Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > This Doesn't Hurt
2. Who Cares? Divine Intervention
5 reviews"Spence... I need you to take me to the hospital."
1Exciting
Chapter Two - Who Cares? Divine Intervention
“I just don’t understand, Matt.” I said, dropping my keys into the dish by the door.
“You don’t have to understand.” Matt said, flinging his jacket onto the coat rack, and brushing past me.
I removed my hoodie, and hung it next to Matt’s jacket. I moved a little ways down the hall to the mirror. I carefully adjusted my hair, and tried to fix my smudged eyeliner.
The bruises of previous months had disappeared. It had been weeks since Matt had hit me, and Spencer had stopped scanning my skin for bruises and cuts, demanding to know the origin if he found one.
I followed Matt to the kitchen, where he had opened a beer, and was going through the mail on the counter.
“Please, try to explain what you mean.” I said, crossing my arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“I just don’t like it when you act like that in public.” Matt said, without looking up.
“Why?” I asked, still confused.
Matt slammed his bottle down, and turned to face me.
“Do you think I like being called a fag? Do you think the looks that people give us make me happy?” Matt demanded.
“I think that you shouldn’t care!” I said. “I love you, Matt, and I’m not scared to show it! I can’t comprehend why you’re so ashamed of who you are.”
I turned, and walked back to the living room, shoving my hands deep into my pockets, sighing angrily.
Quite suddenly, I felt a heavy blow to the back of my head, and I fell forward, onto my hands and knees. Eyes watering, I blinked up at Matt, who was shaking with anger.
“Do you think you have any fucking right to tell me who I am?!” Matt roared, and I flinched away from the sound. Matt caught my ribs with a kick, and I coughed, winded. I curled my arm around my middle, trying to breathe.
Matt knelt next to me, and gently lifted me onto the couch. Confused, I went willingly.
“I’m so sorry, Ry.” He whispered.
I blinked up at his sincere face, my vision still blurry from the blow to the back of my head.
“I just don’t like being judged.” He whispered, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I love you, Ry. You know that.”
“I love you, too, Matt.” I whispered.
He folded me into his arms and held me for a few minutes, then went to go take a shower. I tried to stand up, but gasped in pain as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I fell back onto the couch. I lifted my shirt, and saw a huge bruise blossoming over my stomach. It was darker and swollen over my ribs, and I brushed my fingers across it lightly, causing another wave of pain.
I tried to stand again, more slowly, but my head spun, and I sank back onto the couch. My eyelids drooped, and I was suddenly very tired.
Matt emerged from the bathroom, and walked over to me.
“I have to run a couple errands, baby. I’ll be back soon, okay?” He said. I nodded, and he kissed me, then left.
My vision was blurry. My head was spinning.
I need to go to the hospital.
I patted my pockets, and retrieved my cell phone. I hit 7, then put it to my ear, silently high-fiving myself for putting Spencer on my speed dial.
“Hello?” He answered on the third ring.
“Spence… I need you to take me to the hospital.” My voice broke, and tears spilled over my eyelids.
“What happened?” He asked, and I heard his keys jingling.
“Matt, he…” I broke off, curling my arm around my ribs.
“I’m on my way, Ry.” He said. “What did Matt do?”
“He… he…”
“Where did he hit you?”
“My ribs… my head…” I sobbed.
“Shit, Ry. Stay on the phone with me, okay? Bren!” He yelled the last word away from the phone. “Bren, call Jon!”
I heard Brendon’s voice faintly, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying.
“We’ll be there soon, Ry, okay?” Spencer said, sounding frantic.
“Ok-k-kay.” I sobbed.
“Don’t hang up.” Spencer said again.
“I won’t.” I promised, clenching the phone tightly.
Ten minutes later, Spencer burst through the front door, and ran over to me.
“Ry!”
“Spence.” My voice broke, tears still rolling down my face.
Brendon, Jon, and Pete followed Spencer in.
“What do we do?” Brendon asked, looking terrified.
Spencer turned, and walked over to the group. He whispered to them for a minute, then they all turned back to look at me.
“Where are your shoes, Ry?” Pete asked.
“By the coat rack.” I whispered. Pete disappeared, then came back, shoes and hoodie in hand.
