10 Days [Brallon]

Secrets And Fancy Suits

[2K AYEEE also I won concert tickets off the radio I'm]

Josh rang the doorbell and walked in before I could yell at him not to. Because I was upstairs, trying to grab a shirt out from my closet without falling over again.

Also my place was an embarrassing mess of empty plates, discarded piles of clean clothes, movie disk cases, etc.

Things weren't going too well.

He wandered in without knocking (common etiquette when a door is shut), a large box nearly slipping from his grip.

"Brendon told me to give this to you," he huffed and dropped it on the floor "he said it's for whatever shit you're doing tonight. It sounds fancy from what Tyler and I eavesdropped on."

"Can you slide it to me?" I reached for it as he kicked it softly in my direction, and with only a simple goodbye, he left. He probably had plans to go back and see Tyler. Like usual.

As soon as the front door creaked shut, I took off the lid and lifted a pressed suit jacket from the box, along with a pair of nearly creased pants still encased in plastic wrapping. A note tumbled out with a bowtie, folded pristinely into a square.

"I didn't know if you owned any fancy attire, so I went to the tailor and got you one myself. Also Tyler and Patrick know your size so I'm not a creepy stalker I swear. Assuming Josh delivers this on time for once, 2 hours should be enough until Pete picks us up out front of your house. Where I'm taking you is a surprise, and no, it didn't cost too much, so stop worrying."

I don't do fancy. Suits scare me, and most people that wear suits do too. It's unnatural to be dressed like that daily - do they not sleep in normal clothes? Do people like that even own normal clothes? I don't know. I just don't want to become one of them.

But this was just one time I guess, and one time only because after this event I'm drawing the line and sticking a metaphorical 'no fancy things' sign in to the dirt.

I put on the suit anyways (because there was no use arguing with him about it now) which took a good hour to get the pants on right, and for another hour, I wandered downstairs and waited.

He arrived half an hour early in a wild panic [pls], holding on to handful of colored sharpies tied together with a simple rubber band.

"Quick," Brendon sprinted across the room and right next to me, dropping the sharpies into my hand and holding out his left arm where he cast around his wrist was fitted up to just before his elbow "I need you to draw me something."

"Draw what? Your cast looks fine-"

"I'm taking you to an art gallery, and this piece of shit on my arm has to look good for my own sake."

I suck at drawing. I can barely draw a cat without it turning out like it got caught in a meat grinder whilst trying to escape a terribly intense face-melting forest fire. I tried to explain it to him, but he wouldn't listen to a word I said, continuously insisting that I quit complaining and to just do it for him.

So I did. I uncapped the black and started from the edge near his thumb, swirling the ink and mixing it with blues to purples to reds. Pink shaded in the background, fading to orange near his elbow. I didn't know what I was doing when I used the brown to make a tree trunk and a green to make leaves, but I was quite proud of myself when a lake came into the picture.

"Are you sure you can't draw? It looks fantastic to me." Brendon grinned as soon as I stuck the cap back on the silver sharpie.