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The end of tour was always bittersweet, Dallon thought.
Yes, everyone was exhausted and, whether they wanted to admit it or not, growing sick of each other but Dallon knew he’d miss it the moment it ended. Fuck, even as he was leaving the stage after the band had taken their final bows he already missed it. Not everyone felt the same, Dallon thought as he noticed Brendon’s bright smile immediately drop the second his back was turned to the crowd. Dallon watched as Brendon shoved his way past everyone and went directly to the tour bus, something that was very out of character for the singer. Dallon’s concert high was instantly crushed and he didn’t know whether he should blame it on Brendon suddenly being an overdramatic dick or his anxiety questioning why Brendon was suddenly being an overdramatic dick.
“What’s up with him?” Mike snorted, coming up from behind Dallon and startling him.
“He’s probably just in one of his moods again, he’s been like this for a few weeks,” Dallon shrugged, not believing his own words. Sure, Brendon had been in kind of a funk the past two or so weeks but he seemed really off now, Dallon thought.
“I guess so… we should probably get to the bus before he pitches a fit,” Mike chuckled, his eyes sparkling with humor. Dallon smiled softly and followed the guitarist to the bus, his anxiety still lingering.
-
The ride to their hotel was awkward, Brendon not saying a word besides one or two “fuck off”s or “I’m fine”s. Dallon watched from the table in the kitchen area as Brendon stared out the window, his face still empty and his eyes dull. He was wearing earbuds and Dallon could hear the hum of music he was blasting from across the room. Almost as if he sensed it, Brendon turned to meet Dallon’s gaze. Dallon thought, and almost wished at this point, that Brendon would snap at him but the singer didn’t, turning back to the window after a moment of awkward eye contact. Dallon watched as Spencer entered the kitchen and stood up to greet him.
“Do you know where Zack is?” Dallon asked, staring down at Spencer as he searched through the lower cabinets for a snack. Spencer looked up, confused.
“ You’re looking for Zack? Why?” Spencer questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“Not for me, dumbass. I want to see if he knows what’s up with Brendon,” Dallon huffed, rolling his eyes.
“I think he’s driving in his car behind us, or maybe in front of us. I don’t know. He’s not here in this bus right now is what I’m trying to say,” Spencer clarified, standing up and retrieving a bag of Goldfish from the cabinet. Unsatisfied with Spencer’s answer, Dallon grabbed his arm before he could leave the kitchen. Spencer looked back and sighed. “Zack said to leave him alone until whatever this is passes. It happened sometimes in earlier tours before you were here…it’s just a Brendon thing I guess.”
“I know what his mood swings are like, I don’t think this is that,” Dallon warned, looking back at the gloomy singer.
“Dallon, you’re overthinking this. He’s probably just bummed out that tour is over and that’s why he’s being extra dramatic,” Spencer suggested, his eyes soft. Dallon sighed and nodded.
“Yeah, probably.”
-
Brendon stood patiently with the rest of the band in the hallway of their hotel as Zack passed out their room keys.
“Okay, this hotel doesn’t offer single rooms for some fucking reason so I booked three doubles, one of us can have the room to ourselves and the rest will just share-”
“Can I have the double to myself?” Brendon interrupted.
“I…sure. Why not, knock yourself out” Zack shrugged, tossing Brendon the keycard. Brendon caught it and shoved it in his pocket, stopping in his tracks as he turned towards his door.
“Uh, Dallon, can I borrow some of your sleeping pills? Sorry, I just can feel that I’m gonna have one of those ‘tired but not enough to fall asleep’ kind of nights,” Brendon stammered, avoiding eye contact.
“Uh, sure…and don’t apologize dude, what’s up with that?” Dallon assured him, retrieving his key from Zack and entering the hotel room, dragging his luggage in with him. Brendon followed him in and watched him go through his bag, waiting by the entrance with his hands in his pockets. “Here, do you want me to get you some water?” Dallon asked, handing Brendon the bottle. The singer examined the bottle like it was a loaded gun, which Dallon thought was weird but he decided to not say anything.
“Yeah water’s fine, thanks man” Brendon smiled softly. Dallon nodded, happy to see that Brendon was seemingly in a better mood. Maybe Mike and Spencer were right and he was just having a mood swing or was just exhausted from touring. The bassist went into the bathroom, looking for a mouthwash cup or something to fill with water.