“How long until Matt gets back?” Jon asked, looking into the kitchen.
“I don’t know.” I said, trying to catch my breath as Pete kneeled in front of me and guided my feet into the purple converse. “He said he’d be back soon.”
Brendon got my hoodie onto me, and once my shoes were tied, Brendon and Pete each wrapped an arm around my back, took one of my hands, and helped me to my feet. They guided me out of the door, and over to Pete’s car. Brendon climbed into the backseat with me, and Pete got in the drivers seat.
I settled into Brendon’s arms, and my eyes slipped shut.
“Don’t sleep.” Brendon whispered, stroking my hair out of my eyes.
To keep my eyes open, I concentrated on Brendon’s face. The way the street lamps we were moving past changed the lines on his face, the way he bit his lip and stared out the window, gnawing on his thumbnail. He was… beautiful.
I bit my lip, and looked away from him, out the front window. Pete was pulling into the driveway of the hospital, and he stopped in front of the doors to the ER.
“I’ll come inside in a few minutes.” Pete said.
Brendon helped me out of the backseat, and supported most of my weight as we walked through the doors. Brendon sat me in a chair, and went up to the counter to get the forms we had to fill out.
I looked around at the other people in the waiting room. One woman was on the phone, sobbing hysterically. There was a little girl in what looked like a bridesmaid or flower girl dress, whose arm was swollen, purple, and being held at an odd angle. A little boy was crying and holding his stomach. A pregnant girl, who looked like she was only 14 or 15, kept gripping her stomach and bending forward, exclaiming in pain. There was a boy on one side of her, about her age, who rubbed her back nervously every time this happened. An older woman, presumably the girls mother, sat on the other side of the girl, shooting her looks of disgust every few minutes.
Brendon came and sat next to me, and started filling out the paperwork. After a few minutes, Pete strolled in, glanced around, then came over and sat on the other side of me from Brendon.
Pete tapped his fingers nervously against his knee, which was showing through his ripped skinny jeans. He was biting his lip, his gaze shifting anxiously around the room.
I watched as the little girl with the broken arm got led through the double doors, and into an examination room, and shuddered as I realized they’d probably have to re-break her arm to get it to set right.
They had to bring out a wheelchair for the pregnant teenage girl, since she couldn’t stand without doubling over in pain. The boy looked like he was about to cry, but her mother didn’t even go back through the double doors with them.
Finally, a nurse in lilac scrubs opened one of the double doors, and called, “George Ross?”
Brendon stood, and wrapped his arm around my back, gently helping me to my feet. Pete trailed behind us as we walked over to the nurse.
She stepped back, and allowed Brendon to help me through the door. She led us down the hall and into a small, white room. She gestured for me to sit on the blue cushioned table that was covered with white paper.
I gasped as Brendon helped me onto it, and I laid back, wincing.
The nurse asked a bunch of questions that Brendon answered. I tuned them out, closing my eyes.
“Ry!” Brendon said, shaking my shoulders.
My eyes shot open. I tried to blink the haziness from my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
“You fell asleep.” Brendon sighed. “You can’t sleep yet, Ry-Ry.”
“Why?” I asked groggily, not sure if I was asking why I couldn’t sleep or why he just called me Ry-Ry.
“Because you might have a concussion.” Brendon said. “You can’t sleep until they know.”
I tried to sit up, but I gasped in pain from my ribs, falling back against the bed.
Wait. Bed?
“Did they move me?” I asked, looking around the room.
“Yeah.” Brendon said. “They just brought you back from doing x-rays.”
“Whoa… how long has it been since we were in that first room?” I glanced around. “Where’s Pete?”
“It’s only been about half an hour.” Brendon said. His hand was trailing lightly up and down the bars of the bed. “Pete left. To go help Jon and Spencer.”
“What are Jon and Spencer doing?” I asked.
“They’re packing your stuff.” Brendon said. His hand clenched around the rail next to the bed, his whole arm shaking. He exhaled forcefully from his nose, and bit his lip, looking away from me, glaring at the floor.
“Brendon?” I whispered. I moved my hand to set it on top of his, but he flinched away.
