Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Why Can't You See How Much I Love You?

Untitled

by Geets 9 Reviews

Sorry, not today!

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Drama, Humor - Characters:  - Published: 2007/06/26 - Updated: 2007/06/26 - 2574 words

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Ok, before I get into the story, I am so sorry about not updating, but honestly, I've had a few personal things going on and a ton of exams and crap :(

But, I really have to thank EVERY SINGLE PERSON who has ever reviewed this story. And to make you all feel that much more special, I want to thank: Rgiddles, Gangsta Girl, Meeniemoe, Fabnosity, xCamisadox, Purple Light Bulbs, rainbowsprinkles08, Rebecca at the Disco, xxLaurenxx, Rori795, mysteriouswonder_848, panic fan, McKenna, blueside21, sillyperson. There you go! And everyone who reviewed the prequel! Smile, you should be happy :D

Anyways, I hope you like this, and please review, because I really want to know what you think of it!


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Now water was flooding from my eyes as my mom came to sit next to me on the bed, wrapping an arm around me protectively. We didn't say a thing. It was so comforting to have her there with me, holding me. I felt like I was 10 years old again; so fragile and dependant on her.

I shifted slowly and got up, saying, "I need to get my stuff together. Would you help me?"

"Of course sweetie. I'll take you to the airport too. I would come, but I can't really leave my work."

"Thankyou, so much," I told her sincerely. I hadn't really unpacked any of my things, so all I had to do was chuck my brush and accessories into the suitcase with some random clothes I saw which I liked. It was so dark outside; well, that's what happens at... 12 o' clock at night.

After we had both closed the suitcase and heaved it downstairs, I had an extreme sense of déjà vu, and we set off in the car. The journey was silent, but I felt as if there was no need to say anything at all. Somehow, I knew that my mom could read how I was feeling from the way I was acting, or that mother-daughter connection. She simply put the radio on. Old, love songs were playing softly. I couldn't help but to let myself sob silently as I listened; all I could think about was whether Brendon was actually going to be ok. Nothing else.

We reached the airport and I practically ran to the front desk, anxious to get a flight. But, of course, there was a queue. For god's sakes, move! Does no one know that the love of my life is dying?! I stood tapping my foot impatiently on the white floor, until finally I got to the front, my mom right behind me.

"One ticket to Las Vegas please. As soon as you can," I sighed hurriedly. I looked back at my mom for some reassurance, and she smiled warmly, as usual.

"Just one moment please..." she trailed off, rapping briskly on her keyboard. "Ah, we have a first class seat leaving in 25 minutes, but no economy."

This time my mom interjected, "We'll take it." Her eyes remained fixed forwards as she paid the money and handed my case over to the woman. I felt a new wave of emotions. I'm an emotional goddamn wreck! Why can't I stop crying?!

"Here's your ticket," the woman said, having printed the appropriate ticket, after a long wait.

"Thankyou." My mom took the ticket and walked into more space, out of others' way. "So, here's the ticket and your passport. Oh, and take some money and my credit card, just in case. You know my PIN number, right?"

"Yeah..." I responded shakily. My breath was still uneven. Reaching into her bag, my mom got out her purse. "Thankyou... for everything,"

"Hey, it's ok. I'm your mother and I love you. I know how much this, he, means to you. And you need to be there with him. If I can, I may try to fly up next weekend, and I'll phone regularly. Brendon was a nice guy; I liked him. Of all the older rock stars you could date, I guess he's the best." I smiled feebly. "But please, please, tell me that you used protection," she almost begged.

"Yes, we did, don't worry," I assured her, still smiling.

Now it was her turn to smile. "Alright, we'd better get going if you're going to catch this flight!"

"Oh, and I need to phone Ryan!" I remembered stupidly.

"Don't worry, I can do that. Have you got his number?" I gave her the number and then she started leading me towards the departure lounge as I trundled my bag behind me, feeling more relaxed and safe.

Once we reached the metal detectors, we sadly said our goodbyes and I continued quickly, conscious of the annoying woman on the loud speaker calling my flight. Marching as quickly as I could, I finally reached my gate. I was anxious to get to my flight and to get to Brendon. The staff checking boarding passes gave me a dirty look, because I was a 16-year-old going into first class when I should've boarded roughly half an hour ago. Yeah... Well, get lost, as far as I'm concerned.