“Hey B, I can’t find a cup or anything, I can run out to a vending machine-” Dallon called out, running straight into Brendon as he left the bathroom. Something rattled in Brendon’s hoodie pocket but the singer interrupted before Dallon could question it.
“It’s okay, I can just go get it myself. Thanks,” Brendon hummed, wrapping his arms around Dallon into an unusually emotional hug. Dallon hugged back, though his grip was less intense and he was hella confused.
“Don’t mention it… are you good?” Dallon tensed as he pulled away, his anxiety beginning to grow again. Brendon looked at him like he was stupid.
“Yeah I’m fine, tour’s over and I’m gonna miss you guys… I’m sorry if I’ve been a dick,” Brendon sighed, his eyes sad as he smiled warmly. Dallon’s heart melted even though he didn’t fully believe the singer.
“Oh wow, I’m gonna miss y’all too. And don’t worry, you haven’t been that much of a dick,” Dallon laughed, shoving Brendon’s shoulder playfully. Brendon chuckled and turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder.
“Goodbye Dallon,” he said softly, smiling faintly. Dallon’s heart skipped a beat.
“Goodbye? Where are you going?” Dallon repeated, alarmed and hiding his rising anxiety with a laugh. Brendon blinked, confused.
“You know what I meant dickhead,” Brendon teased, “Goodnight, dude.” As Brendon left, Dallon sank on the bed and sighed. Before Dallon could have a moment alone with his thoughts his phone buzzed. Dallon glanced down at his phone to read the text from Zack.
Zack
We’re all gonna hang out at the hotel bar if you and B want to join
A mere five seconds later Brendon answered.
Brendon U.
nah i’m okay but have fun
Dallon swallowed, pondering on whether or not he should meet them downstairs or not. A minute passed before he texted his decision.
Dallon
I’ll be right down
Zack
K
Dallon shoved his phone in his pocket and left his room, stopping by Brendon’s door as he headed down the hall. He raised his fist to knock on the door but dropped it, deciding to not bother the singer. They’d talk tomorrow, he decided.
- Later -
Dallon wiped a tear from his face, still recovering from his violent laughing fit as the rest of the band continued cracking jokes. Just as he was about to continue his incredibly embarrassing high school story, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Checking the notification he was surprised to see Brendon’s text flash up on his screen.
Brendon U.
can you come up
please
Part of Dallon wanted to ignore the singer and continue hanging with the band but his anxiety protested. His laughter faltered and his story trailed off as he reread Brendon’s texts.
“Uh… hold on…” Dallon stammered, texting Brendon back as his heart raced.
Dallon
Are you okay?
Brendon texted back almost instantly.
Brendon U.
please just come up
Dallon
Okay I’ll be right up
Dallon shoved his phone in his back pocket and stood up, sighing.
“What’s up?” Mike asked, his cheeks flushed from intoxication.
“I uh… I totally forgot I promised my family I’d Skype them tonight,” Dallon quickly lied as he made his way towards the exit of the bar, not even bothering to see if the band bought his lie.
-
As he stepped off the elevator, Dallon could feel his heart racing as he neared Brendon’s room. As he turned the corner and looked down the hallway his breath caught in his throat when he noticed Brendon’s door was slightly cracked open. He hurried down the hall, pausing at the singer’s door and peeking inside.
“Brendon, are you here?” he called out, his eyes darting around the room for any sign of him. No response. Anxiety rose in his stomach as he stepped into the seemingly empty hotel room. “Brendon?” he called out again, stopping in his tracks when he heard something come from the bathroom. As he neared, he could make out the very distinct sound of someone vomiting. Gasping, he flung the door open to see the singer bent over the toilet, wiping his mouth.
“Dallon,” Brendon croaked, his pale face stained with tears. Dallon looked at him in horror, falling to his knees to get on the singer’s level.
“Oh my god, are you okay? You look horrible,” Dallon worried, checking Brendon’s temperature.
“I’m such an idiot,” Brendon sobbed, burying his face in his shaky hands, “I fucked up so bad.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Dallon asked patiently, pulling Brendon’s hands away from his face so he could meet his gaze. Brendon averted eye contact, choking on his words.