After a moment of awkward silence, he looked back up at me. He looked so sad, and I felt an ache in my chest and pressure behind my eyes.
“Ryan… why--”
Brendon was cut off by a doctor entering the room.
“Well, Mr. Ross…” He said, looking down at the folder in his hands. “The good news is, you have no lasting head injuries. The bad news is, for tonight, you need to be woken up every hour, as you do have a minor concussion. More good news: Your ribs are fractured, not broken. More bad news: 6 of them are injured.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t as bad as I expected.
“There’s no internal bleeding or anything?” Brendon asked the doctor, looking hopeful.
“No signs of internal injury.” The doctor said, looking back down at the folder. “If you have any concerns, by all means, come back and have someone look at it.” The doctor closed his folder, and looked back up at the two of us. “A nurse will be coming to wrap your ribs in a few minutes. You’ll need to stay here tonight, but you can go home tomorrow morning.”
“Can Brendon stay with me?” I asked, my hand drifting automatically back towards Brendon’s. He gripped it back this time, instead of flinching away.
“Yes.” The doctor said hesitantly. “It won’t be comfortable, but he can stay.”
“Some of our friends want to come see him this evening. Is that possible?” Brendon asked the doctor.
“Visiting hours end at 10:30pm on Friday nights.” The doctor said, glancing at his watch. “I imagine they can at least come in a say hi.”
The doctor left.
“What time is it?” I asked Brendon.
“9:30.” He responded. “Ryan, why didn’t you tell anyone that Matt was doing this to you?” Brendon looked into my eyes desperately, and I felt my eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t know.” I whispered, blinking rapidly, causing the tears to spill down my cheeks.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry.” Brendon moved so he was sitting on the bed next to me, and he cupped my face in his large hands, wiping tears from under my eyes.
“I was embarrassed.” I whispered. “And scared. I deserved it…”
“Ryan.” Brendon said harshly, and I blinked up at him, surprised. “You didn’t deserve it. Don’t ever fucking tell yourself that, okay?”
“Okay.” I nodded, though I didn’t believe him.
Brendon moved off the bed, and sat in the chair again. He pulled his sidekick from his pocket, and looked at the screen. He made a disgusted face, then typed something.
A nurse came in a few minutes later, carrying a tray. She smiled sympathetically when she looked at my tear stained face and puffy eyes.
She moved over next to the bed, and helped me into a sitting position. I lifted my shirt over my head, and she started wrapping ace bandages around my chest.
“I’ll come in to wake you every hour.” The nurse said as she wrapped. “You need to put ice on this to keep the swelling down every two hours, so I’ll bring that for you. I’ll check the wrapping for you every three hours, to make sure it’s not too tight or too loose, but tell me if you want me to check it at any particular time.”
She finished wrapping all the way down my stomach, and I pulled my shirt back on. The pain was lessened now, and she handed me an ice pack that I laid across my ribs.
“I’ll make sure that the doctor gets you a prescription for pain medication before you leave tomorrow.” She said, and she left.
Me and Brendon were silent. I was pretty much staring at him, but he wouldn’t look at my face. His eyes shifted from the bottom corner of the curtain that could be pulled to cover the glass door, to the blank TV screen, to his knee, then he started doing something on his sidekick again.
A few minutes later, Jon and Spencer came through the door.
“We got all your stuff out.” Spencer said. “It’s all still in Jon’s truck, cause we weren’t sure where you’d want to stay.”
“He can stay with me.” Brendon said quietly, still not looking at me.
“Where’s Pete?” Jon asked, looking around as though Pete was hiding somewhere in the room.
“He had something he needed to do, but he’ll be here soon.” Brendon said.
“I thought you said Pete was helping them?” I said to Brendon. His eyes flashed up to mine, and I flinched away from his intense stare.
“He was.” Brendon looked away again. I was confused, but I didn’t press the subject. I’d always thought Brendon was kind of scary when he was mad.
Pete came in a few minutes later. Maybe it was my imagination, or the morphine, but it looked like he was walking strangely. He winced as he lowered himself into a chair, leaning back and crossing legs.
