Out of my Mind // A Brendon Urie Fanfiction

sixty seven

We decided that the best time to leave was sometime around five. Connor hung out for a little while, and went home to get ready. We leave in two hours.

I'm not going to lie, going out with the way I look isn't my idea of the best night out. My face is still scratched and bruised; scabs across my forehead where shards of glass once were, bruises on my chin from where my head hit the steering wheel, a crushed leg from the impact of the truck.

But the worst injury is the blank space where part of my life used to be.

And tonight is supposed to fill that space. So whatever insecurities I have about my appearance, I just need to get over. It's not like I haven't lived with insecurities my entire life.

"What are you thinking about?" Brendon sits down next to me.

"Nothing."

"I know that's not true." He lightly presses his fingertip in between my eyebrows,"because you get a crease right here when you're thinking about something." I relax and he pulls away.

"Just about tonight."

"What about it?"

"I don't know.. I'm just worried people are going to look at me.. differently." I pull at my shirt and he tilts his head.

"You wanna know what I thought about the second you woke up?"

"What?"

"I thought about how grateful I was that you were even alive at all. I thought about how strong you are and how beautiful you looked that day. But not once did it cross my mind that you looked weak. You looked stronger than I've ever seen you." I shake my head as he smiles.

"Why are you still here, Brendon?" He leans back and frowns.

"What do you mean?"

"You're rooting for a girl that may not remember you ever again. I can't imagine what that feels like, but I know it can't be a good feeling. So why are you still here when you could have anyone else?" he shrugs like it's not a hard question.

"Because I don't want anyone else."

"I don't even know you." He looks away, tightly clasping his hands in front of him.

The past couple days have been good with him. They've been more than good. But he's in love with someone that can't love him the same way.

"Whether or not you want to deny it is up to you; but you and I both know you feel something for me. Maybe you don't know why, but it's there. That's why I stay. Not because it doesn't hurt like hell; trust me, it does, but because I know what's here. I know what we have. And sooner or later, you're gonna know too." He stands up and leaves the room.

I don't know how to feel. I know he's right, though. There's always been something drawing me to him; connecting us like pieces of a puzzle. A puzzle that's missing half of itself.

We shared a moment last night. But did it mean anything other than the fact that I felt lonely?

I lay down, holding my pounding head. I feel lightheaded. And dizzy. Too much thinking. Too much of everything.

Even though I close my eyes, I still feel the world spinning around me. I feel separated from myself, like I'm not really here. It's a fuzzy feeling.

I pull my legs into my body and almost fall asleep.

I could've sworn I was only drifting off, but when I wake up, I have half an hour to get ready.

"Shit." I pull my wheelchair over to me and plop down into it, feeling refreshed from my nap. It's good to stop thinking sometimes.