your fist, you make your way towards the front door, ready to go absolutely apeshit. There's a small scuffle behind you but it's distant and muted to you.
I cannot believe he has the balls to actually show up. He's stupid! A goddamn idiot!
"Y/N," Brendon's voice cuts through your thoughts. You purse your lips, refusing to stop. His hand barely brushes your shoulder.
You flinch away from his touch, turning so fast the end of your braid hits you in the eye. He tries to say something but you beat him to it. "What the hell do you want?"
Brendon hesitates. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright. You seem-"
"Irritated? Pissed off? Ready to beat the absolute shit out of your guest?"
"You think I had something to do with this?!" One hand gestures in the general direction of the front door, the other is flattened against his chest. "I don't even know who this guy is and you're gonna just-"
Rolling your eyes, you spare yourself the ridicule, turning away. Brendon, however, is having none of it. He takes hold of your arm – not enough to hurt, but any gentleness he'd shown you the night before was long gone – and forces you to stop.
"Let go of me," you growl, trying to sidestep him.
A stray tuft of hair falls over his forehead as he does the exact opposite of what you want, his hands easily keeping you in place by your biceps. The fire in his eyes reflects yours, "No."
"I swear to God-"
"You don't know who could be down there! Zack's description of this guy is hardly anything to go by and who knows what could-"
"Damnit Brendon! Hands off!" Interrupted for now a second time, his jaw hangs loose. You shake him off. "Trust me, anything I do to him will be much worse than what he could do to me."
"You don't know that," he mutters after a long moment. You open your mouth to argue, but alas, the way his words fall off his tongue are far heavier. "You don't."
Your shoulders drop, not by much, but enough that he dares to take a step closer. You shake your head weakly. "Stop treating me like a kid," you murmur. "You're not the only one who had to grow up."
You stare each other down. The fire flickers, wilting in the oncoming storm. Turning away, you're relieved when his footsteps don't follow. In fact, the only thing you hear doesn't even come from Brendon at all.
"Jesus," the man, Zack, breathes out. "You just had to pick the fiesty one, didn't ya?"
You don't wait for a response. Thundering down the stairs, your eyes burn a hole through the pale white door. The silhouette on the other side of the glass shifts slightly. You were ready for a fight, and by god, you were going to go down swinging. Your fingers wrap around the handle.
"Wait!" Shoulders dropping, you pivot to watch Brendon rushing towards you.
"Seriously? Can you really not take a hint?"
Stopping next you, he smoothes out his shirt, his other hand carding through his hair. His lips twitch downwards at your comment.
"No, I got the hint," he says, his voice clipped at its end. "I don't like this at all-"
You tighten your grip on the handle, deadpanning, "I'm gonna open the door now."
"-but I'm not gonna let you do this alone."
If you listened closely, you could hear your heart stammer, caving in on itself at his soft tone.
Now is not the time to be all mushy, Y/L/N.
You turn the handle. Lo and behold stood the man you wanted nothing to do with.
"Thomas."
Wide eyes meet yours as his shoulders drop, running a hand through his blond waves. He resembles briefly a fish out of water.
"Y/N, I was worried-"
You hold a hand up. "Don't give me that shit." His gaze briefly flicks to Brendon who stands behind you, every muscle surely wound tight. Thomas shifts his weight. "What do you want?"
"You, uh, you didn't come home last night."
Gritting your teeth, you raise a brow, fingernails pinching into your palm. "Why do you care? It's not like-"
"Why do I- I was up all night worried about you! You weren't answering my calls and you-"
"Oh, please! You might've been up all night but it definitely wasn't because you were worried."
He straightens, puffing his chest. "The fuck does that mean?"
Any attempt at keeping a level head was quickly thrown out the window. "You know exactly what it means!" You point at his chest, hand shaking. "You were too busy fucking your side piece to be worried about me!"
Tom takes a dangerous step forward, lip curling back in a vicious snarl, his hand smacking yours away. Brendon swears — at least that's what you think it is given it's nothing more than a low growl in the back of his throat — and your hand that was resting on the door drops to his arm as a silent reassurance.
"You're one to talk!" Tom snaps fiercely. "I'm sure you had plenty of fun with this asshole, huh?"
"Don't even-"
"Bet you and him managed to get all caught up!"
"For fucks sake, Thomas!" Now it's Brendon's turn to try and soothe you. His hand resting on your bicep, you're certain he can feel the tension in your arm. "You're really stooping that low?"
He throws his hands up, and you pray neither man sees your flinch. "Excuse me," he drawls, "but you were the one who wanted to come to this fucking party in the first place! It's not like you wanted me around! God forbid!" You open your mouth, but he cuts you off. "You're so fucking desperate Y/N. You've been whining about how he-" Tom points behind you, looking up at Brendon "-left you! He left you for years! And yet, you run right back to him the second he calls! Talk about being someone's bitch!"
The crack of skin hitting skin is deafening as it echoes against the pristine marble. Thomas covers his cheek, wincing as his fingers graze the welt the shape of your hand. He doesn't move the hair from his eyes.
"Leave, Thomas," you manage, chest heaving with the effort not to cry. Your mothers voice rings in your head. Never let the cause see the effect. It only leads to trouble and your heart can only take so much.
"Don't worry about getting your shit," he spits. "I'll make sure to burn it all."
You pull away from Brendon, taking one bare step towards Thomas who shifts anxiously backwards. You blow a hot breath through clenched teeth.
"Go ahead," you snarl. "But just remember; you catch fire, I won't piss to put you out."
Fear swelters in his hazel eyes. Backing down the stairs, he doesn't dare turn around until he bumps into the still waiting taxi, clambering in with a desperate attempt at playing it cool. The faded yellow metal turns out of the drive and disappears into the distant traffic.
Almost numbly, you stumble back into the house, your knees threatening to give out. Brendon shuts the door and with three quick, careful steps, is right in front of you.
"Y/N?" When he doesn't get a proper answer, he reaches out, but your eyes snap to his the moment his fingertips brush your skin.
"Don't," you whisper, your voice broken. "Please."
You hate the way his features soften, a look of pity directed your way. You hate it, you hate it, you hate it.
"I'm just trying to help-"
"I don't need it, okay?!" Brendon's brows twist, reminding you of a kicked puppy. Your lip trembles. "I don't need it."
Silence moves swiftly between the two of you, gracefully dipping between hurt and hatred the way a gull swoops from sea to sky.
"But do you want it?"
His voice is low; thunder rumbling in his chest. Squeezing your eyes shut, you steel yourself, refusing to settle in the sound. But when you look at him, you can't stop the splintering of your heart.
"Of course I do," you murmur. "I always have."
Brendon steps forward. His hand slowly moves to your face, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone.
"Y/N," he breathes, the air brushing your cheeks. The memories that flood your mind at the sound of your name makes your soul cry out.
"I have to go," you whisper. You shake your head, pushing yourself away despite his objection.
"Where are you gonna go? You can't go back to him."
"Home," you say, emotion draining with every passing second.
Brendon purses his lips, but makes no further argument against it. "At least let Zack drive you."
All you can manage is a mindless nod. Urie's voice is a distant hum, none of what he's saying registering properly. In fact, time itself seems to bend, curving away from linear as the minutes pass by in seconds.
You keep running through the what if's. Through every scenario in which you might've made it out unscathed, but they all reek of half truths and regrets. There was no way you could've saved your heart.
True, you didn't have to come to the party. But the idea of missing what you knew as your only chance to see Brendon would've eaten you alive. Because in the end, Tom was right. You were willing to drop everything for the boy that left you.