A/N: Hey guys! So, I pulled an all-nighter, and spent some time working on this, so I decided to go ahead and upload the next chapter. Thanks to those who reviewed, you all made me smile!
xxAnna
“I just don’t understand, Matt.” I said, dropping my keys into the dish by the door.
“You don’t have to understand.” Matt said, flinging his jacket onto the coat rack, and brushing past me.
I removed my hoodie, and hung it next to Matt’s jacket. I moved a little ways down the hall to the mirror. I carefully adjusted my hair, and tried to fix my smudged eyeliner.
The bruises of previous months had disappeared. It had been weeks since Matt had hit me, and Spencer had stopped scanning my skin for bruises and cuts, demanding to know the origin if he found one.
I followed Matt to the kitchen, where he had opened a beer, and was going through the mail on the counter.
“Please, try to explain what you mean.” I said, crossing my arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“I just don’t like it when you act like that in public.” Matt said, without looking up.
“Why?” I asked, still confused.
Matt slammed his bottle down, and turned to face me.
“Do you think I like being called a fag? Do you think the looks that people give us make me happy?” Matt demanded.
“I think that you shouldn’t care!” I said. “I love you, Matt, and I’m not scared to show it! I can’t comprehend why you’re so ashamed of who you are.”
I turned, and walked back to the living room, shoving my hands deep into my pockets, sighing angrily.
Quite suddenly, I felt a heavy blow to the back of my head, and I fell forward, onto my hands and knees. Eyes watering, I blinked up at Matt, who was shaking with anger.
“Do you think you have any fucking right to tell me who I am?!” Matt roared, and I flinched away from the sound. Matt caught my ribs with a kick, and I coughed, winded. I curled my arm around my middle, trying to breathe.
Matt knelt next to me, and gently lifted me onto the couch. Confused, I went willingly.
“I’m so sorry, Ry.” He whispered.
I blinked up at his sincere face, my vision still blurry from the blow to the back of my head.
“I just don’t like being judged.” He whispered, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I love you, Ry. You know that.”
“I love you, too, Matt.” I whispered.
He folded me into his arms and held me for a few minutes, then went to go take a shower. I tried to stand up, but gasped in pain as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I fell back onto the couch. I lifted my shirt, and saw a huge bruise blossoming over my stomach. It was darker and swollen over my ribs, and I brushed my fingers across it lightly, causing another wave of pain.
I tried to stand again, more slowly, but my head spun, and I sank back onto the couch. My eyelids drooped, and I was suddenly very tired.
Matt emerged from the bathroom, and walked over to me.
“I have to run a couple errands, baby. I’ll be back soon, okay?” He said. I nodded, and he kissed me, then left.
My vision was blurry. My head was spinning.
I need to go to the hospital.
I patted my pockets, and retrieved my cell phone. I hit 7, then put it to my ear, silently high-fiving myself for putting Spencer on my speed dial.
“Hello?” He answered on the third ring.
“Spence… I need you to take me to the hospital.” My voice broke, and tears spilled over my eyelids.
“What happened?” He asked, and I heard his keys jingling.
“Matt, he…” I broke off, curling my arm around my ribs.
“I’m on my way, Ry.” He said. “What did Matt do?”
“He… he…”
“Where did he hit you?”
“My ribs… my head…” I sobbed.
“Shit, Ry. Stay on the phone with me, okay? Bren!” He yelled the last word away from the phone. “Bren, call Jon!”
I heard Brendon’s voice faintly, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying.
“We’ll be there soon, Ry, okay?” Spencer said, sounding frantic.
“Ok-k-kay.” I sobbed.
“Don’t hang up.” Spencer said again.
“I won’t.” I promised, clenching the phone tightly.
Ten minutes later, Spencer burst through the front door, and ran over to me.
“Ry!”
“Spence.” My voice broke, tears still rolling down my face.
Brendon, Jon, and Pete followed Spencer in.
“What do we do?” Brendon asked, looking terrified.
Spencer turned, and walked over to the group. He whispered to them for a minute, then they all turned back to look at me.
“Where are your shoes, Ry?” Pete asked.
“By the coat rack.” I whispered. Pete disappeared, then came back, shoes and hoodie in hand.
“How long until Matt gets back?” Jon asked, looking into the kitchen.