“You… promise you won’t be mad?” he stammered, looking up at Dallon with guilt in his eyes.
“Why would I be mad?” Dallon faltered, looking over his friend. Brendon sniffed, his hands shaking as he took something out of his pocket. Dallon looked down, his stomach dropping as he noticed the empty pill bottle in his hand.
“Oh my god, what did you do?” Dallon gasped, his eyes wide with horror. Brendon cringed.
“You said you wouldn’t get mad,” Brendon whimpered, leaning against the wall as he breathed heavily. The bottle fell from his hand and clattered to the floor.
“That was before I found out you downed an entire bottle of pills,” Dallon hissed, clarifying his words when he saw Brendon’s sad expression, “And I’m not angry…but dude, what the fuck?”
“Dallon, y-you need to take me to the hospital, I don’t want to die,” Brendon croaked, shaking with fear.
“Then why-”
“Please, not now.”
“Okay, okay… I…I’m gonna call an ambulance-” Dallon spoke, stopping as Brendon’s eyes widened and he quickly sat up.
“NO. If anyone sees-”
“Who gives a fuck if anyone sees? Your life is much more important than your reputation,” Dallon scoffed, taking out his phone. Brendon shook his head furiously.
“Dallon, please…” Brendon pleaded. Dallon stayed quiet for a moment before sighing.
“How? We don’t have a car,” Dallon pointed out, shaking his head. Brendon thought for a moment.
“Zack has a car,” Brendon sniffed, looking at Dallon with hopeful eyes.
“You’re joking, right?” Dallon scoffed.
“Huh?”
“He fucking hates me, going to the hospital in a hot air balloon is more realistic,” Dallon grumbled sarcastically.
“We-we can make something up. I don’t care, make up the most embarrassing thing ever- just don’t make me go in an ambulance,” Brendon pleaded, his eyes shiny with tears. Dallon opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t think of anything to say. They didn’t have time for this.
“I…can you stand?” Brendon looked up at him before trying to do so on his own, his knees buckling almost immediately. Dallon caught him and helped him stand. As they turned to leave the bathroom Dallon stopped in his tracks, suddenly noticing a crumpled-up piece of paper lying by the bathtub. His heart shattered and his breath hitched. Brendon looked up and followed his gaze, tensing when he realized what Dallon was looking at.
“Ignore that.”
“Okay-” Dallon started, trailing off when he realized that there was no use in starting an argument, “Okay, let’s go.”
Leaving the room, Brendon left Dallon’s side to lean against the bed. The singer’s eyes were closed and his breathing came heavy and fast.
“Sorry, can we just…I need a moment,” Brendon apologized, rubbing his eyes. Dallon nodded and looked back towards the bathroom.
“I’m gonna get the bottle…they’ll have a better idea on how to help you if they know what you took…the doctors, I mean,” Dallon faltered as he stepped back into the bathroom before Brendon could object. He swiped the empty bottle and shoved it deep into his jacket pocket, grabbing Brendon’s note as well. Dallon looked at the note, resisting the urge to read it right there. Shaking his head and muttering to himself, he folded it neatly in his back pocket and headed back into the room to help Brendon.
Slowly the bandmates made their way down the hall, Dallon leading Brendon like he was a stumbling drunk. Brendon sniffled quietly as they rode the elevator down in silence, Dallon occasionally glancing over to make sure the singer was still standing and conscious.
Brendon staggered out of the elevator, Dallon catching him as he tripped over his feet and almost fell flat on his ass. The pair made their way to the bar, slowly approaching the band. Brendon lingered behind, leaning against a table while Dallon did the talking.
“Hey Zack, do you-” Dallon started, trailing off when Zack looked right past him at Brendon.
“You look horrible B, you good?” the bodyguard called out, his words slightly slurred by drunkenness. Brendon glanced at Dallon then back down at the ground.
“He said it was something he ate, I was gonna ask if I could borrow your car and go to a QuickChek to look for Pepto Bismol or something to settle his stomach,” Dallon lied, biting the inside of his cheek. Zack frowned and checked the time on his phone.
“It’s 3 AM, is it even open?” Zack tested him, looking back up with an unconvinced expression on his face.
