OCTOBER 5, 2004
It's early in the morning-that much Brandon is aware of. The second thing he is aware of is how chilly their hotel room is. This must be due to Ronnie's habit of wanting the windows open and he should be used to it by now, but some sort of cold front must have blown through overnight. Everyone has their own little quirks, he supposes, and he should be thankful that Ronnie's is only his affinity for open windows. Brandon doesn't say anything despite how mildly bothered he is by it, whether the source of that annoyance be the fluctuating temperature or the fear that some stranger might be too interested in the call of an open window.
Either way, the third thing that Brandon is aware of is the knocking on the door.
He ignores it for a moment longer, figuring that it is a maid who has come to inquire about fresh linens or something. Brandon would much rather stay in bed with Ronnie because here, under the comforter, it is warm.
But something is wrong. The knocking is too hurried to be a maid and it's too early for a maid. Brandon would know. He's been in a lot of hotels.
The fourth thing that Brandon notices-or rather what he realizes-is that he has places to be. Obligations. He can't just lie here forever. He has to open that door.
He has to pry Ronnie off of him to get out of bed and answer the door. It's Jeremy-no surprise there-and he is completely unfazed by the state of Brandon's dress or the fact that he's half asleep.
"Is your phone dead?" Jeremy asks. The man peers into the room as if that will answer his question, but Brandon finds himself leaning to block his view. "Either that or you're both deaf."
"Sorry," Brandon mutters, wiping his eyes.
Jeremy is nothing if not kind, and smiles. "It's alright. Everyone's got to be up and ready to take some photos and head to AOL at eight."
"What time is it now?" Brandon asks.
Jeremy snorts, "Six-thirty."
Brandon moans, "Jesus, okay. You couldn't have given me another thirty minutes?"
"I'll leave you alone, now," Jeremy shrugs. "Just be in the lobby by eight."
He leaves after that and Brandon returns to the bed. He sits on the edge, blinking slowly at his hands. Six-thirty. He could go back asleep if he wanted to, but there isn't much point.
Ronnie hums a suppressed yawn and reaches out for him. Brandon's spot in the bed is empty and Ronnie finds nothing at the end of his grasp. Sensing the moment, Brandon turns slightly, resting one leg on the bed and letting the other dangle off. Ronnie's eyes are cracked open now and Brandon can tell that he's pleased with himself despite how early it is. His hand looks out of place there, empty on the bed. Brandon knows that he should do something about that but he doesn't.
"Was that Perm?" Ronnie asks, yawning again, "With the wake-up call?"
Brandon hums an affirmative. "Do you think he ever notices that only one of the beds is unmade?"
The bed closer to the window is in pristine condition, totally untouched by either of them. When Brandon glances back at Ronnie, the man is giving him one of those looks. Like, seriously? This early in the morning? You're starting now? But Brandon can't help but wonder.
"That doesn't matter," Ronnie says, tucking his arms back in. Brandon wonders if he's cold, too.
"It matters to me," he responds.
"We're not doing anything, though," Ronnie points out. It's technically true, but the notion of someone finding out about their situation makes him feel uneasy. Maybe it's because whatever it is that they're not doing is still more serious than anything else Brandon has ever toyed with.
YOU ARE READING
Hopeless Haze - Volume I: Hot Fuss (Remastered)
Romansa"If Brandon cared, he would wonder if Ronnie was also deep in thought about something and has only just absentmindedly found something for his hands to play with. But as Ronnie runs his fingers through his hair, Brandon finds that he does not care a...