Sitting in the large, sofa-like seat failed to comfort me as the only thing on my mind was Brendon. I had no idea how he even got into a car accident, I didn't know where he was, I didn't know how badly injured he was; hell, I don't even know if he'll live! Weird glances were shot in my direction as I cried, violently sobbing and hyperventilating. I can't believe that Brendon is in the situation because of me It doesn't even bear thinking about...

I tried sleeping, but I just couldn't relax; it felt as if my brain was going to swell up. Every time I thought about how much fun I had had with Brendon over the past couple of weeks - how close we were and how great we were together - I thought about where he was now; it made me so scared and troubled. The worst part of it? It wasn't a dream. It wasn't going to go away. I was stuck in this depressive mood, and there was no limit as to how long I would feel this way: sickly in love with Brendon Urie. That terrified me.

---------------------------

I have no idea how long I spent on that plane, surrounded by nothing but my horrible thoughts and images, but eventually I descended the steps into a dull, cloudy day in Las Vegas. It hardly ever rained there, if it ever did; it reflected my emotions well. I trudged along, walking extremely slowly. Each step I took caused me great pain, emotionally and physically.

However, I saw Ryan waiting in the arrivals area for me, his pale, artless face hidden behind his cute, signature flat cap. If he was pleased to see me, he didn't show it: he couldn't. It was then that I realised I was no longer alone in my head, or these feelings.

We hugged briefly. "Hey," Ryan said softly.

"Hi... How is he?" I asked cautiously. We both began to walk towards Ryan's car.

"Honestly? Not so good actually..." The words he spoke, no matter how sympathetic or kind they were, ripped straight through me. I had wished more than anything that he was going to be alright. "He's in the hospital... private. He went into surgery a couple of hours ago... He suffered injuries to his head and chest..." I listened intently to what he said: he was answering every question I had asked myself continuously on the way there. "His airbag didn't work in time... We were all following..."

"What? You followed him where?" Ryan had stopped, as if he was afraid to continue, but he had only made me more confused and curious.

Sighing, he continued: "Brendon... he came home and dropped off his bag. We all saw him, but he left with my car. He was speeding... It was scary really, to watch him..."

"Wait, he was driving your car?" We came to a car, and after we got in, he started the engine. It was Brendon's car, and it even smelt of him, so I inhaled the scent deeply. My nose tingled. A strange feeling came over me: something I couldn't explain.

"Yeah... I still don't know what happened between the two of you, but all I know is that I don't think he was driving so dangerously out of anger... I rang him while he was driving. He seemed crazy. I think he was simply... upset and annoyed at /himself/, for whatever he did..." Ryan stopped again, allowing me time to let the past events soak in. "Please, tell me what happened," he almost begged.

I coughed, clearing my throat and giving myself more time, before finally speaking. "I have this guy friend, who I'm kind of close to. Basically, I guess Brendon got a bit jealous... I danced with Ben at a party we had, then a couple of days later, he phones me asking if I can meet him because he was having some family problems. Brendon and I... got in a fight, and he left without me realising... Then I got in a fight with my mom and... yeah. After that, you phoned."

Eyes focused on the road, Ryan nodded, formulating a response. "Brendon's always had a slight jealousy issue. You just have to work it out with him, because he has a good heart."

Words were choked inside my throat, because I was crying. I missed him so, so much. I know he has a good heart... He's amazing. Instead of replying, I nodded, dabbing my eyes dry.

The remainder of the journey was silent, but it wasn't long: within 10 more minutes, he had pulled up to the hospital and parked his car. When walking into the building, we walked side by side; he squeezed my hand gently, smiling reassuringly. We had reached the reception desk, where Ryan requested for him and 'Brendon Urie's girlfriend' to watch the surgery with Spencer and Jon. After slipping a surgeons gown on top, we met with the other two.

