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

They lay in that same position, bloody and battered, aching. He lay across her, his breathing heavy, chest rising with each exhalation. She stroked his forehead softly, sweeping the hair from his damp forehead. This wasn’t how things should have happened.
So much frustration, so much of everything was kept inside that it all tumbled out in a mess. His old best friend, the girl he’d loved, he’d beaten. He’d hit her and she’d bruise, purple and blue swellings smothering her body. It made him physically sick to look at the chaos he’d created. It killed him, and it made it even worse that she didn’t seem to mind. It killed him more.
He knew all of this was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t have lay a finger on her, he knew he shouldn’t have fucked Alex, he fucking knew he shouldn’t be laying here with Emma, letting her caress his pumping head. Rebecca would cry if she knew what he’d done.
“I didn’t mean to spiral out of control like that, I just, it’s just that, and sometimes-”
“Bren,” she cooed. “It’s alright.”
“No!” he squealed, sitting up quickly. “It’s not, is it? I hurt someone. You know how much I hate violence, especially after that thing with your dad,”
“You’re messed up. I don’t know what it is, but something isn’t right up there,” she smiled sympathetically, stroking the side of his face. “Somewhere up there is my bastard,”
He laughed a little, and it hurt, but it was a good kind of pain.
“Some tightly coiled up ball is inside me, Emma. Now it’s only a little looser, and I’m worried. I’m fucking petrified what’s going to happen when it all comes out,”
She pulled him in to a hug and he began to cry, warm, thick tears falling down his face. They soaked anything they fell on to, and this really wasn’t how Ezme had expected her return to play out. He was a broken man; it was as if there was a piece missing, but more exaggerated. It was more like every piece was missing except one.
“I don’t know what happened to me Emma. I think I’m happy but I really don’t know anymore. Everything is neutral. I care for her, y’know? I care for her so much but she likes me when I’m all Christian. How can I be Christian when I hurt a woman? How can I make her happy when I’m hugging you? She hates it when I’m like this with other women. And I was gay! I was gay at one point – how can I tell her that?” he sobbed.
She made soothing noises and held him closer, stroking his back ever so softly, pressing a single kiss to his neck as they shared an embrace. His sobbing turned into hyperventilating so she got him some water and a damp towel to cool down his forehead. She held his hand as he drank it and ever so slowly he calmed down to a normal rate.
“Urie, don’t worry. I can call her out here if you want, tell her you’re ill and you need some help. How about that?”
She knew it was erroneous. She knew that by calling Rebecca out here it’d only worsen his condition, but right now this is what he wanted. It’d take longer than a few days for him to realize what the real problem was, so it wouldn’t make too much of a difference just yet.
“Could you?” he sniffed, wiping his brow with the towel. “Oh I miss her Em,” he sighed, bringing his knees to his chest.

She nodded and sighed, walking out of the booth, shutting the door firmly before sitting down on the tiled floor next to Spencer.
“He wants his girl,” she mumbled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “He’s so confused, I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t understand him at all. At first I thought he could see what the real issue was, telling me that something was going to spill out, then he resorts to calling for Rebecca?”
“Hey,” he smiled, kissing her forehead. “I know he’s a difficult character to manage, but hopefully you’ll make your mark on him soon.”
“Shall I call her then?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, standing up and pulling her up with him. “I hope she likes you, because she can’t tolerate me one bit. At least it’s mutual,” he smirked and she smiled. “There we go, big smiles again,” he beamed, squeezing her cheeks.
She laughed and cuddled into him as she picked up Brendon’s cell, assuming she would be one on his speed dial, then held the phone to her ear. She waited.

Emma’s phone rang from her pocket, so she picked it up and answered, only to hear an echoed voice.

“I’m one on his speed dial...” she whispered to herself as she hung up both phones.
“You’re the person who’s most important to him. I told you – he views you like God.” said Spencer.
“But he said he hated me,”
“I guess, somewhere, he subconsciously knows you’re number one.”
“Force of habit, he must have forgotten to change it, you know how lazy he is,” she laughed nervously, pacing and flicking through his contacts. He couldn’t possibly think that, could he? He’d just beat her up, he’d hurt her; of course he didn’t love her anymore.

Love hurts.

“Hi, is this Rebecca?” she asked timidly.
“Yes... what are you doing with Brendon’s phone? Oh my goodness, is he hurt? Please don’t tell me he’s hurt,”
“No, he’s not hurt, don’t you worry. He’s just a little ill and emotional, so we were wondering if you could come out to see him for a few days...?”
“We were wondering? Who do you mean by ‘we’?”
“Myself, Spencer and Brendon,”
Rebecca licked her lips and stormed into the bedroom, hurriedly packing the bare essentials. “And who might you be?”
“My name is-”
Spencer did actions of cutting his neck and jumping around. She couldn’t tell Rebecca who she really was, because she would ban Brendon from seeing her otherwise. She couldn’t ban his only hope of recovery.
“-Hannah Birch,”
Spencer gave her a thumbs up and sighed with relief.
“Your name doesn’t ring any bells...”
“I’m just a friend of Brendon’s, we used to go to school together in Vegas and decided to meet up. Don’t worry though, I’m a lesbian, so I won’t try anything with Brendon,” she laughed.
“Alright. Tell him I’ll be there by midnight. And to keep his fluids up. And that I love him!”
“Will do,”

She hung up.

“You’re a pro!” chimed Spencer. “I crumble under those kind of situations. Well done, uh, Hannah,” he smiled.
“You’re all going to have to refer to me as that now, aren’t you? Christ,” she sighed and opened the door to the booth. “Brendon, I’m now called Hannah Birch,”
“Why?” he asked, wrinkling up his nose. She cursed herself for noticing how damn cute it was when he did that.
“Because Rebecca is coming.”