Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > All We Are Is Entertaniment
"Brendon, it's been a week. You have to go home and get some rest." Spencer was lecturing me. He kept on trying to get me to leave your side. He was acting like it was unhealthy to live in a hospital for a week.
"But what if he wakes up when I'm gone?"
"I'll watch him Brendon. Besides, he hasn't moved at all in the past five days, you honestly think he's going to wake up now?" Jon said gently. I stared at your perfect face, chalk white skin, the bruises healing along with the scratches, but it was still sick. So terribly sick.
"I'm not leaving his side."
"He's not going to leave Brendon. Look, Jon will hold his hand while your out. We just don't want you to get sick from being in here all day everyday." Spencer gingerly put his hand on the small of my back. It was kind of funny how they both kept saying that you weren't going to move. I had seen you move more than once, just little twitches of the finger, small frowns, little tilts of your head. I was just the only one who had seen any of them.
Spencer lead me out of the building, a mob of people swarming around us. They all had their different reasons for being there, most of them looking like fans or reporters. It was the first time I had actually thought about all of it. They would have so many questions; What happened to the tour? What were we going to do now? Who was it that I was visiting? When would we pick up with the tour? Would the band keep going?
Spencer opened the passenger door for me to get in. I shrunk in the seat, wishing everyone would go away. Spencer was trying to be polite, but I could see that he was already stressed to an extreme. All he wanted to do was get me away from the prying eyes of the public. He got in the driver side, turning the car on.
"One of the nurses recognized you and decided to tell all her friends. From there everything just got out of hand." Spencer said as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "They've promised to not say anything about it. Who your visiting and why, but it's still big news to some people." There was a silence, something dense yet comfortable.
"What have you told them so far? I mean, people rarely take an interest into small bands like us." Spencer sighed.
"I told them that you would talk when you wanted to, but at the moment neither of us are going to answer anything." I nodded, looking out the window. He pulled up to a hotel, being to far away from home to have all of the comforts of it. "This is where Jon and I have been staying. It's a small room, but it's not completely cheap." I nodded and we got out of the car. I was told to take a shower and get dressed while Spencer went out for food. I was completely finished before he got back and couldn't help but be curious.
I left the small hotel, slowly moving about the streets of the unfamiliar city. There was a large church at the end of the street, going into the sky just like the skyscrapers around it. There was a slight irony to it, something bitter. Religion never was one to listen to logic, and the voice of logic seemed to have left me years ago. I made my way up the steps, looking at every detail. Everything after that felt like a dream, a silent pulse that pushed me through the halls of the small building. There were pictures, names, chairs, benches, everything you would expect a church to have. With the exception of people.
After wandering around for who knows how long I was stopped by who I'm assuming to be the priest of the local church. He asked me if I was okay, if I was lost or needed money. I simply asked for the day before walking out. I made my way back to the hotel, immediately getting a lecture from Spencer who was sitting in the lobby with a worried expression.
I begged him to take me back to the hospital, making him look even more concerned than he had. He agreed, forcing me to eat in the car on the way there. The food made me sick, but I decided it would be worth it to make him happy. He parked, and we both got out. The little press that seemed to want to attack us decided it was time to make an ambush. Spencer forced me through them as quickly as he could, pulling me into the hospital.
There wasn't anything that I could remember about the walk to the elevator. I just stared at the ground as Spencer lead me to it. His hand was latched onto mine, something I didn't notice until he squeezed it. He was trying to comfort me, he honestly was.
"Do you think he's woken up?" I asked hopefully. Spencer sighed, hugging me as we waited for the elevator to take us to the proper floor.
"No. Brendon, if he had, Jon would have called and told us." I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding onto him the way a crying child would their mother after a bad dream. I closed my eyes, strangled sobs escaping my chapped lips. I didn't care how much of a wreck I looked to other people. That seemed to be the last thing on any of our minds. The door opened, but we stayed still.Spencer dug around in his pockets for a few minutes before producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He handed one to me, lighting it before lighting one for himself.
"We'll get through it Brendon." We both smoked the cancer sticks, sitting on the floor of the elevator in silence as both of our minds raced. Eventually we left, Spencer leading me down the hall to the room you were sleeping behind. He opened the door and I looked down at my feet, feeling sick once more. I didn't want to see your face, not again. Spencer took my hand.
"You know, it's not the same when I hold his hand as when you hold his hand." Jon said as he looked over at me. I nodded once.
"Has he moved?" I looked at Jon's face, and gave a sigh. "Right." I walked over to him, sitting next to you. He let go of your hand and I picked it up. The surface was warm, but I knew that if Jon hadn't been latched onto it that it would have been cold. I could hear Jon and Spencer talking before leaving me alone with you once again. I take a chance and look up at your damaged pale face.
There were so many bruises and cuts from your relapse, but that wasn't the thing that bothered me most. It was the fact that you had made them all with your own fingers that made me sick. I knew that some of the cuts that you had made with your own fingernails were going to scar, the chunks out of your flesh permanently gone. I sighed, resting my head next to yours. At least some of them had gotten better. I could only hope that you would do the same.
~~~~~
Pretty much from here on out all of the chapters will be based off of a Death Cab For Cutie song. This one's just the first of many to come.
AnotherKnifeInMyHand:No. If it were to end perfect and fluffy they wouldn't be stuck in the hospital. But, ya know, it's good to take a break from happy endings. Because they only happen so often in real life.
reinventlove152:That many pieces? Wow. I'm impressed with myself. And yeah, I know what ya mean. There can only be so much fluff in the world when you get tired of it.