Running up to them, I hugged each of the tightly, yet again crying. Then I finally risked a look through the window, seeing Brendon on the table. The sight was horrific. I began crying hysterically, violently, and deafeningly. Retching, I stepped forwards towards the glass, gently laying my hands on the pane, taking the whole sight in. Brendon's ghost-like chest was cut open, with assistants moving around the table and two surgeons making the various incisions. Blood covered his forehead.

The boys all came over to try and comfort me, and although their presence was soothing, nothing could take away the pain that I felt. Love is a powerful emotion; in my opinion, it dominates everything else. It makes people do the craziest things...

"Brendon's been in there for about 2 1/2 hours. They're still working on his chest," Jon explained for us nervously. "When he crashed, his head hit the windscreen and his chest hit the wheel with a lot of force... It was only after that the airbag inflated. It just happened so quickly..." I nodded in a sign of recognition, keeping my eyes fixed on the man lying unconscious in the next room. My man...

"They were doing some tests and scans before, just to look at the damage. He has been pretty stable so far, so they think he should be ok... The surgery isn't too difficult," Spencer told me.

"Thank God..." I whispered, a little relieved that the surgeons think he would make, even though it was hard to believe seeing him in that state. He can't die...

About half an hour later, not much had changed in Brendon's condition and the surgeons were still operating on his chest injuries. I was a mess, worried and distressed, clinging onto a hope that everything would go well. I was even getting frustrated, purely because I had no way of telling how the surgery was going.

"What's going on?" I whispered hoarsely. We had all remained silent since Ryan and I arrived; we were all too preoccupied, although I wondered whether their girlfriends knew. But they have been here for almost 15 hours... Surely the guys would have told them.

"I don't know," Spencer muttered in reply after a short delay. I wasn't a religious person, but I kept praying, to anyone, for his life. If he dies, I could never forgive myself. I would lose the person I love more than anyone I have ever loved before.

"I didn't even get to tell him that I love him," I realised, speaking mostly to myself.

"I'm sure he knows that," Ryan said, stroking my arm supportively. I returned his gesture with a crack of a smile.

"Except that the last time we talked, we were arguing..."

"I know that he loves you. No matter what happens, do not forget that." Ryan's speech made those tears I was fighting back to flow freely. I just needed to have him back in my arms.

Suddenly, as if planned by the vile hands of fate, Brendon's heart rate began to rapidly slow down; the surgeons were panicking, scuffling around eachother; my breathing stopped, and I stood frozen, swaying, until I gasped for air; Ryan, Jon and Spence all shifted and edged forwards, eyes widened. The tension was immense. The beep of his vital signs was getting slower, or perhaps that was just me? I could see lips moving, but I couldn't hear a noise: my heart was pounding far too loudly in my head for me to hear. We watched attentively, traumatized. Retrieving the crash trolley, the assistants prepared the defibrillators as I remained transfixed on Brendon and the heart monitor. His blood pressure was dropping as well. Since I had started weeping, it was becoming difficult to see anything, but I still felt Ryan and Jon's hands slip around mine. I wanted to squeeze so hard, to release my sadness, but I was just too weak. No... This cannot happen... He cannot die...

Before those stupid surgeons had even got round to shocking Brendon's heart, a deafening, earpiercing, beeping drone drummed into my ears. I refused to believe my instincts in my shaken state; I dried my eyes and looked back as hard as I could. A simple flat line ran across the screen. My cheap attempts at breathing became short and shallow. I wailed so noisily, covering my mouth in horror. My brain couldn't process the information, and I let out random cries of denial, but time slipped through me while I continued to stare. Becoming uncontrollable, the surgeons began pumping on Brendon's heart, performing mouth to mouth resuscitation.

We all watched minutes of this torture, but it seemed like much longer, as the reality started to sink in. Ryan wrapped his arms tightly around me, and I clung to him more forcefully than ever; Jon and Spence embraced as well. Sobbing into his shoulder, I just could not bear to watch any longer. I couldn't hear anything, or see: I felt as if I was either going to faint or vomit. Each of them were in the same state as me: their best friend died in front of them.

I just watched Brendon die...

Brendon's dead...

He's gone...


I'll be there when your heart stops beating
I'll be there when your last breath's taken away


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(+44 - When Your Heart Stops Beating)
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