Drive -- Brallie AU [COMPLETED]

twelve

BRANDON

Brandon walked the early streets of Queens alone whilst he thought about what Lou said thirty minutes before hand.

For the past week, he had been staying at her apartment, despite their encounter on the first night. She was kind to him. Bought him a toothbrush, talked him through everything that was bothering him. Lou made him realize a couple things that felt so important to Brandon. And because he left his phone at his and Callie's apartment, she let him borrow her's for a while.

Then, out of no where, she had gotten incredibly fed up with him. "You need to leave." She insisted. "Callie needs you." As she talked, she shoved Brandon towards the door. "She ran into me today and she's a mess and she just really needs you right now, Brandon."

"Lou, you told me to go home. To go to San Diego."

"You're an ass, Brandon. You can't just up and leave her after a fight. Go talk to her."

Thirty four minutes later, he paced outside of their apartment door. She's a mess and she just really needs you right now. What could that mean?

Worry filled Brandon as his hand trembled, hovering over the door handle. He had already unlocked it, and was continuing to scare himself with the possibilities as to what was wrong with Callie.

"Callie?" He said as he opened the door. Walking in, he saw her curled into a ball on the bed, tissues flooding over her side of the bed, making a deformed circle on the floor.

"Brandon," she whispered, with hope in her voice. She slowly sat upright as he walked closer to her. "I'm so sorry for overreacting, Brandon."

"I shouldn't have left," he sat next to her on the bed, taking her hands.

"I shouldn't have made you leave." Brandon drew circles on her right hand with his thumb, which in a way calmed both of them. "But, there's something else. You're going to get mad."

He thought about what Lou said and pulled his hands to his side. "What happened?"

"About a week ago your mom called. She, uh, said your dad had gotten shot on the job." Tears went down Callie's cheek. "He went into surgery and there were uh, complications."

Brandon got up. "Complications?" His voice wavered as he got up and backed away from the girl.

"No one would really tell me where he got shot. They were all a mess. Four days ago your mom called and told me that-- Brandon your father he's, he's gone."

CALLIE

She turned into a fucking faucet, at least that's what it felt like. Callie watched Brandon comprehend it. He sat down a few times, he paced around the room in short strides for a few minutes. "How could you not tell me?" Brandon yelled.

"You were telling me you hate New York! On and on about how you were only here because of me! How I basically ruined my life by dragging you across country." Callie was trying not to scream. But, she was so hurt and tired. Callie thought that she would never feel that hurt with Brandon.

"I never said that." Brandon said, defensively.

"You should've. I have a question, Brandon, were you truthful at anytime on our trip? Of anytime of our relationship? Have you ever even loved me?"

And the room went silent.

He looked heartbroken. "I can't believe you would say that to me. After all we have been through? You know that I will do anything to have you."

"Brandon--"

"I have to go. This means that I must go home."

"I know. And you know that I can't face them." They were right in front of each other again. Callie was looking up at Brandon, and she hoped that she was right in what was about to happen.

BRANDON

"I know," he gazed into her eyes, and he felt everything she made him feel all at once. Anger. Sadness. The restoration of true love. Desperation for her touch. The fact that true beauty is real.

"I love you, Brandon."

"I love you, too, Callie."

Callie pulled him in for a hug. Her hands rested on his neck and he slowly pulled her body to his by her waist. "I'm so sorry, Brandon," she cried into his shoulder, "for everything."

"Shh," he whispered, "not everything is your fault." He felt her nod, and he pulled her off of him to look her in the eyes. "I'll miss you."

Then, something he hoped for, she kissed him. It was deep and long, it was everything he wanted in that moment. Callie made things feel right, she made Brandon whole, she ignited the fireworks.

"We shouldn't," he managed to escape, but Callie convinced him otherwise with her tongue.

His hands went from her head to her shoulders to her waist, where he played with the hem of her shirt. Brandon's fingers lightly grazing her as he felt her becoming more and more agitated. Finally, she slowly lifted her arms and Brandon her shirt; then his jacket fell to the floor.

Brandon took Callie in his arms and started to make their way to the bed. Meanwhile, Callie giggled as she unbuttoned Brandon's shirt. She kissed his newly exposed skin and laughed some more. "God, this past week was hell." Callie said in between her giggles and kisses.

"Oh?" Brandon spoke. They landed on the bed with Callie on her back. If he had to be honest, he wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Holy shit, I hated it." As she talked, Brandon simultaneously kissed her neck and un-did her belt. "I mean, the thought of you hating me killed me."

"I would never."

Soon they were both in their underwear, then nothing at all. His hands traced over her body, squeezing her chest, making her moan. "I want you," she exhaled into his jawline.

They were perfect together. It was obvious. Apart they were complete messes-- Brandon had strayed from his mom so much you could have call it mommy issues; and Callie, you could have written a whole five page essay on what was wrong with her-- but when they collided they were this beautiful symphony.

Callie hoped that this wasn't something they were doing out of anger, or if it was just something in the moment. She hoped that she would wake up with Brandon there next to her, and not an empty bed.

Brandon thought about if what he was doing was out of love. For Callie, for his family, for him. He wondered what he would consider his home in a week.