Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Aubergine Dream

Chapter 4- Brendon

by TayBayBay 2 reviews

Brendon's POV

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Published: 2011-11-29 - Updated: 2011-11-29 - 4522 words

Time consistency is a little off. This takes place the night Kurt finds out that he is transferring to Dalton.

I normally spent the evenings hiding out. Barricade myself in my bedroom until everyone went to sleep, and then venture downstairs to go find a good movie to watch or something. Oh, and grab a capri sun.

And I would have done exactly that, if my stomach wasn't growling up a storm, and my hidden stash of skittles hadn't disappeared. It was about 7 pm, and I knew my parents were downstairs watching TV, while my brother was probably in his room or the basement. I could make a quick dash to the pantry without being noticed. It couldn't be that hard.

I twisted the door handle of my bedroom, and slipped out into the hallway as quietly as possible, flying down the stairs and into the kitchen. My parents were in front of the television, just as I thought, and Mason was nowhere to be found.

"Brendon? Is that you?" my mom called over her shoulder.

"Yeah, just grabbing something to eat." I explained, opening the fridge and examining it's contents.

"Need me to cook you something?"

"Nah, I've got it. Thanks." I shut the fridge, and reached into the pantry, pulling out a box of kraft mac n' cheese. I grabbed a pot from under the counter, and filled it with water.

"Cooking me dinner?" Mason asked, coming into the kitchen, and walking to the fridge. His voice made me jump, and glance over at my parents nervously.

"I'm sure you're fully capable." I roll my eyes, feigning nonchalance. Why is he down here? The one time I leave my room, he has to be in my way.

"I don't cook," He smiles, but it isn't warm in the slightest, "Should I get you an apron, stay at home sally? Wouldn't want you to ruin your favorite purple sweater."

God, he's such a fucking prick.

"It's a hoodie, idiot. And no thanks I'm good." I turn from him, zip up all the hoodie all the way, and tug at the bottom, trying to hid the sliver of skin exposed between the bottom of my tight fit shirt, and my sweatpants. The look was too girly, I was sure that Mason would comment.

"Whatever, fag." Mason scoffs, grabbing a bag of chips from the counter top and walking back towards the stairs.

I know my parents can hear him, but they don't so much as turn their heads.

I make my mac n' cheese, pour it into a bowl, and throw the pot in the sink. With just a parting "Night" to my parents, I fly back up the stairs and into my room. Fuck tonight. Fuck Mason. Fuck my family.

I'm really fucking hungry. I'm about halfway through my bowl of mac n' cheese (which is totally delicious by the way) when my cell starts buzzing on my desk. I push myself up from the bed, and walk over to grab my phone, glancing at the flashing number on the screen. I can't help but smile, as I put my dinner down, slump into my office chair, and answer.


"Hey, Brendon? It's Kurt." I know instantly that something is wrong. His voice is a little shaky and quiet.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask.

"Um, yeah. Everything's fine. I just.. I need to talk to someone. I tried calling Blaine, but he didn't pick up." Kurt explains. I nod, knowing Blaine is still at school working on some stuff for the Warblers, and can't shove the twist in my stomach at the thought that Kurt automatically called him first.

But I'm not jealous. That'd be stupid.

"What's going on?" I ask, hoping to be the comfort Kurt needs.

"Can you meet me?" He asks. Like I'd say no.

"Yeah, sure. Where?"

"I don't really care… I just want to take a walk." He sighs.

"Okay, yeah. What's your address? I'll come to your place, and we can walk around the neighborhood." I suggest. Kurt agrees, giving me his address and general directions on how to get there.

"Thanks, Bren." I smile at the nickname.

"No problem. Be there in a bit."

I hang up and scramble into my closet, changing out of my sweatpants and putting on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans. I grab my black beanie, and my matching Jack Skelington gloves and scarf (nothing beats Nightmare, okay?). Quickly glancing in the mirror to make sure all is in order, I grab my phone and walk down the stairs.

"My friends upset, so I'm going to go to his place, okay?" I say over my shoulder at my parents on the way out. I'm met with hums of agreement, as I walk out the front door. One nice thing about your parents not giving a shit about you… is that they don't give a shit about you.

I follow Kurt's directions, and end up at a small house with cute landscaping. I see Kurt, hunched over his own lap, sitting on his porch step.

"Hey." I call out, the words putting fog in the air of the cold night. Kurt's head jumps up, and his eyes meet with mine.

