Goodnight Socialite ☆ Brallon

You Should Be Alone... With Me

Brendon was nervous. Like, really nervous, for some reason. He'd been on plenty of first dates (most of which never extending to anything more than a first date), not to mention he performed in front of thousands of people live most nights, and he was never this nervous. Dallon was just one person and Brendon wouldn't even really be performing anything. He didn't have lyrics to remember, or a setlist to follow, or anything like that. He was just expected to be himself, nothing more. The anxiety probably had something to do with the fact that Dallon was an exception. The crowds looked the same every night, the faces of his past first dates blend together in his head. Dallon was something new, and Brendon didn't want to fuck this up.

And that was why he spent every bit of two days- from the time the conversation with Dallon via text message ended that Sunday night, all the way to Tuesday morning- worrying.

His heart was still racing up to the very last second as he stood on the sidewalk waiting. It was cold, and Dallon was running a few minutes late. Or was Brendon early? He didn't know for sure, despite having checked the time every thirty seconds.

During one of those nervous time checks, Dallon appeared from around the corner down the street a bit with hair falling in his face and his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Brendon could have sworn his smile made the temperature rise a few degrees. Maybe Dallon Weekes was responsible for climate change, he thought momentarily. Or maybe Brendon was just getting even more nervous (if possible) at that, smiling back upon instinct.

"Hey," Dallon said as he moved a few delicate fingers across his forehead, pushing the wind blown strands of hair back into place.

"Hey," Brendon mimicked.

"Sorry if you were waiting." Dallon added, and they both pretended not to notice when their shoulders brushed on the walk up the few concrete steps that led to a pair of glass, double doors.

"It's cool," Brendon laughed a little as he opened one of the doors. He entered after Dallon, scrunching up his nose as he let the door shut behind them.

"You sure this is where you wanna hang out?" He mumbled, his words echoing off the marble floors.

Dallon looked over sharply.

"Hey, you're the one who mentioned it."

And yeah, Brendon had been the one to suggest it. Dallon said something about how it would be nice to see more of Vegas since he hadn't been there long, so Brendon racked his brain for the most basic attractions; something Dallon would have to see at least once, if only to be able to say he did. The first thing Brendon came up with was this art museum, and Dallon eagerly agreed.

"It's just quiet, is all." Brendon remarked, following Dallon to the admission counter.

"Quiet can be nice." Dallon added.

And there it was, the slightly profound statement from Dallon of the day that made Brendon zone out for a few minutes. He tuned back in when Dallon grabbed his hand though, of course. But then he realized it was just to help put on his wrist band- those weird papery adhesive ones that are nearly impossible to rip off. Brendon didn't have a great memory attached to those things, after the time he went to a theme park with Spencer in freshman year and accidentally punched him in the face trying to tear it off of his wrist. That day ended with Spencer in the back seat of his mom's van with a black eye, and a styrofoam cup full of melting ice as a souvenir. They watched Jimmy Neutron (on those little tv screens on the back of the front seats) during that 4 hour drive, and with two hours left, Spencer broke the silence with a, you fucking look like Jimmy Neutron, asshole. They were even after that, though Spencer did get yelled at by his mom for swearing.