Brendon Urie Imagines and Smuts

*REQUESTED* NO (Fluff)

Request: Can you do an imagine where Y/N loses her Mom and then starts self harming. Brendon walks in on her and stops her.

*MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING* *PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION*

Y/N POV:

I haven't done it since I was around 16. It was the hardest thing to stop but I managed it. After a while, things were okay. Great, even. I met the nicest guy in the whole world, Brendon and I began my dream career, travel blogging. I guess you could say I've had a decent life. That is, up until now.

It happened out the blue. She hadn't been ill, she felt completely fine. In fact, we both went for a jog the night before it happened. I think that's why it's affected me so much. One minute she was there, laughing about how she was faster than me. The next minute, I'm getting a call to say she's passed away. Even now, a month later, I begin to cry as I remember that conversation with my Dad. After he said those words, I dropped to the floor and everything became a blur. He was still talking, but I wasn't taking in anything he said. Brendon came home and found me on the floor, staring into space. It took him ages for him to finally get it out of me and when I did, he held me. We must have spent a couple of hours just sat on the floor in each other's arms. 

Since then, things have gone downhill. I'm barely sleeping, every time I close my eyes I see her face. I spend most of the night pacing round the house, doing anything I can to distract myself. But of course, nothing works. I'm barely eating, I'll just play around with the food on my plate, taking a few nibble here and there. My relationships with people are becoming strained. I suppose that's what happens when I start to isolate myself from people, they soon start to lose interest. 

That's why I started doing it again. I've tried so many things to get rid of the pain. I had a few therapy sessions but I became too uncomfortable talking about things, so I stopped that. I've tried going to the gym, letting the endorphins try to help. I've tried planning some more trips for my blog, but even that doesn't interest me. I shouldn't have started it, I know that. When I started when I was a teenager, it took years for me to quit it. But, it's the only thing I know that gives me immediate release. It allows me to feel something other than overwhelming sadness.

"I'll be back later, okay? I love you" Brendon kisses me on the cheek before heading out the door. He's only recently started leaving me on my own. He's been so worried about me that he monitors me most of the time and if he has to go out, he'll get Kenny or Zack to come round. It's sweet to know how much he cares, but it's so suffocating at times. It means I have to be extra sneaky.

I lay on the sofa for a while, scared he'll come back in, saying that it doesn't feel right leaving me. But after 30 minutes, I figure that it's safe enough. Throwing the blanket off me, I head up to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. I don't even recognise the person in front of me anymore. My once healthy-looking hair is dead and my skin looks so dry. The problem is, I don't have the motivation to care. What's the point anymore?

Reaching into the cabinet, I pull it out and turn it over in my hand. Why do I rely on this little bit of metal so much? How can something so cold be so comforting at the same time? Sitting on the edge of the bath, I carry on staring at it. In my head, I try to come up with good enough reasons to not do it, to kick the habit once and for all. But, my mind draws a blank.

An hour passes by without me realising, that's been happening a lot lately. I space out and time races by. Taking the piece of metal in between my fingers, I take a deep breath before doing what I always do. But this time, there's more behind it. More anger. More desperation. I'm so wrapped up in what I'm doing, I don't hear my phone ping with a text from Brendon, telling me he's 5 minutes away.

Five minutes passes and I'm still so wrapped up in it that I don't hear the front door open and close. I don't hear Brendon calling out to me, his voice growing more concerned each time. I don't hear him bounding up the stairs. But, I do hear him knocking desperately on the bathroom door, threatening to break it down if I don't open it.

I quickly hide the blade in it's usual place and do what I can to clean up the mess, but there's too much of it.

"Y/N, last chance then I'm breaking down the door" Brendon calls out, hammering on the door with his fist.

"Okay, one minute" I reply, my voice weak.

"No, now!" He says and that's when he does it. With a few kicks, the door has been broken down and his face pales when he looks from me, to the floor and back to me again.

"What have you done Y/N?"He says, going into robot mode. He wets a towel and wraps it around my wrist and finds another one for my other wrist.

"I thought it would help" I reply, my voice monotone. 

*A Few Hours Later*

"Okay, the psych has said it's okay for her to go home. But, they'll be a follow up call tomorrow, it's likely she'll be heading into therapy" The Doctor says before leaving the room. Brendon doesn't speak as he helps me put my jacket on.

The car ride home is beyond awkward, he doesn't speak at all. He just focuses straight ahead, his hands gripping the wheel really tight. When we get home, I try to head straight upstairs but he stops me.

"I know what you're going to say, but save it. I'm tired, Brendon" I say, but he doesn't loosen his grip on me.

"You don't know what I'm going to say. You probably think I'm annoyed, that I want to break up with you. But, you're wrong. I'm annoyed, yes but not with you, I'm annoyed with myself. I should have done more to help you, I shouldn't have left you. I'm scared Y/N, I'm so terrified. I don't want to lose you, I can't lose you. That's why I'm going to do anything it takes to help you get better. I'll take you to all your appointments and I'll be here for you. I never want you to think you can't talk to me, okay? I love you and the thought of life without you.." His voice cracks, so he doesn't finish the sentence. He just pulls me into his arms, holding me tight.

"I love you Brendon" I whisper.

"Y/N, you know that you're going to have to let me get rid of it, right?" He asks and I nod slowly. I show him where it is and he quickly grabs it, probably scared I'm going to do it right there and then. He throws it into the toilet and I stare as he flushes it away. I'm filled with a mix of relief and sadness. 

"We can do this, okay? You are not alone" He pulls me close to him again and gives me a gentle kiss. For the first time in ages, I finally believe that I'm not alone.

If you guys ever need anything, I'm here for you. I really mean it x