"Hey." He stands up, smiling a little hesitantly, and wraps his arms around himself. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem," He walks down his driveway, and meets me on the street, "Where to?" I ask.

"Let's just walk." He nods in the direction I was heading, and starts moving. I follow his lead, easily falling in step next to him. I let silence fall between us, unsure if I should ask or if he'll just start to spill.

"So…" I lead off, glancing sideways towards him.

"I'm transferring." He says flatly. I blink a few times.

"To Dalton?" I ask.


"Wow." I say, automatically excited, but notice his blank expression and tone it down a bit, "wow."

"And don't get me wrong, I'm excited. It'll be great to go to school with you, and Blaine, and uh… uhm…" He bites his lip, and looks to the ground.

"Jon?" I fill in for him.

"Yeah, sorry." Kurt smiles a little.

"It's fine." I return the smile, wanting so badly to reach out and take his hand. Actually comfort him. But I don't let myself cross that line. I don't even know what he's feeling in general, let alone towards me.

"But yeah, I'm really excited… But all of my friends… my home is back at McKinley." Kurt explains, a pained expression crossing his face as he looks down at the street.

"Yeah… Can I ask why you're transferring?" I urge him to continue.

"Karoftsky." He says simply. My stomach tightens.

"That dick head Blaine was telling me about?" I ask.

"He threatened to kill me-"

"What the fuck?"

"And I thought he'd finally been expelled, but the school board didn't allow it, and he's going back. My Dad and Carol didn't want to risk anything. So, Dalton it is." Kurt finally looks over at me, our eyes catching and sticking together for a brief second, before he looks out again.

"That really sucks. I'm sorry." Is all I can say, without sounding like it's forced. I'd be lying to say I wasn't totally ecstatic that I'd get to see him everyday, even get to sing with him with the Warblers, but it didn't seem right to tell him all that.

"It does suck. But it doesn't suck as much as it could." Kurt shrugs. He grabs my arm, and leads me off the street and onto the damp wood chips of a playground. We automatically find the swings and sit, letting our legs dangle as we slowly rock back and forth.

"I don't want to leave Ryan behind. I think that might be the worst part." Kurt admits, still refusing to glance at me, his eyes glued to his shoes.

"You're friend?" I assume. I vaguely remember Blaine mentioning something about a Ryan.

"My best friend, actually. We're kind of a team. The only out kids at our school. He's amazing. Always been there for me. And don't get me wrong he can be a total jerk sometimes, but I love him. Wouldn't have him be any different."

"How come you two never…" I lead on, raising an eyebrow. Kurt glances at me then, an amused smile on his face.

"Ryan? No, not my type. Too much like me for us to have any chemistry other than best friends. He's great to talk to though. He'll tell you how it is without holding back. He's really genuine. You'd like him." Kurt nods with his words, eyes far away like he's talking about a prized possession. I couldn't imagine moving to a different school and leaving Blaine behind… It would kill me.

"How'd he take the news?"

"He seemed supportive. Like he knows transferring is the best option for me. But I can tell he's upset… or maybe scared. Without me there, Karoftsky will just go after him. And I'd try to get him to transfer with me, but you know how Dalton's tuition is, and his parents… well they aren't the best of people." He explains it sadly, letting his head rest against the chain of the swing. His eyes slip shut, leaving him with this sad, peaceful expression that could very well be breaking my heart.

"He'll be okay, Kurt. No matter what school you go to, he'll still be your best friend. And if things get rough for him, you'll still be there for support. Dalton isn't that far away." I try to comfort him, wanting to reach out hold his hand. But there's too many barriers between us at the moment. And if anyone is hard to read, Kurt Hummel takes the prize.

"Yeah, you're right." Kurt nods, still keeping his eyes shut.

"I mean, Blaine and I are here for you, and we don't go to the same school-"

"We do now." The edges of his lips curve slightly, hinting at a smile. I bite my lip to hold back outright grinning.

"Well, yeah. Now we do."

Kurt jumps a little, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his buzzing cell phone.

"Hey, I was just talkin-" His face drops, "Hey, hey, I'm here. Ry, calm down, I'm right here." His eyes squeeze shut as he listens, "Ryan, talk to me."

I watch quietly, my stomach twisting into a small knot at the sight of Kurt hurting.