“I don’t know.” I said, trying to catch my breath as Pete kneeled in front of me and guided my feet into the purple converse. “He said he’d be back soon.”
Brendon got my hoodie onto me, and once my shoes were tied, Brendon and Pete each wrapped an arm around my back, took one of my hands, and helped me to my feet. They guided me out of the door, and over to Pete’s car. Brendon climbed into the backseat with me, and Pete got in the drivers seat.
I settled into Brendon’s arms, and my eyes slipped shut.
“Don’t sleep.” Brendon whispered, stroking my hair out of my eyes.
To keep my eyes open, I concentrated on Brendon’s face. The way the street lamps we were moving past changed the lines on his face, the way he bit his lip and stared out the window, gnawing on his thumbnail. He was… beautiful.
I bit my lip, and looked away from him, out the front window. Pete was pulling into the driveway of the hospital, and he stopped in front of the doors to the ER.
“I’ll come inside in a few minutes.” Pete said.
Brendon helped me out of the backseat, and supported most of my weight as we walked through the doors. Brendon sat me in a chair, and went up to the counter to get the forms we had to fill out.
I looked around at the other people in the waiting room. One woman was on the phone, sobbing hysterically. There was a little girl in what looked like a bridesmaid or flower girl dress, whose arm was swollen, purple, and being held at an odd angle. A little boy was crying and holding his stomach. A pregnant girl, who looked like she was only 14 or 15, kept gripping her stomach and bending forward, exclaiming in pain. There was a boy on one side of her, about her age, who rubbed her back nervously every time this happened. An older woman, presumably the girls mother, sat on the other side of the girl, shooting her looks of disgust every few minutes.
Brendon came and sat next to me, and started filling out the paperwork. After a few minutes, Pete strolled in, glanced around, then came over and sat on the other side of me from Brendon.
Pete tapped his fingers nervously against his knee, which was showing through his ripped skinny jeans. He was biting his lip, his gaze shifting anxiously around the room.
I watched as the little girl with the broken arm got led through the double doors, and into an examination room, and shuddered as I realized they’d probably have to re-break her arm to get it to set right.
They had to bring out a wheelchair for the pregnant teenage girl, since she couldn’t stand without doubling over in pain. The boy looked like he was about to cry, but her mother didn’t even go back through the double doors with them.
Finally, a nurse in lilac scrubs opened one of the double doors, and called, “George Ross?”
Brendon stood, and wrapped his arm around my back, gently helping me to my feet. Pete trailed behind us as we walked over to the nurse.
She stepped back, and allowed Brendon to help me through the door. She led us down the hall and into a small, white room. She gestured for me to sit on the blue cushioned table that was covered with white paper.
I gasped as Brendon helped me onto it, and I laid back, wincing.
The nurse asked a bunch of questions that Brendon answered. I tuned them out, closing my eyes.
“Ry!” Brendon said, shaking my shoulders.
My eyes shot open. I tried to blink the haziness from my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
“You fell asleep.” Brendon sighed. “You can’t sleep yet, Ry-Ry.”
“Why?” I asked groggily, not sure if I was asking why I couldn’t sleep or why he just called me Ry-Ry.
“Because you might have a concussion.” Brendon said. “You can’t sleep until they know.”
I tried to sit up, but I gasped in pain from my ribs, falling back against the bed.
Wait. Bed?
“Did they move me?” I asked, looking around the room.
“Yeah.” Brendon said. “They just brought you back from doing x-rays.”
“Whoa… how long has it been since we were in that first room?” I glanced around. “Where’s Pete?”
“It’s only been about half an hour.” Brendon said. His hand was trailing lightly up and down the bars of the bed. “Pete left. To go help Jon and Spencer.”
“What are Jon and Spencer doing?” I asked.
“They’re packing your stuff.” Brendon said. His hand clenched around the rail next to the bed, his whole arm shaking. He exhaled forcefully from his nose, and bit his lip, looking away from me, glaring at the floor.
“Brendon?” I whispered. I moved my hand to set it on top of his, but he flinched away.
After a moment of awkward silence, he looked back up at me. He looked so sad, and I felt an ache in my chest and pressure behind my eyes.
