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

She walked in to the booth and sat down in Brendon’s lap, draping her arms around his shoulders, leaning in to him. He gulped as she closed her eyes and moved marginally closer. He went with his instinct and awkwardly wrapped his arms around her.
“Why are you like this, Brendon?” she asked quietly.
“Like what?”
“You remember that kid, what was he called... Freddie? The one from high school, who was practically silent all the time, always looked as if he had something missing?”
“I think so,”
“Yeah, why are you like that?”
He looked up at Emma and sighed. “Everyone asks me that. I don’t know, okay? I’ve grown up since last time, you, you obviously haven’t,”
She sat up and looked at him, raising her eyebrows. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“I’m saying you’re immature,”
She stood up, backing away from him. “Me? You have the audacity to turn this back on me? If you call crawling back into your shell mature, then you the most mature guy I’ve set my eyes on. Did you ever think that there’s a difference between being a little lively and being immature? You used to be the first, but now, now you’re the latter,” she spat.
“How am I immature?” he shouted, standing up, the heat rising to his cheeks.
“Because you blame everyone but yourself! Because you can’t see what’s really in front of you, because you’re a fucking jerk!” she screamed and he grabbed her wrist, tightening his grip.
“Now listen here,” he snarled, holding her wrist above her head, puffing out his chest. “You know nothing about me. Who you knew and who I am now are two separate people. If you can’t accept that then I suggest you go, rather than being a whining little whore.”

She was taken aback. Never, ever, had Brendon spoken to her like that. She hadn’t thought he was capable of it, and by the look on his face, he hadn’t either.

“I came here in the first place to form some sort of truce. To see my good friend Spencer again. Instead I get this crap from you. And you forgot something,” she growled, snatching her arm away from him, pushing him to the recording room floor with a thud. “I was always the stronger one of us.”

She brushed her hands against each other and went to leave, but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her down with him. He took a firm grip of her hips and swung one leg over, so he was straddling her. His hands moved to her wrists again, holding them above her head on the floor.
“Why do you have to test me, huh?”
“There’s nothing to test. There’s a word for you kind of people,” she smirked.
“And what might that be?”
“Pussy.”

They didn’t really know what happened, but somehow he forced her against the wall, making her groan in pain as she heard her bones click. He had fistfuls of her shirt in his hands, hoisting her up. Pure rage was in his eyes, despite the fear in hers.
“Don’t you even dare call me that,” he whispered, his face mere millimeters from hers.
She thrust her knee forwards into his crotch and temporarily forgot it was Brendon, punching him across the jaw and kicking him back down to the floor, smirking as he whined, cupping himself.
“Oh, good to see it still exists, I thought your dick had completely disappeared!” she snarled. “You’ve yet to grow a pair though, have you Urie? You’d never hurt me,”
Emma bent down by his side, sighing and pushing her hair back.
“I could hurt you if I wanted,” he mumbled, rubbing the sore area on his cheek.
“Go ahead. Hurt me all you fucking want.”

He looked up at her, his chest heaving, and he took a swipe at her cheek. Then he took another and another, becoming rougher and less precise with his punches as his glasses fell and shattered beside her. He would have continued had he not been thrown across the room.

“What the actual fuck Brendon? How much of a dick can you get?” screamed Spencer, pulling a bloody Emma into a hug. “You’re crazy! You deserve to be locked up!”
“No,” she muttered. “I had it coming.”
“What? You’ve brain damaged her too Bre-”
“I’m not brain damaged. I’ve got a split lip but I’ll be fine,” she smiled and hugged the friendly giant, slowly letting go of him and walking over to a sweat drenched Brendon. She knelt beside him and kissed his forehead.
“I hate you,” he breathed.
“I know. I hate you too Brendon.”