“It’s open 24/7,” Brendon butted in, swallowing the rising lump in his throat. Zack scanned both men silently before sighing and reaching in his jacket pocket for the keys. Dallon internally sighed with relief as Zack tossed him the keys, catching them and shoving them deep in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Thanks, let’s go B,” Dallon nodded thankfully, softly rubbing Brendon’s back and leading him outside.
There was a surprising chill in the air as they left the hotel. Dallon unlocked the car as they approached, hurrying to open Brendon’s door for him before he reached the car. His heart lurched when he noticed the singer now looked paler than before and he seemed much slower. Helping him into the car, he held the door open before Brendon could close it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go in an ambulance? ‘Cause if you…” Dallon trailed off, not wanting to say what they were both thinking. He swallowed and continued, “If something happens when we’re on the highway or something I won’t know what to do.”
“I’m sure, now please get in the car before we waste anymore time,” Brendon weakly assured him, his dull brown eyes full of urgency. Dallon sighed and closed the door, walking around the car to his side and getting in the car. He turned it on and waited for the engine to catch before putting the car in reverse and driving out of the parking lot and onto the busy road.
-
Dallon nervously drummed the steering wheel, intensely staring at the red light as if it would make it turn green.
“This damn light won’t turn green,” Dallon muttered, trying to fill the awkward silence that lingered in the car. No response. Dallon turned to Brendon, whose eyes were now closed. “Brendon?” he said louder, tensing up. The bassist exhaled with relief when Brendon’s eyelids fluttered.
“Mhmm?”
“Nothing, I just thought… nevermind. Just try to stay awake, okay?” Dallon stammered, trying to hide the obvious shake in his voice. Brendon’s eyes opened a bit more and he grinned weakly.
“I wasn’t asleep,” he mumbled as he turned his head to look at Dallon, “the room-or the car, I guess-feels like it’s spinning.”
“Do you think you’re gonna be sick?” Dallon asked concerned, jumping when he heard the person driving the car behind obnoxiously beep the horn numerous times. He looked forward, not realizing that the light had turned green. He took his foot off the gas pedal and drove forward, now driving much faster than he had before.
“I don’t know,” Brendon said slowly, turning away to look out the window.
“Does anything hurt?” Dallon probed, noticing that Brendon was drifting off again.
“My stomach and head were KILLING me,” Brendon laughed, though there was no humor in his voice.
“ Were ?” Dallon echoed, quickly looking over at Brendon.
“Hmm?”
“You said were , do you feel better now?” Dallon repeated, a mixture of worry and hope in his voice. Brendon blinked as he processed Dallon’s words.
“I don’t feel anything…it’s like I’m having the worst high of my life,” Brendon mumbled. The small amount of hope in Dallon’s racing mind was instantly crushed. He put more weight on the gas pedal, now fifteen miles over the speed limit. Thinking quickly, Dallon cranked the volume of the radio, Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” blasting so loud it felt like the car was shaking. Brendon’s eyes instantly shot open and he covered his ears with his hands.
“What the fuck, Dallon? Are you trying to deafen me?” Brendon snapped, practically screaming over the music.
“What’s wrong, I thought you loved T-Swift,” Dallon yelled back, smiling. Although he was pissed, Brendon seemed more attentive and less likely to pass out and ultimately die on the freeway than before.
“Not when I feel like my ears are going to explode, fuck they’re ringing so loud I feel like I just stepped out of Saving Private Ryan ,” Brendon hissed, reaching to turn off the music. Dallon swatted his hand away but turned it down a bit himself, his ears beginning to ring.
“Sorry, I just wanted to keep you awake,” Dallon admitted as Brendon shifted angrily in his seat.
“Well it didn’t help, now the world is spinning AND I feel like I just went deaf,” Brendon muttered, leaning back in his seat.
“Sorry,” Dallon huffed, holding back a snippy comment.
“Whatever, just….how much longer?” Brendon shivered, changing the subject.
“Maybe another fifteen or twenty minutes, sorry,” Dallon cringed, seeing Brendon’s face fall.
“Fuck…Dallon, I don’t know if I can do it,” Brendon admitted, his voice shaking. “And I don’t think blasting music is gonna help,” he added. Dallon exhaled sharply, his knuckles white from his tight grip on the wheel. They were now twenty miles over the speed limit.
