Wrong number • Brendon Urie x reader

t w e n t y f o u r

A/N: changing from italics bc it annoys me. this is a short one, sorry.

~xoB🦇

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Not seeing your loved one moving energetically or talking for two weeks is painful. It's been two weeks since Brendon was last awake and buzzing from his adhd. I've visited him for countless hours every day, until nurses and doctors have had to threaten me with security to leave.

Zack has come with me for the last few days after noticing how dead looking I seem to be. I have no energy for anything other than visiting Brendon. I've barely slept, barely ate. I was about to do my daily visit when Zack stopped me from walking to the car.

"Y/n? Can we talk before we leave?" He asked, looking at me worriedly.

"Why?" My voice was hoarse from not being used very often, I didn't speak to anyone much anymore.

"Just, please?"

I sighed and nodded, Zack lead me back inside his house (I had been staying with him since everyone deemed me as too unstable to take care of myself) where we sat on the couch.

"Look, s-something happened with Brendon last night." Zack stuttered, his stuttering was my cue to worry.

"W-what do you mean?" I asked shakily.

"H-he- um, he stopped breathing but they managed to control everything so now he's okay, but they don't know if he'll make it..." Zack trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut after the mention of possibly loosing Brendon.

"No... no!" I cried, standing up abruptly. I clenched my fists as a fought off tears.

"Listen," Zack stood you too, placing his hands on my shoulders. "He's okay, he'll pull through. I know he will. You have to believe a little more that he'll make it, y/n."

"I just want him here!" I sobbed, falling against Zack's chest.

"I know, we all want him here." He whispered, hugging me tightly before letting go again. "Let's go see him, yeah?"

"Yeah." I said quietly, following Zack out the door and into his car.

We didn't talk throughout the whole car ride, we didn't speak as we entered the hospital. We didn't talk as we walked into Brendon's room and sat beside his bed.

I cried silently, noticing the new things they had put in/on Brendon to keep his breathing steady. I held his hand tightly in mine, rubbing my thumb over his colder hand.

I liked to believe that Brendon was aware that I was here with him, that I was holding his hand. I liked to believe that even in his coma, he'd still be able to feel my touch and maybe even return my hold.