“Ryan… why--”
Brendon was cut off by a doctor entering the room.
“Well, Mr. Ross…” He said, looking down at the folder in his hands. “The good news is, you have no lasting head injuries. The bad news is, for tonight, you need to be woken up every hour, as you do have a minor concussion. More good news: Your ribs are fractured, not broken. More bad news: 6 of them are injured.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t as bad as I expected.
“There’s no internal bleeding or anything?” Brendon asked the doctor, looking hopeful.
“No signs of internal injury.” The doctor said, looking back down at the folder. “If you have any concerns, by all means, come back and have someone look at it.” The doctor closed his folder, and looked back up at the two of us. “A nurse will be coming to wrap your ribs in a few minutes. You’ll need to stay here tonight, but you can go home tomorrow morning.”
“Can Brendon stay with me?” I asked, my hand drifting automatically back towards Brendon’s. He gripped it back this time, instead of flinching away.
“Yes.” The doctor said hesitantly. “It won’t be comfortable, but he can stay.”
“Some of our friends want to come see him this evening. Is that possible?” Brendon asked the doctor.
“Visiting hours end at 10:30pm on Friday nights.” The doctor said, glancing at his watch. “I imagine they can at least come in a say hi.”
The doctor left.
“What time is it?” I asked Brendon.
“9:30.” He responded. “Ryan, why didn’t you tell anyone that Matt was doing this to you?” Brendon looked into my eyes desperately, and I felt my eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t know.” I whispered, blinking rapidly, causing the tears to spill down my cheeks.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry.” Brendon moved so he was sitting on the bed next to me, and he cupped my face in his large hands, wiping tears from under my eyes.
“I was embarrassed.” I whispered. “And scared. I deserved it…”
“Ryan.” Brendon said harshly, and I blinked up at him, surprised. “You didn’t deserve it. Don’t ever fucking tell yourself that, okay?”
“Okay.” I nodded, though I didn’t believe him.
Brendon moved off the bed, and sat in the chair again. He pulled his sidekick from his pocket, and looked at the screen. He made a disgusted face, then typed something.
A nurse came in a few minutes later, carrying a tray. She smiled sympathetically when she looked at my tear stained face and puffy eyes.
She moved over next to the bed, and helped me into a sitting position. I lifted my shirt over my head, and she started wrapping ace bandages around my chest.
“I’ll come in to wake you every hour.” The nurse said as she wrapped. “You need to put ice on this to keep the swelling down every two hours, so I’ll bring that for you. I’ll check the wrapping for you every three hours, to make sure it’s not too tight or too loose, but tell me if you want me to check it at any particular time.”
She finished wrapping all the way down my stomach, and I pulled my shirt back on. The pain was lessened now, and she handed me an ice pack that I laid across my ribs.
“I’ll make sure that the doctor gets you a prescription for pain medication before you leave tomorrow.” She said, and she left.
Me and Brendon were silent. I was pretty much staring at him, but he wouldn’t look at my face. His eyes shifted from the bottom corner of the curtain that could be pulled to cover the glass door, to the blank TV screen, to his knee, then he started doing something on his sidekick again.
A few minutes later, Jon and Spencer came through the door.
“We got all your stuff out.” Spencer said. “It’s all still in Jon’s truck, cause we weren’t sure where you’d want to stay.”
“He can stay with me.” Brendon said quietly, still not looking at me.
“Where’s Pete?” Jon asked, looking around as though Pete was hiding somewhere in the room.
“He had something he needed to do, but he’ll be here soon.” Brendon said.
“I thought you said Pete was helping them?” I said to Brendon. His eyes flashed up to mine, and I flinched away from his intense stare.
“He was.” Brendon looked away again. I was confused, but I didn’t press the subject. I’d always thought Brendon was kind of scary when he was mad.
Pete came in a few minutes later. Maybe it was my imagination, or the morphine, but it looked like he was walking strangely. He winced as he lowered himself into a chair, leaning back and crossing legs.
A/N: Hey guys! So, I pulled an all-nighter, and spent some time working on this, so I decided to go ahead and upload the next chapter. Thanks to those who reviewed, you all made me smile!
xxAnna
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