FicWad

I never liked him anyway.

He never cared for me, why should I waste my time forgiving and forgetting? Besides, it would be nearly impossible to forget the look of satisfaction on his face when he spat on me after beating me. That smug smile, those evil eyes, pleased with his work. Not the fondest memories of my father, but they were the only memories I carried of the bastard. Those and the endless hours of being beaten. I had to move on, but I couldn't do it alone. Luckily, I wasn't.

The strong arm around my shoulders reminded me of that as we stood in front of my childhood church. That arm belonged to Brendon Urie, the only person who really understood what I was going through. After all, he loved me and I loved him back, the reason for my scars and contusions. Raindrops splattered onto the umbrella he held over our heads. The perfect weather for a funeral.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Brendon's thick, velvety voice filled my eardrums, bringing me back to reality.

"I didn't like him, but I should at least be in there for the rest of the family. I'm doing it for them, not my dad."

Without another word, Brendon led me into the church.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He was such a great man, your father." I glanced up at the decrepit pastor. He gave me a bittersweet smile, noticing my lack of tears. Father Sam wasn't stupid. He knew of the mutual hatred between my dad and I, but he constantly tried to look beyond the bad in people. I was surprised that his gaze didn't pass all the way through my dad.

"I guess..." I knew it wasn't true. I was simply too exhausted to care. After everything he'd put me through - from the day my mom left to the call from the hospital - I was drained of all emotion.

"Would you like to say a few words, George?" I didn't even bother correcting him with my name like many times before.

"I don't know, Father Sam. I don't think I have much to say."

"He was your father, George. It would be appropriate for you to speak." his stern tone caught me off-guard and I realized that I didn't have much of a choice.

"Whatever." I mutter under my breath as Father Sam took long strides towards the podium.

"Family and friends, we are gathered here today..." I spaced out as he began that overused monologue. It was more like a soliloquy if you asked me. My eyes wandered around the room, taking in the distant relatives that sat around me. It's funny how they didn't give a damn about me or my dad until he died. Something wrenched at my heart and a tear formed in my eye.

"But I don't care about him." I told myself, not believing myself for the first time. I wiped the tear away furiously. I didn't want to face the truth.

"...Geo- Ryan has offered to say a few words." I brought my attention back to the pastor, recognizing that he corrected himself on my name but not thinking much of it.

I dragged myself up to the stand reluctantly. Father Sam patted me on the back with a firm hand. After a few deep breaths, I looked out to the crowd and began.

"I wasn't very close with my dad," perfect way to start off, right? "he never really accepted me for who I was, but deep down, I knew that he loved me. Somewhere behind his mask of alcohol, stood a loving father. I kept telling myself that I wouldn't miss him. I was wrong. I miss him a lot. I wish that I could've been there for him when he died." I stopped, unable to continue. My eyes darted over to Brendon, longing to be in his warm embrace like a kid who doesn't want to leave their mom on the first day of school. I drummed my fingers on the podium feverishly, sweating nervously and itching to be out of everyone's field of vision.

"Thank you all for coming." I finally concluded, choking on salty tears.

Suddenly, I bolted out of the room and kept running until I was in the parking lot. I tripped over my feet clumsily, landing on the wet pavement. Rain soaked through my clothes, chilling me to the bone. I hugged my knees to my chest tightly. Uncontrollable sobs racked my body as the raindrops stung my face like shards of glass.

"Ryan!" Brendon's voice pierced through the distant sound of traffic. He ran over to me like a frantic puppy.

"Ryan," he repeated, pulling me to my feet and into his arms, "What happened in there?"

"I don't know, Bren. I just miss him." I tripped over my words, unable to control my trembling bottom lip. I hiccuped and started sobbing harder. Brendon held my head in the crook of his neck, my steady flow of tears staining his shirt. He sang softly, trying to soothe me.

"Prescribed pills to offset the shakes, to offset the pills. You know you should take it a day at a time."

"You know that you're quoting me, right?" I whispered into his damp shirt.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I honestly don't know," he kissed the top of my head, "but we should get out of the rain. It's too damn cold for me."

"I second that motion." I pulled away just enough to look into Brendon's deep chocolate eyes. He leaned in and kissed me gently, making my nerves sing. I rested my head in the crook of his neck once more.

"I love you, Ry." I hugged him tighter, loving the feeling of his protective arms wrapped around me tightly.

"I second that motion as well."

"I never want to let go of you."

"I still second that motion, Bren."

We walked back to the church, still intertwined in the pouring rain. I loved Brendon's hugs. They reminded me that someone still loved me. How anyone could love someone as troubled as myself, only God knows.