"Okay, I'm coming over, right now." He says, sounding slightly angry. Just slightly. "No, I don't care. I'll be over in a few," he glances up at me, "Brendon's coming with me."

Okay, well at least he still wants me here. I nod in confirmation.

"Yeah, okay. Be there soon." He pulls the phone from his ear, and stands up from his swing, wrapping his hand around my wrist unexpectedly and pulling me with him. "I'm sorry for bringing you into this, but I just- I need someone to-"

"No, no. It's fine. Is he okay?" Our steps are rushed, and I have yet to pull my arm from his grip, which seems to be tightening.

"I hope so. He can be so- ugh," he shakes his head angrily, " so stupid when he gets upset."

"Okay." I try not to pry more than I have to, we're practically running now, and I slip his hand away from my wrist, and replace it with my hand, our fingers linking together automatically.

"He doesn't have the best self harm record."

I nod, understanding. I've definitely been there before.

We continue to move quickly down the street, turning a few corners, in quiet tension. I keep my hold on his hand tight, refusing to let him be alone, refusing to let him feel scared. He pulls me up the drive way of a house, presumably Ryan's, and around to the side window well. He pry's the lid of the well off, obviously used to this way of entry, and jumps down into it. He unlatches something, and pulls the window open, automatically sliding inside. I follow his lead, jumping down, and into the house. I turn to see Kurt kneeling on a small bed in the corner of the room, wrapping his arms around the small ball of human that's sitting on the pillows. He's whispering into Ryan's ear, but I can't pick out the words. I pry my eyes away, the moment feeling too intimate for my presence. I try to push my focus onto everything else in the room, the posters of Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, and Smashing Pumpkins on the walls, the Fender propped up in the corner, the acoustic laying on the ground, the records upon records upend records stacked up next to an old school turn table.

Okay, this room is pretty fuckin sweet.

My eyes fall onto something else. A yellow sliver of light gleams on the carpet, leading to a door I would have assumed was a closet. I push it open, finding a small square bathroom with only a toilet, sink and mirror. The walls are painted an off white, and the tiles are most likely supposed to be white, but are stained in more than one spot. It's dirty, smells a little of sewage. But that's not what draws my attention, sitting on the counter is a small two sided razor.

I step a little further into the room, and there it is.

Crimson streaks on the white counter, trickling down into the drain of the sink. I bite my lip, and glance over my shoulder.

I really shouldn't be here. I back out of the door and look over to the bed. Kurt's hands are rubbing down Ryan's back, gliding over green cotton fabric. Ryan's head is resting on Kurt's shoulder, his face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

"Ry, you have to talk to me," Kurt says softly, "Just tell me."

"I didn't mean to." Ryan says, his voice a soft monotone. I assume he's crying, though his voice doesn't let it show.

Kurt glances up at me, and holds my gaze, "You promised me you were done with it."

"I was!" Ryan sits up, and hisses a little, "I was."

Kurt looks back at Ryan, "Where are they?"


"Where are they? You hissed! You're hurt! Where?" Kurt is persistent, standing up from the bed, and pulling Ryan with him, causing another hiss to escape his mouth.

For the first time I can really see Ryan. He's thin, extremely thin actually, with skin almost as pale as Kurt's. His hair is a light brown, sticking up at random angles, and falling in front of his eyes. His lips are pursed into a tight line, eyes staring into Kurt defiantly.

"Kurt. I'm fine." He shakes Kurt's hand from his wrist, backing up a little, and finally glancing over at me.

I only hold his gaze for a second, before he looks over at the bathroom door, and then back to me. He knows what I've seen. But I don't look away. I've been there before, and I can't judge him.

"Where. Are. They." Kurt repeats, pulling Ryan's attention again. It doesn't take me very long to see the stains, small dark lines coloring the top of his jeans, just below his pockets. But I don't point them out. It's not my place. And as it turns out I don't have to. Kurt makes a small gasping noise, before putting his hand right on the stains. Ryan jumps, trying to pull away.


"God, Ry. You're bleeding still. Okay, um-" Kurt glances around the room, and his eyes land on me. I feel silly, standing here not doing anything. "Bren, I'm going to run to my house. Just stay here all right?" He looks desperate.

I just nod, unsure what to say. Kurt looks back at Ryan, whose eyes are wide, before he walks away, pulling himself back into the window sill, and out onto the lawn.

Ryan and I just stare at each other for a minute, before he moves his hands to his hips, long fingers wrapping around his fragile form.

