You Can't Leave This World Behind (It's Just Not Your Time To Die) [s/a]
Title: You Can't Leave This World Behind (It's Just Not Your Time To Die) [s/a]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death
Pairing: Jondon
POV: 1st, Jon's
Summary: "Jon... Brendon's been in an accident," comes Spencer's calm voice over the phone. "He's in a coma."
Word Count: 1,234
Disclaimer: Entirely created from the recesses of my own diseased and fragmented brain case. This is what snorting word dust will do to you. :D Oh, and don't Google yourselves. Ever.
Beta: ezdeeppornkittn
Author Notes: For the prompt "coma" on my hc_bingo card. More at the end.
When I got the call, I freaked, booking the first flight out of Chicago. What was I supposed to do?
Brendon was in a coma for godsakes.
Zack picked me up at the airport, telling me that it wasn't as bad as it sounded as he drove us to the hospital. He said the doctors were doing their best, that Brendon would wake up soon.
He led me up to the ICU waiting room where Spencer, Ryan, Shane, and Brendon's mom sat in big plush chairs. Waiting. For something, for anything. Grace stood and gave me a hug, kissing my cheek and telling me to shave before sending me off towards Brendon's room.
I didn't have to ask for Ryan and Spencer to come with me; they just knew.
Inside the room, it was nothing I hadn't seen before: tubes and wires, metal and plastic. It smelled clean, too clean, like disinfectant and bleach. It was eerily quiet too; sure the machines whirred and clicked, the ventilator whooshed as it pumped air, but the last time I had been in the ICU, heart monitors still beeped comfortingly with every last beat of a heart.
Now there was only silence, and it was frightening, deafening.
I finally, finally looked at Brendon, his tiny little body, his tiny little face, tubes and wires going in and out of him everywhere. His skin was pale except for the dark purple patches under his eyes, his lips almost too red in the surrounding white and grey environment.
I wanted to cry, but all I could do was grip the bed railing and stare.
"The doctors say his vitals look good, that he has a good chance of pulling through alright," Ryan muttered from the foot of the bed, long fingers curled around the plastic footboard. "He-he should wake up within the next two days."
I knew Ryan too well to not hear the tone in his voice that said he didn't believe a single word of it. He had too much experience with hospitals.
"There's really not much we can do except be here," Spencer added from my side, grabbing Brendon's hand - when did everyone get so thin? - and squeezing it.
"What happened?" I dared to ask.
"Car wreck," Spencer replied after a pause in which I assumed he shared a look with Ryan. "He was hitching a ride to the store with Shane. An SUV hit them at an intersection, ran a red light."
"Shane walked away without a scratch. Brendon must have hit his head on impact," Ryan finished for Spencer, shifting his weight.
"Drunk driver?" I wondered aloud.
I could see Spencer shrug out of the corner of my eye. "Dunno. They took off."
I reached out to brush Brendon's hair from his forehead and, sure enough, there was a nasty bruise blooming across his temple and up into his hairline.
"Attention, visitors. Visiting hours are now over..."
***
Spencer and I went back to Ryan's house from the hospital that night. Somewhere safe and empty, somewhere we could keep each other company so that none of us broke down. Somewhere that didn't remind us too much of Brendon.
We had several rounds of beer each in the span of only a couple of hours, watching movies and trying to keep our spirits up. It worked, mostly.
Once we were so trashed we couldn't keep our eyes open, we tried to fall asleep in separate beds, in separate rooms, but ended up feeling much more comfortable curled into each other on Ryan's king sized bed.
It didn't quell the painful twinge in my heart that said something's missing.
***
Brendon didn't wake up the next day.
***
He didn't wake up the day after that, either.
***
"He still has a chance of a full recovery," I overheard the doctor telling Grace on the fourth day. "Some people just take longer to come around." I could hear the blind hope in his voice and wished for anything but this.
If Brendon was going to die, God, do it sooner rather than later.
I knew Brendon wouldn't want to suffer like this. I sure as hell didn't want to either.
***
The next two days went by even faster than the last three.
Day seven - had it really been a whole week already? - and Grace had already made the decision to take Brendon off life support. He was still in a coma.
There was excessive swelling and hemorrhaging in his brain that they couldn't fix.
He was practically brain dead.
Even if he did come to, which wasn't likely, he wouldn't be Brendon anymore.
People swarmed the hospital in hordes. Everyone and their mother came out to say good-bye to Brendon. All of Brendon's siblings and in-laws, nieces and nephews, even a few cousins. The majority of Fueled By Ramen. Even Andy and both Nicks were there, touching Brendon's shoulder and muttering solemn good-byes, even though they didn't know him as well.