“Just hang on, okay? Please,” Dallon pleaded. His voice felt tight in his throat and his eyes stung with tears. They rode in silence for the next ten minutes, which felt more like hours to Dallon. He hummed nervously, looking at every road sign, desperate to find the exit for the hospital. He gasped when he saw it, crossing over two lanes of traffic to get to it.
“We’re almost there Brendon, just a few more minutes,” Dallon smiled, glancing over at Brendon. His smile faded when there was no response. He quickly looked back at the road then again at Brendon. “B?” he tried again more urgently. Nothing. The car came to a skidding halt as Dallon looked forward again, almost running a red light. Dallon’s heart hammered in his chest as he looked over the motionless passenger. Brendon’s eyes were now closed and even in the dim light of the car, Dallon could tell that his chest was still. Dallon panicked and slammed on the gas pedal, narrowly avoiding crashing into a passing car.
“Fuck, stay with me B,” he pleaded, holding Brendon’s limp hand with his other hand as he sped down the road. Seeing the hospital ahead, he switched lanes and drove towards the emergency room lot, honking furiously. Once by the doors, he parked the car and got out, almost falling over as he raced to Brendon’s side of the car.
“I NEED HELP, PLEASE!” he called out, opening Brendon’s door as doctors came out with a stretcher. He stepped back as they took Brendon from him and laid him down on the stretcher.
“What happened?” one of the EMTs asked coldly as she shone a small flashlight in Brendon’s eye.
“He-he took a bunch of pills-” Dallon trailed off as he watched another EMT put a breathing mask on Brendon while another checked his pulse. The world sounded muffled as his mind raced as the reality of what was happening came crashing in.
“Sir? Sir are you alright?” A female EMT asked, shaking Dallon’s shoulder. Dallon froze, watching them wheel the lifeless singer into the hospital.
“I…is he going to be alright?” he choked, blinking rapidly as tears began to blur his vision.
“We need to know what he took, do you know what kind of pills he ingested?” she asked patiently, looking into his eyes with a calming expression. He looked at her like she had spoken in another language before taking the bottle out of his pocket. His hands were shaking furiously as he handed her the bottle. “Was this it? Is there anything else we need to know?” she asked softly. Dallon sniffed and nodded, his breathing still shaky. “Okay, thank you, sir. I’ll have someone park your car while you come inside and answer some questions for us, okay?” Dallon nodded and followed her in, wincing at the bright interior lights of the hospital. He looked around wildly for a sign of Brendon as they made their way to the lobby, unable to find any trace of him.
“Is…is he going to be okay?” he stammered, “Don’t sugarcoat it, just tell me.” The nurse gave him a sad smile.
“We have excellent doctors working for us here. I can’t promise you anything but I assure you that your friend is in good hands,” she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder as he sat down in the waiting room. “Is there anyone you’d like us to call?” Dallon shook his head.
-
The next few hours felt like years to Dallon as he waited, spending the time with his racing thoughts and answering any questions the doctors had for him. As he went to check the time on his phone he realized that he had multiple missed calls from Zack, Mike, Spencer, and even his wife. He exhaled sharply and called back Zack, trying to hold back the sob in his throat as soon as he heard Zack’s voice.
“Where the fuck are you guys?” Zack fumed.
“The hospital,” Dallon said flatly, his voice emotionless and weak.
“The hospital? What the fuck happened? Is Brendon okay? Is he with you?” Zack repeated, the anger in his voice now *mostly* replaced with worry.
“I don’t know,” Dallon answered, his voice breaking. The other line went silent for a moment.
“What happened?” Zack finally spoke, his voice beginning to break as well. Dallon didn’t know what to say.
“He…he took my sleeping pills, a-all of them,” Dallon croaked, blinking back more tears.
“Wait, like to…” he trailed off.
“Yeah,” Dallon said flatly. There was more silence, though Dallon could hear mumbling through the phone, figuring Zack was telling everyone else what was going on.
“Where…what hospital?” Zack murmured. Dallon gave them the address and hung up, feeling another sob rise in his throat. As he shifted in his seat, he felt something in his back pocket. Confused he pulled out a folded piece of paper and examined it, his heart lurching when he realized what it was. Carefully unfolding it, he braced himself before he read.
