(Not) Your Guardian

3- Stupid Red Jacket

A/N- update for ya'll because I have no self control and I'm just so excited for you guys to read this book ^-^ Also I've been listening to a lot of oldies music+The Brobecks while writing this story, so a lot of references are probably accidental. I just have a lot of lyrics in my head right now haha

The Morning of Brendon's 23rd Birthday

It was around one in the afternoon, I was just in my bedroom playing my acoustic instead of my bass for a change. I had just taught myself a new song yesterday and was practicing it over and over until I could play it flawlessly.

I was about halfway through it when I could feel Brendon tugging at the back of my mind. I groaned and placed my guitar on its stand, I really didn't want to go see him. I could tell he was calling me and he wasn't actually in danger so I was preparing myself to not yell at him for calling me for no reason.

Again.

The tugging grew stronger as I slid my shoes on. I would just ignore it if I could, but after five minutes I'd be automatically transported to earth against my will so there's really no point.

After I got my shoes on I took a deep breath as one last attempt to calm my nerves and gave into the tug in my mind, taking me wherever Brendon was at the moment.

This time it was his horribly messy apartment. I looked around and saw Brendon sitting on his sofa in only his boxers typing away on his laptop, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence and he looked up at me.

"Dal Pal!" he cheered as he set the laptop on the coffee table in front of him and stood from the couch. He maneuvered around discard clothing, beer cans, and pizza boxes until he was in front of me, that stupid smirk of his plastered on his face.

As usual.

"It's my birthday!"

"I know, happy birthday!" I said as enthusiastically as I could manage, but it just came out very monotonous anyways. I threw in a tried grin in hopes that it would help.

"Why weren't you here at midnight to say that? Isn't the kind of your fucking job?" he questioned as he went into the kitchen to grab a box of granola out of his cabinet to munch on as we spoke.

"No, my job is to make sure you don't accidentally kill yourself because of all the dumb shit you do." I said exasperatedly.

"Now why did you call me here? Was that it or do you actually need me? I do have a life at home you know."

It is very unlike me to be this rude, but after years of dealing with this version of Brendon I have absolutely no patience for him.

"Fine, fine you cranky old man. Since it's my birthday I plan to get completely wasted tonight-"

"When do you not?" I interjected.

"Shut up. Anyways, I'm going clubbing with my friends and I need your help with something. Come here," he began to walk to his bedroom and I trailed behind him, very suspicious of what he was going to ask me.

He went over to his closest and pulled out two suit jackets, a shiny gold one and a red one.

"Which one?"

"Are you serious? How many times do I have to tell you this Brendon! You're only supposed to call me when you need help important things! Things that are life and death or just really hard for you to deal with on your own, not suit jackets! Why couldn't you just text one of your friends? I mean because you are so popular and have tons of them as you like to always go on about every time I'm here."

"Because this is quicker and I know you can't ignore me. You need to not be so fucking uptight about this shit. I doubt you have a life back home; you're such a stick in the mud that no one would want to hang out with you. I bet you just sit alone in your apartment all day don't you? Think about this: tonight I'm gonna get laid by some fucking hot guy or girl and you just have a date with your right hand," he scoffed.

I rolled my eyes and went to leave the room, but he had one last comment that made me freeze in my tracks.

"I bet your parents don't even want to be around you."

I turned around and walked right up to him. I towered over him and held a tight glare in my eyes as I started him down.

"My parents got murdered asshole. They got murdered while they were here on earth working out a business deal with your parents. You would know this if you ever talked to your own fucking parents."

That instantly shut him up. He looked down at his feet and mumbled a quiet sorry, but then added that I shouldn't be so sensitive.

I took a nearby beer can that still had some beer in it and poured it all over his stupid red jacket that was lying on his bed.

"Does that help you make your decision?" I asked as I walked out of the room.

Before he could say anything I transported myself back to my apartment. I was fine, until I looked to my left and saw a picture of my parents and me from one of our vacations when I was younger. That was when I burst into tears.

I was very close with my parents, and their deaths took a toll on me. I had been doing ok coping with the grief, but Brendon had to go and stir things up again.

They had only died two months ago and the wounds were still fresh. I sat on the couch and let myself cry until I ran out of tears. I sniffed a bit and pulled myself off the couch and went into my bathroom to splash cold water on my face. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I didn't like what I saw.

Brendon was sadly right. I didn't have any friends or a busy life. I just sat around and did nothing almost all the time. I couldn't even go visit my parents anymore unless I went to the cemetery.

I was a pale, lonely shut in. But that's ok for now I guess, I could be more outgoing like Brendon, but I've seen what happens to people like him in the end and I refuse to let that happen to me.

The rest of the day I lay on my couch cuddled in a blanket watching movies and hoping Brendon wouldn't call again, but I didn't get my wish.

Around seven in the evening he called. I reluctantly slid my shoes back on to go see whatever he needed this time. I was at his apartment again, but this time he was dressed in insanely tight shiny black pants and that gold jacket and there were other people in the apartment. Some of his friends I assumed.

"Ah here he is! The guy who poured beer all over my favorite blazer," Brendon said coming over to me and pulling me towards some of his stronger looking friends.

I instantly began to panic and tried to pull away from him, but one of his friends grabbed onto my arm really hard before I could leave.

"Don't fuck with me Weekes," Brendon said, and next thing I know there's a fist heading straight for my face.

All of this over that stupid red jacket.