"Hi." He states simply.

"Hey." I reply. His fingers tap against his skin.

"I, uh…" He looks away from me, walking back to his bed and sitting down, "Sorry. About this."

"It's fine." I shrug a little, "Are you okay?"

"I'll make it through."

"Okay." I bite my lip.

"So… you're Blaine's cousin?" Ryan asks, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at me.

"Uh, yeah. That's me."

"Cool. He's really… cool." He glances down at the stains as they darken on the denim.

"You know, the denim is really bad for the cuts… they won't heal if you don't clean them off first." I say quietly.

"They're fine." He shakes his head, but it's obvious that he knows I'm right. Hell, I know I'm right. That denim is just going to irritate his skin until it get's infected.

"I'm sure Kurt is going to come back with an entire first aid kit." I say, letting him think whatever he wants about his own cuts. Once again, not my place to impose.

"Yeah. I really don't need it though."

"What made you break?" I ask, which makes his eyes look back into mine.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you said to Kurt that you were done… something must have happened." I walk closer to the bed, and opt to sit on the floor in front of him. He clears his throat and looks away from me.

"I guess… well," He looks back at me hesitantly, like he's judging whether or not I'm worthy of hearing about his problems. Fair enough, we only just met, "My dad was plastered when I came home. And I was already upset about Kurt leaving and it pissed me off, so I may have said some backhanded comment about it, and he pushed me around a little. Nothing more than usual, and I figured I'd get to vent about to Kurt at school tomorrow… and then it really hit me that well, no I won't get to do that." He pauses, sitting up a little more, and tracing fingers over the stains, "So I tried to write, but it was a bunch of useless shit and one would think that when you're I don't know… as hurt as I am right now the words and music would just flow out, but it didn't, and I couldn't say any of the things I wanted to, I mean, not really. So yeah… I just snapped."

I nod slowly, taking it all in. He sounds just about as fucked up as I've been in the past. Still am a little bit. But I have Blaine, always have, always will. If I had been going through all this with the knowledge that I'd be loosing Blaine, even a little bit. Well, fuck if I wouldn't have snapped too.

"That makes sense."

"Does it?" Ryan raises an eyebrow, "Because no one else seems to think so."

"It makes sense to me. It really does." I try to smile, but it's flat.

"I figured you'd judge me. Or assume I was just… I don't know…" He looks like he's about to cry right about then.

I stand up, putting my hand out for him, "Well, I wasn't about to assume that you were bleeding onto your bathroom floor, just for the attention."

Ryan blinks, taking my hand and letting me pull him into a standing position with another hiss, "Why not? Most people would."

"Because… that's just…" I shake my head lightly, "ridiculous. I can tell you're not that type of guy."

He smiles a little, but I can see that he's not convinced. He can think what he want's of me, because I know I'm telling the truth.

"Okay. Well, thanks I guess." He nods slowly, "I didn't want us to meet like this."

"It's fine," I take a few steps towards his bathroom, and he goes pale, "I'm going to clean up in here, okay? Something tells me Kurt wouldn't want that job." I try to joke. He just watches me carefully, "And you should change your pants. I suggest some kind of soft fabric."

"Okay, yeah," He agrees, staggering over to his dresser as I reach the bathroom door, "Oh, uhm, under the counter, there's a brown bottle. Can you grab it for me?"

"Sure." I agree. I walk into the bathroom, immediately find the bottle, and turn around to find Ryan standing in front of a floor length mirror propped against his wall, in only a pair of black boxer briefs. But the fact that he's only in his underwear isn't what momentarily stops my heart.

The cuts are bad, really bad. Lines of them across his upper thighs, one right after another. Blood is still dripping down his bare legs, as he stares at himself, at them, while biting his lip. I can't read the expression on his face. An odd mixture of embarrassment, shame, and satisfaction, maybe. I walk up behind him, and hand him the bottle.

"Yeah, you really need the first aid." I say, quickly turning back to the bathroom, and returning with a washcloth. I take the bottle from his hand, and pour some only to the fabric, falling to my knees, and placing a hand on the back of his thigh.

