Strictly Business // Brendon Urie

-47-

Brendon picked me up from his car, bridal style, and started to carry me inside, stopping at the door and tried to open it. It was locked.

He started struggling to find a way to get his keys while still holding me. "Brendon, I can just stand." I suggested, slurring my words a little. I wasn't slurring because I was drunk, I knew that for a fact. I hadn't had a sip of alcohol for two days, and I'm really hoping it's not brain damage.

"You sure?" Brendon's asked, looking at me with his typical worried eyes. I have a love hate relationship with his eyes. They are beautiful, and deep, but they can manipulate the crap out of me.

I nodded sloppily, letting him lightly put my feet on the ground and keep his hand on my back for support while he unlocked the door. "You need to lie down, Quinn." He spoke softly, picking me back up in one swift move and continuing into the house.

"No, I can't. I need to stay awake. If I have a concussion then I shouldn't be sleeping." I muttered, enough for him the hear. Brendon sat me up on the kitchen counter, chuckling at my statement, "What would I do without you?" He asked sarcastically, leaning against his fridge.

"If I knew, I would tell you." I answered, my eyes growing incredibly heavy. "I'm going to get stuff to clean you up, you are still bloody." Brendon said quickly, waking me a bit.

I really really want to sleep, but if I did I might now wake up. That's how typical concussions go.

Brendon walked back into the room shortly, carting a container of first aid type of supplies. He placed the box next to me and pared my legs, fitting his body between them to get closer to my face. He made it so it wasn't so sexual, though, almost helpful.

"Stay still." He argued as I started to sway back and forth on my own. "I'm trying." I countered, putting in all I could to fix my posture.

After a couple band-aids and very bloody cloths later, I was all bandaged up. Brendon was handling me like I was a four year old, with almost too much caution. There was a point where I practically had to force a piece of cloth to one of my open cuts because he didn't want it to hurt.

"Okay, my head feels better, can I please go to sleep?" I begged, being honest about my head health. Brendon thought for a moment, and then took my hands, helping me down from the counter. By then I was able to stand and walk like a functioning human, so that's good.

Brendon groaned, "Alright. I'll get you a change of clothes, you can go to the bed." I furrowed my eyebrows, cocking my head to the side a bit too. "The bed? Where will you sleep?" I asked, my arms crossed.

"If it's okay with you, the same bed as you." He answered quietly, leaving the room to fill with tension and awkwardness.

If I said I didn't want to, I'd be lying. But, he cheated. I don't share beds with cheaters.

"Why did you do it?" I asked, my heart thumping enough for my ears to hear.

Brendon inhaled deeply, running a hand through his thick hair. "I didn't." He spoke, exhaling.

"What?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't what?" I asked, feeling completely confused.

"I didn't cheat. I said I did, but I didn't really." He answered simply, not breaking eye contact. "I don't understand?"

"Do you really think I would cheat on the woman I would die for? No, I didn't and I will never cheat." He answered once again, my eyes growing doe-y.

My heart ached with hurt and curiosity. "I-I don't understand, you never cheated on me, so why did you tell me you did?" I asked in attempt to clarify something I don't think can be clarified.

"I love you, so much, but I didn't think you loved me anymore, so I gave you an out."

I became so angry in that moment. I wanted nothing more than to throw a chair against a wall, or smash something until it shatters. No one knows what's right for me besides me. I didn't need, nor do I want, an out, but he forced one onto me and I'm just so fucking pissed about that.

So, I started hitting.

I started crying, hard, and swinging. Honestly, the hits I was throwing probably weren't all that harmful to Brendon, but I had my eyes closed and I was swinging, releasing all the anger I never really showed, which was a lot.

"How.. do.. you.. know.. what's.. good.. for.. me?!" I was screaming between hits. He wasn't trying to stop it much, because he knew he deserved it. After a while, and Brendon probably getting sick of it, he tried to grab me, but I was struggling to get away.

"Let me go!" I squealed, wiggling around in attempts to get out of his hold. It didn't do much, though, seeing as he's way stronger than me.

Tears were streaming down my face, making me look like a freaking toddler having a tantrum. "Calm down!" Brendon yelled, finally getting a good grip on me. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Was what he kept on repeating, until I gave in and stayed calm. Brendon held me close to him as my fists unclenched and softened back to my normal hands.

"I'm sorry, I love you." He whispered once more, my head resting perfectly under his chin. Our arms went from gripping and punching to wrapped around each other where they felt best suited.

"I hate you so much." I whispered to his chest. He knew as well as I did that I didn't mean it, but I wanted it to be so true.

After a little while of comfort, I backed away from him, drying my eyes in the process.

"Let's go to bed." I spoke softly, struggling to lift up my sore to give him my hand.

Brendon nodded and took my quivering hand into his, following me as I went the familiar path to his bedroom. He did as he said and got me some clothes, and he too changed. It felt weird to be back in his bedroom, if we are being honest, just because I never thought I would come back. I guess things just find their ways.

As Brendon brushed his teeth in the bathroom, I began turning off the two lights that were on in the room and crawling into bed. I got in on the side I usually slept on, which I've learned was previously Brendon's spot before we started sleeping together.

I curled a bit before really settling into the soft, silky sheets. I heard Brendon come from the bathroom. Even though I couldn't see him I could hear him walk around the bed, over to his usual side.

For a while we were just there, laying in the darkness, backs to each other. Before I tell you what happened next, I must remind you how I am an emotionally unstable rollercoaster at the moment.

I started crying. Very softly, but still crying. I didn't know why or what caused it, but I was sitting there crying my eyes out. I thought Brendon was asleep, but I found out he wasn't when I felt him wrap his arms around me, his body cupping mine.

"Shhh, it's okay." He whispered softly, but loud enough to hear over my sobs. His finger combed through my hair lightly, calming me down quickly.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. "Why are you sorry?" Brendon asked, his fingers tracing shapes on my bare shoulder. "I'm a mess." I replied, stopping his hand movement by taking it into mine, holding the top of his hand to my mouth.

"Doll, you are far from a mess. You are actually the compete opposite of a mess." Brendon convinced, well, tried to anyway.

"How?" I asked. Putting a stronger grip on his hand.

"Quinzel Sawyer, you are the metaphorical glue that holds every piece of my unbelievably broken life together. Please don't be sorry for that."

"Okay." I replied simply, letting my lips taper into a smile.

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A/N

OUCH sorry for not posting I know I'm terrible. I've been sort of stuck with this book for a bit and I'm not too sure what to do with it. BUT, that's besides the point.

I'm going to try and write more. For you all :)

Much love, Ireland
Xx