Dear everyone,
By the time you’re reading this, I’m probably long gone. Sorry if it’s a mess or whatever, I’m not experienced in this field. You probably want me to shut the fuck up and get to the “why I did it” part now, right? I won’t waste your time anymore, meaning how long it will take you to read this and I guess outside of this corny-ass note as well. To be honest I don’t know why. I’m just done. I’m tired. I’ve waited forever for it to “get better” and I’ve realized that luxury isn’t meant for everyone. This inescapable numbness is too much and I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.
To the band, I waited until the end of tour to make sure you’d get your entire cut, though I’m sure you would have gotten it anyway. Thank you so much for all of this, you are like family to me and I will miss you guys so much.
To Sarah, I love you. I love you so much and I’m so sorry. Please try to move on and don’t let me ruin the rest of your life. You deserve better, you always have and I can’t believe you put up with me for this long. You’re the sweetest soul ever and I love you, take care of the pups for me.
Signed off, B
The paper fell from Dallon’s hands and his vision went blurry.
“Mr. Weekes?” a deep voice jolted Dallon from his trance and he looked up at the doctor standing in front of him. Dallon squinted, reading his nametag. Dr. Mayer.
“Yes?” Dallon said softly, his voice lined with worry.
“You’re here for…” Dr. Mayer read through the chart on his clipboard, “a ‘Brandon Urie’?”
“ Brendon , and yes, I am” Dallon corrected him, studying the doctor’s expression for any sign of sympathy or something that would suggest Brendon didn’t make it.
“I see, well Mr. Urie is recovering right now and will be transferred to a different room once he is stable enough,” Dr. Mayer explained, lowering his clipboard. Dallon sighed with relief, his eyes now flooding with happy tears.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, smiling. He glanced up at the doctor, “Can I see him?”
“I’m afraid it’s family only as of right now, I’m sorry,” Dr. Mayer apologized. Just before Dallon could object, he heard familiar voices shouting from down the hall. Spinning around, he watched as the Panic! crew burst into the lobby, looking around before locking eyes with Dallon and racing towards him.
“Oh god, Dallon! Is he-” Spencer cried, his voice hoarse.
“He’s okay,” Dallon interrupted, wrapping Spencer in a tight hug. Spencer gasped with relief and hugged back. As they broke away from each other, Dallon stepped back while the others bombarded the doctor with questions. Looking down at the ground, he noticed the fallen note and bent down to pick it up before anyone noticed. Part of him wanted to throw it away but he knew better, shoving it back into his pocket. Sensing that someone was now standing next to him, Dallon looked over to see Zack glowering at him.
“Can I talk to you in the hall?” Zack hissed, pulling Dallon with him before he could protest. “What the fuck?”
“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’? Do you think this is my fault?” Dallon laughed sarcastically, trying to keep his voice low.
“What the fuck was that bullshit Quickchek shit? Why the hell didn’t you call an ambulance?” Zack jeered, his eyes narrowing.
“He asked me to take him, probably ‘cause he knew you’d freak out and be more of an asshole than usual,” Dallon snorted. Zack just glared at him, his eyes full of rage.
“Well I hope it was worth it,” the bodyguard sneered, turning around. Dallon watched him walk away, letting his words soak into his skin and crush his soul. Sighing, he made his way to the exit of the hospital.
- The next day -
Dallon nervously fumbled with the flowers in his hand as he waited in his seat in the hospital lobby. The rest of the band was just as quiet and had not gotten a lot of sleep as well. Rubbing his tired eyes, Dallon looked around the empty waiting room for any sign of Brendon’s doctor.
“I don’t know if I can wait much longer,” Spencer muttered, the same nervous look on his face that he had last night.
“They’re just checking his vitals or something, I overhead the nurses talking… I’m sure we can go in soon,” Dallon said, both reassuring the drummer and himself. He looked down at his phone to read the clock; 11:34 AM. All heads turned as Dr. Mayer re-entered the room to meet the group.
“Visitation hours are from 11:30 AM to 3:00 PM and we strongly encourage there to be only one person in the room at a time,” Dr. Mayer spoke, scanning the faces of the group as they nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, you can follow me.”