I couldn't do it.
I waited until the very last minute to say good-bye, when I was the only other person in the room, and still no words wanted to come out. I didn't want this to be real.
I sighed and took Brendon's hand, swollen stiff and too warm. "I love you, Brendon," I choked out, staring at the way his eyelashes rested against the top of his cheekbones. "I don't want to say good-bye, but it looks like I'll have to. I don't want you to go."
Vaguely, I could hear the sounds of the hospital carrying on as usual just beyond the sliding door. Life goes on.
Leaning in, I brushed Brendon's hair back from his forehead and kissed his eyebrow, just above the years old scar of unknown origin. "You're a great friend, Brendon," I whispered, breath hitching a little. "And an even better boyfriend."
I turned my back and walked away then, numb. Outside the door, Spencer was waiting with worried eyes and open arms.
I broke down right there. Right there in the hallway of the ICU, in front of Ryan, Spencer, and Grace, I began to sob like a small child. Spencer quickly stepped forward and wrapped me in his arms, letting me cry on his shoulder as he held me tightly.
"Shh, it'll be alright. It's better for him this way," Spencer breathed into my hair, rubbing my back slowly. "Shh, Jon, Jon."
I kind of just wanted to die myself.
***
"In other news, the lead singer of Panic! at the Disco, twenty-three year old Las Vegas native, Brendon Urie, died this morning due to complications after a car accident-"
The TV suddenly went black, and I looked up to find Ryan with the remote in his hand.
"I was watching that," I complained, but there was no tone in my voice. No emotion. No life.
Ryan shook his head. "You shouldn't."
I looked away from him and something must have shown on my face because he plopped down next to me on the couch, pulling me close. I didn't fight him.
"I know I'm not as good as Spencer at the comforting thing, but..."
I clung to him desperately, burying my face in his neck. Ryan sighed and rested his head against mine.
We were quiet, and I felt hope begin to burn low in my stomach.
Maybe life really could go on.
-----------------------------------------
A/N: Yes, most of this is based on my ex-boyfriend and best friend of seven years, Nate, passing away at the beginning of July this year. Jon's goodbye 'speech' is actually pretty much what I said to Nate before they took him off life-support.
When I saw "coma" on my card, I had to write this. I needed to get it out.
More of my work here.
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death
Pairing: Jondon
POV: 1st, Jon's
Summary: "Jon... Brendon's been in an accident," comes Spencer's calm voice over the phone. "He's in a coma."
Word Count: 1,234
Disclaimer: Entirely created from the recesses of my own diseased and fragmented brain case. This is what snorting word dust will do to you. :D Oh, and don't Google yourselves. Ever.
Beta: ezdeeppornkittn
Author Notes: For the prompt "coma" on my hc_bingo card. More at the end.
When I got the call, I freaked, booking the first flight out of Chicago. What was I supposed to do?
Brendon was in a coma for godsakes.
Zack picked me up at the airport, telling me that it wasn't as bad as it sounded as he drove us to the hospital. He said the doctors were doing their best, that Brendon would wake up soon.
He led me up to the ICU waiting room where Spencer, Ryan, Shane, and Brendon's mom sat in big plush chairs. Waiting. For something, for anything. Grace stood and gave me a hug, kissing my cheek and telling me to shave before sending me off towards Brendon's room.
I didn't have to ask for Ryan and Spencer to come with me; they just knew.
Inside the room, it was nothing I hadn't seen before: tubes and wires, metal and plastic. It smelled clean, too clean, like disinfectant and bleach. It was eerily quiet too; sure the machines whirred and clicked, the ventilator whooshed as it pumped air, but the last time I had been in the ICU, heart monitors still beeped comfortingly with every last beat of a heart.
Now there was only silence, and it was frightening, deafening.
I finally, finally looked at Brendon, his tiny little body, his tiny little face, tubes and wires going in and out of him everywhere. His skin was pale except for the dark purple patches under his eyes, his lips almost too red in the surrounding white and grey environment.
I wanted to cry, but all I could do was grip the bed railing and stare.
"The doctors say his vitals look good, that he has a good chance of pulling through alright," Ryan muttered from the foot of the bed, long fingers curled around the plastic footboard. "He-he should wake up within the next two days."
I knew Ryan too well to not hear the tone in his voice that said he didn't believe a single word of it. He had too much experience with hospitals.
"There's really not much we can do except be here," Spencer added from my side, grabbing Brendon's hand - when did everyone get so thin? - and squeezing it.
