Brendon Urie Imagines and Smuts

Take These Broken Wings (Fluff)

Picture him singing it like this... I'm so dead rn.

Y/N is Brendon's teenage Sister

*TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM*

Y/N POV:

Turning the volume up, I press my headphones closer to my ears to drown out all the background noise. I'm sick to death of hearing my parents argue, hurling insults at each other all evening. It's been like this for ages but neither of them have the guts to leave the other one, because by morning, they'll be all lovey-dovey again, until it starts up tomorrow evening. They're so busy fighting with each other that they barely pay attention to me anymore, so neither of them have noticed that I've stopped going to school.

My attendance used to be 100% and I was top of my class, but when things at home got tough, my mood dropped and it impacted all aspects of my life. My friends soon started to leave one by one, unable to deal with my mood swings. My grades began to drop, because I had no motivation to do my homework and when I did, I always handed it in too late. People at school started to pick on me, so I just figured that there was no point anyway, what do I have going for me?

The screaming continues well into the evening, not even my music can drown it out. With tears streaming down my face, I do something I haven't done in a while. I call my Brother.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Is that Mom and Dad fighting?" He asks, his voice laced with concern. I open my mouth to speak but no sound will come out, due to the tears that are streaming down my face.

"I'll come and get you, get a bag together. You can stay with Sarah and I for a while, okay?" He asks and I nod, realising that he can't see me. I manage a squeaky 'yes' before ending the call to get my stuff ready. Going round my room, I chuck a load of random things in my bag, deliberately leaving all my school stuff behind, it's not like I'll be needing it anymore.

I creep downstairs and wait on the front porch, knowing full well that neither of them will even notice that I've gone, because I never leave my room anyway. After about 20 minutes, Brendon pulls up in his Range Rover and I quickly hop into the passenger seat.

"You can stay for as long as you want, okay? Sarah's making the guest bedroom up right now" He says, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling away from my street. I stare out the window for the whole journey, not saying a single word. I know that if I try to speak, I will just break down in tears and I really don't want him to see me like that. 

As we arrive at his house, he takes my bag for me and carries it up to the spare bedroom. I give him a big hug, my way of showing him my gratitude without having to speak. I can tell he's desperate to ask me more questions, but I shut the door and begin to cry again. When did things go so wrong?

Rolling up my sleeves, I look at the cuts that litter my arm. I stroke them gently with my thumb, trying to push away the urges and thoughts racing through my head, telling me to add more. I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to focus on something else but it's no use. Emptying my bag, I pull out my blade and hold it against my skin. 

"Y/N? I got you some clean towels and stuff" Brendon says and he stops dead, dropping the towels as he sees what I'm doing. His face pales and he quickly takes me over to the tap, running cold water over my arm, pressing a flannel against it. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" I say, getting choked up with tears yet again. I notice Brendon's eyes look watery too and I'm suddenly overcome with guilt. Why am I such a horrible person?

After a few minutes of him pressing the flannel against my skin, he finds a bandage and wraps it around my arm. Then, he leads me to the bed and sits next to me, wrapping an arm around me. 

"Whatever it is you're going through, you're not alone, okay? But, please don't do this. I know it's hard to stop, but please tell me next time you get the urge. I'm here to help you. I'm sorry we haven't spoken in a while, but I'm so glad you called me. I love you, Y/N" He whispers, as I rest my head on his shoulder. 

He begins to sing softly to me and I soon as I recognise the song, I can't help but smile. It was one of the first songs he ever played to me when he learnt the guitar. 

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life..." He sings and I close my eyes, instantly soothed by his voice. He carries on singing until I finally drift off to sleep. 

Ahhhh all my ideas seem to be really dark atm. If you're struggling with self harm or anything, I am here if you want to talk about anything. 

This song has helped me through so many shitty times like the one in the story, so I wanted to write something based on it.

I'm slowly coming back (I know I keep saying that), sorry this one was so shit.