-
“I don’t understand… is he in a coma or something?”
“Not quite, if he were in a coma we wouldn’t be able to tell when he would wake up,” the doctor explained. Dallon frowned and looked down at Brendon, watching his eyelids flutter in his deep sleep. He tried his best to ignore the machines the singer had been hooked up to and instead focused on his face, which was much less pale than it had been before. He placed the flowers on the bedside table.
“So he is going to wake up?” Spencer asked warily, looking down at Brendon for a moment before returning his gaze to the doctor.
“We expect him to wake up within the next three days and for him to make a full recovery within a week or so,” Dr. Mayer smiled. Everyone looked at each other.
“Is he going to be sent to like… a mental health clinic or something?” Mike asked, Zack interrupting before Dr. Mayer could speak.
“He’s being transported to one closer to LA, correct?” Zack clarified. Dr. Mayer nodded. Dallon’s heart felt like it was on the brink of shattering. The doctor looked around the room once more before turning towards the exit.
“I have to do my rounds, but if you have any other questions you know where to ask,” Dr. Mayer smiled, heading out the door. The gang all said their thanks and collectively sighed.
-
The day went by in a blur, everyone taking thirty-minute long turns to sit with Brendon while the rest sat outside. When Sarah arrived everyone agreed that she could spend the rest of visiting hours with him. Jealously ate at Dallon’s stomach when he overheard her being granted the privilege of being able to stay overnight.
The next day was the same; taking turns and sitting in silence in the waiting room or hospital dining hall. Dallon sat down with a huff next to Brendon’s bed as he began his second turn for the day. He held the singer’s hand, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb tenderly as he spoke.
“I… read your note. I know you didn’t want me to but…I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay and… fuck, B…why didn’t you tell us you were struggling?” Dallon sniffed. He felt like he was speaking into the void instead of to Brendon but it felt good to get it off his chest regardless. “I don’t want to blame you or anything…I think the last thing you need is to feel guilty or something…” Dallon trailed off, laughing sadly to himself. His face fell again and his expression turned serious. “I’m so sorry, B. You don’t deserve this.” He squeezed Brendon’s hand, blinking back tears.
His heart lurched when he felt him squeeze back.
Dallon sat up, his eyes wide. “Brendon? Can you hear me?” he gasped, watching Brendon’s face for any other sign of activity.
“Mmmm…” Brendon softly moaned, his eyes now barely open. He blinked softly and eyed the room slowly. His tired eyes rested on Dallon’s face and he smiled weakly.
“Hey,” he muttered quietly, “Long time, no see… what’s it been, like five hours?” His voice was hoarse and weak but it was music to Dallon’s ears. Dallon laughed, his chest warm.
“It’s been like a day or two, man,” Dallon smiled, studying Brendon’s face.
“Damn…” Brendon echoed, stretching a bit in his bed. He looked around the room again then back at Dallon. “Everyone else…? I assume they know at this point…right?”
“Yeah, they know. They’re outside, only one person is allowed in here at a time,” Dallon answered, grinning. He sat on the edge of Brendon’s bed, still holding his hand.
“That’s gay,” Brendon snorted, some strength returning to his voice. Dallon laughed through his nose. “Is Sarah here?” Dallon nodded.
“Yeah…she flew in yesterday.”
“Fuck…is she upset?” Brendon cringed. Dallon looked at him, dumbfounded.
“Of course she’s upset!” Dallon gawked. Brendon rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Well duh, I meant is she like really upset? Like is she pissed? Well, not pissed…I don’t think she’d be pissed, unless…” he stopped speaking, realizing he was rambling. Dallon was happy to see he was back to his talkative self.
“She’s definitely not mad,” Dallon reassured him, smiling. Brendon nodded, though his smile was beginning to fade. He broke away from Dallon’s grip and played with the hem of his blanket.
“You okay?” Dallon asked cautiously, noticing the shift in the room’s mood.
“We gotta talk about it, right?” Brendon breathed, averting eye contact. Dallon sighed, rubbing Brendon’s hand comfortingly. Brendon looked up at him.
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Okay…I mean, we have to eventually…”
“Just not now,” Dallon finished for him. Brendon smiled.
“Yeah, not now.”