"What happened?" I dared to ask.
"Car wreck," Spencer replied after a pause in which I assumed he shared a look with Ryan. "He was hitching a ride to the store with Shane. An SUV hit them at an intersection, ran a red light."
"Shane walked away without a scratch. Brendon must have hit his head on impact," Ryan finished for Spencer, shifting his weight.
"Drunk driver?" I wondered aloud.
I could see Spencer shrug out of the corner of my eye. "Dunno. They took off."
I reached out to brush Brendon's hair from his forehead and, sure enough, there was a nasty bruise blooming across his temple and up into his hairline.
"Attention, visitors. Visiting hours are now over..."
***
Spencer and I went back to Ryan's house from the hospital that night. Somewhere safe and empty, somewhere we could keep each other company so that none of us broke down. Somewhere that didn't remind us too much of Brendon.
We had several rounds of beer each in the span of only a couple of hours, watching movies and trying to keep our spirits up. It worked, mostly.
Once we were so trashed we couldn't keep our eyes open, we tried to fall asleep in separate beds, in separate rooms, but ended up feeling much more comfortable curled into each other on Ryan's king sized bed.
It didn't quell the painful twinge in my heart that said something's missing.
***
Brendon didn't wake up the next day.
***
He didn't wake up the day after that, either.
***
"He still has a chance of a full recovery," I overheard the doctor telling Grace on the fourth day. "Some people just take longer to come around." I could hear the blind hope in his voice and wished for anything but this.
If Brendon was going to die, God, do it sooner rather than later.
I knew Brendon wouldn't want to suffer like this. I sure as hell didn't want to either.
***
The next two days went by even faster than the last three.
Day seven - had it really been a whole week already? - and Grace had already made the decision to take Brendon off life support. He was still in a coma.
There was excessive swelling and hemorrhaging in his brain that they couldn't fix.
He was practically brain dead.
Even if he did come to, which wasn't likely, he wouldn't be Brendon anymore.
People swarmed the hospital in hordes. Everyone and their mother came out to say good-bye to Brendon. All of Brendon's siblings and in-laws, nieces and nephews, even a few cousins. The majority of Fueled By Ramen. Even Andy and both Nicks were there, touching Brendon's shoulder and muttering solemn good-byes, even though they didn't know him as well.
I couldn't do it.
I waited until the very last minute to say good-bye, when I was the only other person in the room, and still no words wanted to come out. I didn't want this to be real.
I sighed and took Brendon's hand, swollen stiff and too warm. "I love you, Brendon," I choked out, staring at the way his eyelashes rested against the top of his cheekbones. "I don't want to say good-bye, but it looks like I'll have to. I don't want you to go."
Vaguely, I could hear the sounds of the hospital carrying on as usual just beyond the sliding door. Life goes on.
Leaning in, I brushed Brendon's hair back from his forehead and kissed his eyebrow, just above the years old scar of unknown origin. "You're a great friend, Brendon," I whispered, breath hitching a little. "And an even better boyfriend."
I turned my back and walked away then, numb. Outside the door, Spencer was waiting with worried eyes and open arms.
I broke down right there. Right there in the hallway of the ICU, in front of Ryan, Spencer, and Grace, I began to sob like a small child. Spencer quickly stepped forward and wrapped me in his arms, letting me cry on his shoulder as he held me tightly.
"Shh, it'll be alright. It's better for him this way," Spencer breathed into my hair, rubbing my back slowly. "Shh, Jon, Jon."
I kind of just wanted to die myself.
***
"In other news, the lead singer of Panic! at the Disco, twenty-three year old Las Vegas native, Brendon Urie, died this morning due to complications after a car accident-"
The TV suddenly went black, and I looked up to find Ryan with the remote in his hand.
"I was watching that," I complained, but there was no tone in my voice. No emotion. No life.
Ryan shook his head. "You shouldn't."
I looked away from him and something must have shown on my face because he plopped down next to me on the couch, pulling me close. I didn't fight him.
"I know I'm not as good as Spencer at the comforting thing, but..."
I clung to him desperately, burying my face in his neck. Ryan sighed and rested his head against mine.
We were quiet, and I felt hope begin to burn low in my stomach.
Maybe life really could go on.
-----------------------------------------
A/N: Yes, most of this is based on my ex-boyfriend and best friend of seven years, Nate, passing away at the beginning of July this year. Jon's goodbye 'speech' is actually pretty much what I said to Nate before they took him off life-support.
When I saw "coma" on my card, I had to write this. I needed to get it out.
More of my work here.