hømetøwn

• : / ten / : •

"Okay, so...Apparently yesterday when you and I met, I was a...a, uh..." Ryan looked over to Brendon, eyebrows furrowed. "Uh..."

"Douche canoe."

"Right. Thanks for that, Brendon. Okay, so, uh. Apparently yesterday, when you and I met, I was a gigantic douche canoe. I totally wasn't drunk or something. Because, like, um. Illegal."

"For the love of God, Ryan, do you even know English?"

"Shut up! I'm trying to apologize to your..." His eyes flashed to me and squinted with uncertainty. "...Your buddy pal, here! Can't a man make a decent apology in peace?"

"I'm sorry, but you thought that was decent?"

"Okay, you know what? If you're such a master at apologies, why don't you lead the way? I'll just repeat."

"Okay, okay, good idea," said Brendon, slapping Ryan on the back. "Here we go. Repeat after me. Chloe Lake Burnside."

"Chloe Lake Burnside."

"Um, actually," I said, "you can just call me Lake -"

"Chloe Lake Burnside, I apologize deeply for being a gigantic douche canoe," said Brendon.

"Chloe Lake Burnside, I apologize deeply for being a douche canoe," said Ryan.

"Gigantic douche canoe."

Ryan glared at him. "This isn't fair. I have to apologize for being a douche canoe but you don't have to apologize for being a pretentious shit?"

Brendon raised his eyebrows. Ryan sighed.

"Fine. I'm sorry for being a gigantic douche canoe."

"I am also sorry for pissing my bed and making Uncle Brendon clean it for me."

"I'm sorry, but it's one hundred percent against my moral compass as a human being to call you Uncle Brendon," said Ryan. "It's just plain out wrong."

"You know what else is just wrong?" said Brendon. "Pissing the bed. And making Uncle Brendon clean it. Asshat."

"FINE. I'm sorry for pissing the bed and making you clean it."

"'You' being who?"

Ryan hissed several filthy insults under his breath, then said, "Uncle Brendon."

"Damn right. That's the way I like it." Brendon grinned, ruffling Ryan's hair. Ryan jerked away from him, glowered, and pushed his hair back into place.

I said, "Are you sure you're okay with me sharing this place with you for a little while? I swear I'll be out of here as soon as I can."

Ryan shrugged. "It's whatever. Brendon's the one sleeping on the couch. I don't give a shit as long as you aren't a huge -"

"Douche canoe?" I offered.

His eyes narrowed. "I was going to say food hog."

Brendon snorted. I shot him a death look.

"Anyway," said Brendon, his eyes on me, "did you sleep okay last night? I realize my room is kind of a disaster area. And I was kind of up and around helping Ryan and stuff last night. I - I, um - I'm sorry, Lake. I'll clean up for you tonight and it won't be so -"

"It was totally fine. Don't worry about it. Thanks for everything," I said. "I should go looking for jobs today, though. I want to be able to get my own place once you guys are gone."

Something in Brendon's gaze flickered. He looked away.

"Yeah," said Ryan. "We'll be all over the place. Pretty pumped for that. That's when our lives are really going to begin." He elbowed Brendon and violently air guitared. "Am I right or am I right?"

Brendon smiled, but something about it appeared distant. "You're right."

"Hey, by the way," said Ryan, pausing in his air guitar jam, "I got a text from Spencer. He and Jon can drop by tonight to rehearse some of Fever -"

Brendon's eyes flicked to me then to Ryan. "All right. Yeah. Sweet. We need to coordinate some stuff, especially on It's Better If You Do. I'm not sure how I want that to look as far as live shows go yet..."

As he and Ryan sank into talk of the band, I slipped out of the kitchen and into Brendon's room. His trademark cool vanilla smell glossed across my skin as I slid the door shut. I was still in the clothes I wore to bed last night. I fumbled around in the unfamiliar room. Where was my bag? It took several minutes to locate it. It was hidden in the haze of last night's chaos - dropped in here somewhere between Ryan's arrival and the pissing incident.  Finally, I found and unzipped it. I'd only managed to pack a few different outfits. And though they'd been wearable just weeks ago, the prospect of wearing them around Brendon made them seem irreparably lame. I mean, a green sweater and jeans? Really? What was I, a grandma? God. I was hopeless. But it was better than wearing something of Brendon's without asking. Or staying in these sweat soaked clothes. I sighed and stripped naked, changing into the sweater and jeans.

Ding-ding.

I straightened my sweater and paused.

Ding.

The sound had come from across the room. Brendon's phone lay on the crumpled bedspread, screen glowing with notifications.

I knew I probably shouldn't. His messages were none of my business. My eyes travelled to his phone then snapped away, then drifted back to the phone.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Who the hell was sending him that many text messages? It might be important. Without really thinking about it, I inched towards the bed, eyes trained on the phone.

Ding. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding.

His home screen was splattered with text notifications, all from a contact named Isabella. My mouth suddenly felt dry. Isabella. The name stirred something in my memory. Something from...That first night, when Brendon and I were driving through the infinite darkness. I remembered him handing me his phone, his lips pulled into a taunting smile as he said, "Plug in and turn up."

His phone had been buzzing with text messages. I remembered my voice, telling him he had literally ninety from someone named Ryan, a few from someone named Pete, and a ton from an Isabella. Something in my gut shifted.

When I came back out, Ryan and Brendon were absorbed in a whispered conversation. I eased my way around them, towards the door.

  "Hey, I'm going out," I said.

Brendon's gaze snapped to me. Whatever words he had been hissing to Ryan fell off his lips and evaporated.

"Not without me, you absolute nerd waffle." He grabbed his jacket and joined me at the door. "You don't know your way around the city. You'll get mugged or some shit. I'll show you around."

"No," I said immediately. "You and Ryan have band stuff to work out, right? I shouldn't take you away from -"

"No, it's fine," said Brendon, exchanging a significant glance with Ryan. Ryan looked away. "It's fine."

Something about the way his lips were pulled taut made me doubt him, but I decided not to push it. Besides, he was right; I needed someone to show me around my new city.

"Okay," I said. "But seriously, if you've got stuff you need to work on or figure out, don't feel like I'm holding you back, you can do whatever you need to, I'm just going to go look around and try to find a job."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Brendon, pushing open the door. His hand brushed against my shoulder. "Let's go."