"I can, you don't need to-fuck." He hisses as I press the peroxide to one of the cuts. He hand grabs onto my shoulder tight, fingers digging in. I don't care though, he's going to bleed out, or get infected or something if I don't take care of this. I continue down his right thigh, cleaning out all the cuts that go halfway to his knee. His leg's are so small, like if I push hard enough his bones might break underneath my hands. He keeps cursing and hissing as I work, and finally when I look up at his face I see tears on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." I apologize, but it's halfhearted. Does he realize what he's done to himself? He doesn't respond, but nods, bites his lips harder, and gazes at himself in the mirror.

I'm almost halfway done with his left thigh when Kurt comes back.

"Okay, I have bandages and some antibiotic-" Kurt pauses taking in the damage. He lets out a shaky breath, as Ryan looks at him.

"I'm really sorry, Kurt." Ryan says slowly.

"Don't be sorry… It's fine. It'll be fine." Kurt closes his eyes, as if trying to wipe the image from his brain.

"Bandages?" I prompt, putting down the cloth as I finish the final cut. Kurt nods, handing them to me, and then places both hands on either side of Ryan's face.

"You can't keep doing this, okay? Whenever you feel like doing this, you call me? Understand?"

Ryan nods as I wrap one bandage around his upper thigh. He should be okay now. I'm just glad I was here to help. So glad.

Kurt's phone is buzzing in his pocket again, and he glances at the number. He walks away from us, saying, "Dad, hi." Into the receiver.

"He loves you." I say, standing back up, now that both bandages have been fastened.

"I know." Ryan nods. I look over at Kurt, taking in just how loving, and genuine he is. All three of us are pretty damaged, but Kurt handles it with such ease. At least, that's what he let's show. It's amazing to me, really. How a person can handle all that he's gone through, as still be the beautiful. "You're crushing on him." Ryan's voice pulls me back.

"I, uh… I'm sorry?" I ask, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

"You're interested in Kurt." He says, a tiny smile on his face, but it doesn't really hit his eyes. They're an amazing kind of amber brown, did I mention that?

"Well… I mean-"

"It's fine. You should probably let him know at some point. Before he starts crushing on someone else." Ryan says slowly, walking to the bed where's he's laid out a pair of black sweatpants. Crushing on someone else? Is there someone-

Oh. Right. Blaine.

"You, uh… You really think so?" I ask. Ryan pulls the pants on, and nods.

"Yes. I really do." Well, that's good to know, coming from his best friend. No one would know Kurt like Ryan, I guess.

"Okay… I just didn't know… If I was his type." I say, a little embarrassed. Ryan laughs slightly, but it's hollow. Must still be in pain.

"He used to be into his step brother, and that kid is a total fucking idiot," Ryan looks at me, his expression sincere, "You should be fine."

"Okay, hey, sorry. My dad was just freaking out a little bit." Kurt says, coming back into the conversation.

"You didn't-"

"No I didn't tell him. But he's not stupid. He knows something's wrong. Are you okay? Are you lightheaded?" Kurt asks in a rush.

"I'm fine, Brendon patched me up even though I totally could have done it myself." Ryan says, falling back onto his bed.

"Had to be sure." I shrug.

"Good, well, thank you," Kurt smiles at me, this real kind of heart breaking 'you're the best person ever right now' smile, and it may or may not make my heart drop into my stomach.

"Not a problem."

Kurt nods with the same smile, and walks over to sit next to Ryan on the bed. It's clear they have things to talk about, air to clear, which means that's my cue to leave.

"I should probably get back," I excuse myself, walking back towards the window, "My parents are probably worried." That's a straight out lie, because they obviously don't give a fuck.

"Okay." Kurt says, "Thanks for everything tonight."

I smile, "Of course, yeah. Oh, hey Ryan?" I ask. Ryan perks up a little, looking over at me. I walk back to him, pulling a black sharpie out of my back pocket (always have to have one just in case… I don't know I just really like them), and grab his arm. He looks at me with a confused expression as I messily jot down my phone number on his forearm. "Just incase you need someone… to make sense of things." I smile.

"Yeah, thanks." He looks down at the number, "I'll text you."

I walk back towards the window, glancing at Ryan's nightstand when something catches my eye. It's a copy of The Smashing Pumpkins, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I've been dying to get my hands on that album. I bite my lip, and pick it up, examining the cover.

"Hey, uh, can I borrow this? I've been looking for it everywhere."

"Yeah, sure. Just give it back?" Ryan asks, with a half smile.

"Of course. Night, guys." I excuse myself, pushing the album into my back pocket, and pulling myself back into the window well.
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