Fuck this, Brad thought as he rode home in the backseat of the taxi. Why did I stop him? It would do me some good to get laid. I should've...maybe if I had...what if...
There go the 'what if's. What if this, what if that. Brad felt like his brain was turning into one huge lump of mashed potatoes. Mashed potatoes. Huh. Brad could go for some mashed potatoes right now. Any potatoes, really. Or maybe some fries. Yeah, fries.
Brad shook his head to try to get his alcohol-filled mashed potato brain back on track. Right.
And when the taxi stopped and Brad paid the driver and got out outside his home, he may have been wobbly in his steps. But he honestly didn't even notice. And he managed to unlock his front door and flop down on his couch. And when he pulled out his phone and texted 'I like you' to the guy who had been on his mind all night, he didn't realize what he was doing.
And he fell asleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brad woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, really in need of some Gatorade or McDonald's or all of the above. He checked his phone with bleary eyes.
And almost had a heart attack.
He praised every deity that was watching over him last night when he had typed out that drunken message - because it didn't send. He was looking at a notification on his screen that said: Message Failed to Send: "I like you."
Thank god. Subpar phone connection had just saved him from a very embarrassing moment. And conversation.
So he deleted that message faster than he thought was possible.
Brad got up from the couch with some difficulty, feeling like he was 50 and complaining about a bad back or bad legs or sore muscles. He made his way over to his refrigerator, shuffling his feet over the floor. He opened the fridge and was reaching for bread and butter when someone burst into his house and he jumped so violently that he thought his head might hit the ceiling.
"What the fuck?" Brad exclaimed, picking the tub of butter up off of the floor and turning around to see the intruder.
Well, there were actually three of them. His three bandmates, looking stupidly happy and awake.
"Why are you here? I just woke up," Brad said with a scowl.
Brad was surprised that Connor's face-splitting grin could get any wider. "It's noon, Brad. You only just woke up? Are you hungover?"
Brad gave him a deadpan look. "Do I seem hungover?"
James laughed in response. "Very."
"I was going to eat some food, if you don't mind," Brad replied.
"Wait, so if you're hungover..." Tristan started.
"...then that means he probably went out last night..." Connor added.
"He went somewhere without us!" James concluded.
"Too loud, James, too loud," Brad grumbled.
"Why didn't you let us know?" James asked. "Hell, I would have gone with you. I'm sure we all could have gone."
Brad sighed. "Well I didn't think you would have wanted to go to a gay bar with me." He didn't even remember that he hadn't come out to James yet.
But he certainly remembered when James looked surprised.
James turned to Connor and Tristan, and he must have been expecting similar surprised expressions, but he did not find any. "Gay bar?" he questioned.
Brad was making himself some toast, getting out a knife and spreading an obscene amount of butter onto the bread. "Yeah, I'm gay, hooray."
"That's great," James said. "But apparently these two already knew. Guess I'm last."
"Hope you don't mind," Brad said with a yawn.
"Well, I guess not," James responded.
"I would have gone with you..." Tris said, out of the blue.
Brad had already forgotten the context. "Huh?"
"I would have gone to the bar with you. I'm sure there'd be a bunch of hot guys," Tristan affirmed.
"Right," Brad said stoically. "And you'd have picked them all up and left none for me."
Tris laughed and Connor joined with a chuckle.
"So!" Connor said excitedly. "Now that we've all had a coming-out bonding experience, let's make our plans for the day!"
Brad took his toast and plopped back down on the couch. "Why are you in my flat?"
Connor followed him. "Because!"
"Not a good answer," Brad said as he rolled his eyes and then took a bite of his toast.
"We thought we could do something today," James explained. "We haven't done anything all together in a while. Besides, like, practice. We need to do something fun."
"In case you couldn't tell, I'm not in the best mood," Brad clarified. "I don't think I'm feeling up to it."
"Brad, don't use that excuse again," Tristan said.
"Well excuuuuuuse you," Brad replied. "Sorry that I haven't been feeling amazing. You don't get to tell me what to feel."
Tris's brows furrowed. "...Fine."
"My head is pounding and I really can't deal with any shit right now," Brad snapped.
"Shit? Oh, so I'm just spouting shit?" Tris started to get angrier. "Sorry if what I'm saying doesn't matter to you."
Connor and James were looking between the two boys like they were watching a tennis match. "Guys, stop," Connor said. "I know you don't mean it," he said to Brad.
Brad turned on Connor. "Oh, so I don't mean it, but he's allowed to?"
"That's not what I said," Connor replied. "You know what I mean."
"Do I?" Brad said. Yeah, I have a fucking crush on Tris, doesn't mean I can't be mad.
"You're not angry..." Connor started, "because..."
Brad spoke under his breath. "If you fucking dare..."
"I'm not that much of a jerk," Connor responded.
By this point, James and Tristan were thoroughly confused, giving each other a shrug and a clueless face.
"Just let it go, and let's all do something!" Connor said.
"Easy for you to say," Brad replied. "I think I'll pass."
James marched over to Brad and pulled him up from the couch. "You're not allowed to pass. Now get dressed."
"Shut up," Brad said, but he went to his room and got changed anyway.
.
[wow I didn't think I'd come back to this story but whaddya know]
