10 Days [Brallon]

I Was Gonna Title This Something Punny But I Forgot My Pun

[i was gonna post this yesterday but then I got a ukulele and I forgot but happy holidays]

"You're such a... such a dick!" I heard Ryan screech from down the street. The window was wide open since it was so humid outside, which was like an invitation for Brendon and Ryan to both start fighting - again. For the third time today.

"At least I have a bigger dick than you!" Brendon yelled back in a terribly thought up counterattack, which I assumed had somehow succeed when a loud gasp echoed throughout the neighborhood.

"Oh please Brendon, you do know there's a reason why I was always on t-"

He was cut off by the angry single soccer mom that lived across from them. Doors slammed, final cutting insults were screamed, and heavy footsteps stormed down the street and stopped in front of my door.

It was Brendon of course, metaphorical smoke pouring from his ears in anger. I wouldn't have expected anybody else.

"Another fight?" I asked and he nodded before collapsing into my chest with a defeated yelp.

"He spray painted the side of my house bright blue," Brendon grumbled "the homeowners association is gonna be pissed-"

That was probably a legal issue, but I pushed it aside. I don't have the time or the money to get caught up in something like that.

"Does he pull shit like that often? Do you guys fight like that all the time?" I crouched down in the slightest so I was closer to his level, and he threw his arms around my shoulders and hid his face in the crook of my neck.

"Yeah, he does. But I've gotten him back for everything so far. He's mad because I'm mad, and I'm terrified he's gonna crawl through my window and murder me in my sleep-"

"Do you want me to go home with you?" I asked pretentiously, and I hoped he would say yes just so I could breathe in his scent instead of the gross smell of whatever had died between the walls of my bedroom. From the little whiffs I could always smell, Brendon had the permanent fragrance of expensive cleaning supplies and exhaust fumes, which smelled really good, not gonna lie.

"Mhm," he sniffed again and stepped back, grabbing ahold of my hand like a child and leading me out the door behind him.

He apologized profusely for the mess, but he really shouldn't have, considering everything looked absolutely beautiful.

The walls were painted a white that almost appeared to be an impossibly light blue as you walked along the front hallway to the rest of his house, black and white pictures in similarly colored frames hanging in between countless awards and vintage looking car posters.

He had a black leather couch in his living room (it looked out of place at first glance, but it fit in with the other black accents scattered around), the smooth backing probably just about tall enough to obscure the kitchen behind. But if you really wanted to see it, the top candles to a glittering silver chandelier were visible as it dangled a couple feet over the incredibly light grey themed dining room table. It somehow still coordinated to the off white coloring the walls.

Everything matched and went along with the theme of everything else, even his silverware sitting neatly out on his counter on top of a couple shiny silver bowls. I didn't know how they were so impossibly shiny, and I honestly didn't care because metallic silver bowls were literally the coolest thing in the world. If I hadn't guessed it already, I could've sworn he'd inherited millions.

"It's not much," Brendon sighed and collapsed on his couch, throwing his boots over the side so they landed carefully on the pale sky blue tile flooring "but it's what I've got."