Brendon Urie Imagines and Smuts

*REQUESTED* Just Listen To My Voice (Fluff)

Request: Can you do an imagine where Brendon stops Y/N from committing suicide?

*MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING*

Y/N POV:

I've tried so hard to fight it. I've spent years battling the voices in my head that constantly tell me I'm not good enough. For years they've plagued me, just when I think I'm finally doing good, they come back to haunt me. It's a never ending war and it's a war I'm losing.

It all started when I was bullied in High School. Believe it or not, I used to be confident. I would answer any question that the teacher asked and I'd be the first to volunteer for something. But that's when the bullying started. I was the school nerd, the one that would kiss up to all the teachers and would do homework the same day it was set. At first, I was able to take their comments on the chin. But then, it got more personal. They would make their attacks more personal and start bringing my family into it. It was relentless. They called me fat, so I started to lose weight but it didn't stop them, they just found a new insult.

Then, I met Brendon. I thought the bullying had stopped, I'd suddenly become a little bit more popular. Dating Brendon certainly helped, for a while. Then came the torment from so called "fans". They would send hate comments on all my posts, regardless of whether they were selfies or not. At first, I took it on the chin and told myself that there were always going to be people who were unkind. But then the messages came in their thousands and it became harder to ignore.

"Brendon doesn't love you, he's just using you"
"You're an ugly waste of space"
"Why don't you just kill yourself"

I stare at the last comment and I'm in a state of disbelief. How can someone actually write something like that? But, maybe they're right. Maybe Brendon doesn't really love me. He has been a little bit distant lately, not as affectionate. Maybe I am just a waste of space, I don't have a proper job. All I do is watch Rick and Morty or Bob's Burgers all day. What is my purpose in life?

I delete the comment and scroll through the comments of another photo on my instagram. I reply to a few, mainly asking where my clothes are from. But then the same familiar messages pop up.

"Just die, nobody cares about you"

This time, tears rush to my eyes and I blink hard, trying to stop them from running down my face. Maybe they're right, what point is there of me carrying on?

It's all thoughts I used to have anyway. I always used to think that things would be so much better without me.

Brendon: I won't be home for a while, I'm caught up at the studio

Brendon's text notification shakes me out of my thought. I go to type a reply but think better of it. If he's not going to be back for a while, what's to stop me from doing something?

Searching through the medicine cabinet, I find a couple of bottles of pills. I don't bother to look at what they are, I just rattle them to make sure they're full. Then, I head to the kitchen and fill up a glass of water. I head to my bedroom and sit there, staring at the pills. I scroll through my instagram again and can't help but think 'you win' as I read the hate comments.

I stare at my phone, debating whether or not I should send a final message to Brendon. Part of me says no, because I don't want to be the last thing he hears from me. Part of me says yes, because he deserve an explanation.