-xoxo Pansy.
"But what if he wakes up when I'm gone?"
"I'll watch him Brendon. Besides, he hasn't moved at all in the past five days, you honestly think he's going to wake up now?" Jon said gently. I stared at your perfect face, chalk white skin, the bruises healing along with the scratches, but it was still sick. So terribly sick.
"I'm not leaving his side."
"He's not going to leave Brendon. Look, Jon will hold his hand while your out. We just don't want you to get sick from being in here all day everyday." Spencer gingerly put his hand on the small of my back. It was kind of funny how they both kept saying that you weren't going to move. I had seen you move more than once, just little twitches of the finger, small frowns, little tilts of your head. I was just the only one who had seen any of them.
Spencer lead me out of the building, a mob of people swarming around us. They all had their different reasons for being there, most of them looking like fans or reporters. It was the first time I had actually thought about all of it. They would have so many questions; What happened to the tour? What were we going to do now? Who was it that I was visiting? When would we pick up with the tour? Would the band keep going?
Spencer opened the passenger door for me to get in. I shrunk in the seat, wishing everyone would go away. Spencer was trying to be polite, but I could see that he was already stressed to an extreme. All he wanted to do was get me away from the prying eyes of the public. He got in the driver side, turning the car on.
"One of the nurses recognized you and decided to tell all her friends. From there everything just got out of hand." Spencer said as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "They've promised to not say anything about it. Who your visiting and why, but it's still big news to some people." There was a silence, something dense yet comfortable.
"What have you told them so far? I mean, people rarely take an interest into small bands like us." Spencer sighed.
"I told them that you would talk when you wanted to, but at the moment neither of us are going to answer anything." I nodded, looking out the window. He pulled up to a hotel, being to far away from home to have all of the comforts of it. "This is where Jon and I have been staying. It's a small room, but it's not completely cheap." I nodded and we got out of the car. I was told to take a shower and get dressed while Spencer went out for food. I was completely finished before he got back and couldn't help but be curious.
I left the small hotel, slowly moving about the streets of the unfamiliar city. There was a large church at the end of the street, going into the sky just like the skyscrapers around it. There was a slight irony to it, something bitter. Religion never was one to listen to logic, and the voice of logic seemed to have left me years ago. I made my way up the steps, looking at every detail. Everything after that felt like a dream, a silent pulse that pushed me through the halls of the small building. There were pictures, names, chairs, benches, everything you would expect a church to have. With the exception of people.
After wandering around for who knows how long I was stopped by who I'm assuming to be the priest of the local church. He asked me if I was okay, if I was lost or needed money. I simply asked for the day before walking out. I made my way back to the hotel, immediately getting a lecture from Spencer who was sitting in the lobby with a worried expression.
I begged him to take me back to the hospital, making him look even more concerned than he had. He agreed, forcing me to eat in the car on the way there. The food made me sick, but I decided it would be worth it to make him happy. He parked, and we both got out. The little press that seemed to want to attack us decided it was time to make an ambush. Spencer forced me through them as quickly as he could, pulling me into the hospital.
There wasn't anything that I could remember about the walk to the elevator. I just stared at the ground as Spencer lead me to it. His hand was latched onto mine, something I didn't notice until he squeezed it. He was trying to comfort me, he honestly was.
"Do you think he's woken up?" I asked hopefully. Spencer sighed, hugging me as we waited for the elevator to take us to the proper floor.
"No. Brendon, if he had, Jon would have called and told us." I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding onto him the way a crying child would their mother after a bad dream. I closed my eyes, strangled sobs escaping my chapped lips. I didn't care how much of a wreck I looked to other people. That seemed to be the last thing on any of our minds. The door opened, but we stayed still.Spencer dug around in his pockets for a few minutes before producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He handed one to me, lighting it before lighting one for himself.
"We'll get through it Brendon." We both smoked the cancer sticks, sitting on the floor of the elevator in silence as both of our minds raced. Eventually we left, Spencer leading me down the hall to the room you were sleeping behind. He opened the door and I looked down at my feet, feeling sick once more. I didn't want to see your face, not again. Spencer took my hand.
"You know, it's not the same when I hold his hand as when you hold his hand." Jon said as he looked over at me. I nodded once.
"Has he moved?" I looked at Jon's face, and gave a sigh. "Right." I walked over to him, sitting next to you. He let go of your hand and I picked it up. The surface was warm, but I knew that if Jon hadn't been latched onto it that it would have been cold. I could hear Jon and Spencer talking before leaving me alone with you once again. I take a chance and look up at your damaged pale face.
There were so many bruises and cuts from your relapse, but that wasn't the thing that bothered me most. It was the fact that you had made them all with your own fingers that made me sick. I knew that some of the cuts that you had made with your own fingernails were going to scar, the chunks out of your flesh permanently gone. I sighed, resting my head next to yours. At least some of them had gotten better. I could only hope that you would do the same.
~~~~~
Pretty much from here on out all of the chapters will be based off of a Death Cab For Cutie song. This one's just the first of many to come.
AnotherKnifeInMyHand:No. If it were to end perfect and fluffy they wouldn't be stuck in the hospital. But, ya know, it's good to take a break from happy endings. Because they only happen so often in real life.
reinventlove152:That many pieces? Wow. I'm impressed with myself. And yeah, I know what ya mean. There can only be so much fluff in the world when you get tired of it.
-xoxo Pansy.
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