I Might Be Holding Your Hand, but I'm Holding It Loose.

“I thought you would know,” she cried silently, the tears running down in lines over the ridges of her cheeks. “I thought I’d give it four days, sometimes he gets like this, and you’re the last person I’d turn to, but it’s just got out of hand.” she barely whispered, clutching his checkered shirt to her chest.

Emma’s eyes widened as Rebecca explained her situation, perched on the bar stool in her apartment, eyes red from crying constantly. Brendon had gone missing.

“Do you have any clues as to where he could be?”
She slipped a yellow note across the bar, reading; I’m a man whore. “That’s all I have. He won’t answer his cell. I haven’t called his parents yet, but if they find out he’s missing it’ll only get more out of control."
“I don’t... I don’t get it.” she said honestly, fingering the curling edges of the note. What could he possibly be doing? Would he be degrading of himself? Would he want to scar his every inch?
It was completely dependent on his mind set, and how far away it was from ‘positive thinking.’
“My fiancé is missing,” she sobbed into her hands. Hysteria rung clear through the room but it wasn’t from Rebecca. It was Emma and her exceedingly difficult veneer of composure.

She was the only one who gave a damn.

~

“I just, oh, oh,” he moaned, pushing back to meet the thrusts. “You know?”
“Brendon,” he grunted, gripping at his pasty hips, shaking his head with eyes squeezed shut, a shiver overtaking his body as the smaller boy clenched around him, both coming with a few seconds of each other, collapsing in a sticky, tangled mess. Their lips were so close they exchanged breath, pouting slightly to form a gentle kiss.
He gripped at Brendon’s face, running a few stripes down his nose with his gun finger, circling his eyes, stroking his lips and parting them, to draw little pictures of broken hearts with his skin on the pearls beneath. “You shouldn’t have come here, babe.”
“I know,” he whispered, reaching down to clutch both of his hands. “This is what I needed right now, Alex.” he smiled, barely. “I’m sorry I came back here for a fuck. I wish it was more, but, yeah. I can’t turn water into wine.”
“And you can’t make yourself love me, either. I’ve already had this battle with myself, Urie.” he chuckled softly, pulling him closer, pressing kisses to his forehead. Nothing loving, nothing comforting, purely something habitual.
“It’s been years since I’ve last seen you. I wish we would have stayed in touch.”
“Babe,” he sighed, pushing his hair through his fingers. “To begin with I was heartbroken by this stupid Mormon kid, and then when I decide that I can look you in the eye, the only way I can do so is by staring at my Rolling Stone magazine.” he looked down, not wanting to meet Brendon’s gaze in case he had better empathy, now. “You were jet-setting around the world with a band you never even told me existed. I was confused, and hurt all over again, but now I can face you easily.”
“Christ,” he sighed, flipping his head back on to the pillow, gripping the freshly moist sheets to his body. “I messed you around without even knowing it. Way to take it up a notch, Brendon...”

Alex raised an eyebrow and sat up. “I really wish I understood why you were here.”
“I did explain.”
“During sex, might I add. Your words were broken into pieces and my brain was not trying to focus on what you were saying, to be quite honest.” he chuckled, smiling honestly, still with his positive charm. Brendon didn’t think he’d changed at all, except his hair seemed lighter from the sun. It made him glow.
“I want everything to return to normal, okay? Back then, I was happy. Back then, I could see where I was going. Back then, I knew what to think and what not to do. Right now? I’m this tightly wound ball of confusion and the best I could come up with was a re-do. I’m trying to go back several years, to when we dated, and then continue from that point.”
“That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve heard in a while.” he scoffed. “There aren’t any ‘do-overs’ in reality, Brendon. You just have to take the shit that’s dished out to you. Your life is written in indelible ink, and sure, you can paint over it but the fact is it still exists and you know it.”

He smiled softly. “You’ve no idea how magnificent it is for me to hear how you don’t empathize.” Brendon giggled and released his grip on the sheets. “I’m finally taking control, don’t you see? I’m in charge, now. “
He demonstrated this by grasping Alex’s face and kissing him fiercely, his tongue mending all those broken hearts he’d drawn previously. No one was getting their heart broken tonight. No one that mattered.
“The fact you don’t understand means it’s not your thoughts. It’s my thoughts, and they are as clear as day. A beautiful day, with a harp player. A day when I don’t have to fucking worry about waking up!” he giggled once more, and all Alex could do is shake his head and laugh along. His mind was confounded by whatever Brendon’s theory was, and as to how it worked, but that apparently was a good thing. All he could tell was that it must have been an awfully long time since he’d picked his smile out from the depths of the drawer and worn it.
“I’m going to have free will!” he chuckled, doubling over in hysteria; laughter. Little did he know his feelings were matched but with opposite effects in the person he could call home.
“I suppose I’m proud of you?” he asked, as if it was a question, but settled on it being a statement.
“Thanks, Alex.” he grinned childishly and kissed him again. “God, you’re wonderful. I don’t understand why you’re not someone’s husband yet. I’d be your husband if we were meant to be together.” he shrugged nonchalantly, and this gave Alex hope. He’d just been told how much the break up had affected him, and how devastatingly heartbroken he was, and yet Brendon is oblivious to this again, suggesting the possibility of marriage. It gave him hope because that’s who Brendon is; he’s young and carefree and loving and cute with a garnish of bashfulness.
“Oh, I couldn’t marry you,” he smirked.
“And why not?” he pouted that infamous Urie pout.
“Do you realize how short that sex was? I couldn’t marry someone with that kind of stamina, or lack thereof,” he chuckled.
“Fuck you, Alex Fratelli!” he sulked. “I’ve been out of action for a while, alright? Don’t be so mean...”
“I’m sorry Brendon, I shouldn’t be so picky. Generally I do prefer it that the guy comes after I’ve put my dick in him, but it’s all just unnecessary details.”

He was temporarily suffocated with a pillow, squealing to please Brendon, even though he knew he’d release within a few seconds anyway. Alex cared too much for him not to let him have his moments.

And when Brendon giggled, you knew something was going right.

“Can we be friends again, Alex?” he smiled softly, resting his head on his ex-boyfriends naked chest, humming as his hair was scraped back in stokes with Alex’s nails. “I need someone like you back in my life.”
He couldn’t say anything in response besides a simple ‘Yes’. All everyone ever wants is to be needed, and this fragile, barely reparable man needed him.
“Thanks, man,” he yawned and let his eyes flutter shut. “And can I stay for breakfast? I won’t be a nuisance, I promise. Well, I’ll try my hardest, okay?” he giggled. God damn, he thought. Today was a good day.
“Sure, B. Whatever you want.”
He thanked him again, before drifting into a gentle slumber, with the notion that now, now two people gave a damn. He had a person for each hand, to hold and clutch tightly to his heart.