Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

Chapter 24

 Late nights accompany Brendon's habits of terrible dreams, terrible thoughts, and excessive smoking and drinking. There was no solidarity, unless he eased into and accepted these thoughts. Like being submerged into a body of fire and pretending it's water.

There's a knock on Brendon's studio door, before he turns to see Sarah walk in. She's covered in baby blue pajamas and her hair is slightly a mess. It must have been 1 in the morning.

"Babe, what are you doing up?" The musician asks.

With a disappointed look on her face, Sarah takes out three packs of cigarettes from her pocket.

"What's this?" Brendon asks, confused by her disappointed demeanor.

"I found them in the back of our closet, along with other drugs you haven't told me about."

Brendon is bewildered, "Babe, you know I don't keep any crazy shit-"

"Stop calling me that, for two seconds. Alright, you stuffed these away on your side of the closet-"

"You just snooped through my shit in the middle of the night even though it's none of your business." Brendon says rather angrily.

She holds up the packs of cigarettes, "So these are yours? And none of my business? We're supposed to tell each other everything."

Brendon stands and walks over to her, "No," Brendon takes the packs from her, "These aren't fuckin mine."

Sarah takes a step back, "I don't believe you." She then turns to leave, just about slamming the door behind her.

Brendon gives himself a minute to cool down before examining the cigarettes. He really didn't smoke these. He quit them years ago because of the damage it did to his voice. But how could they be in his house? He opens one of them and sees only a few sticks left. He tries hard to remember if he accidentally smoked some while drunk, but that doesn't explain, so how he could own them? He didn't purchase them, maybe someone just planted them in his pocket. God, he doesn't remember whole nights...

~~~

Brendon manages to get woken up early one morning by haunting figures running through his head and blood on his hands. He proceeds through the morning as if his body is on autopilot. Breakfast, coffee, studio. Even when the music he always enjoyed flows through his speakers, he reminds emotionless. Instead of working on songs for his upcoming record, he strings random samples of other artist's songs together. The final product is nothing but jumbled noises.

He walks back in his house with cautious steps. He knows Sarah is up and still upset with him even though it had been at least a week. He still couldn't possibly contemplate how to fix things, because there was nothing he had done. He swears...

She's in the livingroom watching the news. The reporter talks about strange animal attacks close to where they live happening about one month apart from each other. The locations shown on the screen make Brendon uneasy. He'd been to those places, or had at least seen them more vividly in his dreams. The reporter concludes saying that they have yet to figure out what kind of animal it could be. The musician feels uneasy, but quiets his thoughts as best as he can.

Sarah turns to look at him, "Can you believe this? So strange. Makes me not want to leave the house." She takes the remote and changes the channel.

"Whatever that thing is, it won't hurt you. I promise." Brendon says.

Sarah takes a second before looking back up at the musician. She lifts her hand up in his direction, cuing him to take it. He does, and then sits next to her, proceeding to hold her close.