cheater; tradley

twenty four

Cheater ((24))

Confusion is all that Tristan is feeling.

He was just trying to help. He was just trying to help. He was just trying to help.

The blond knows that Brad was just trying to help; that maybe the twenty-year-old was genuinely worried about the couples relationship, was worried about Jules cheating. That maybe he wasn't completely lying about everything he said.

But Jules would never cheat. She wouldn't do that the Tristan; they're in love, so why would she even want to? She's a faithful girlfriend, and Tristan knows this for sure. Right?

Right, he thinks to himself. She wouldn't. She couldn't.

He knows he's just being paranoid because Bradley said all of that stuff, but he also knows that no one is at fault here; Jules is innocent, Brad was just trying to help, and Tristan is just a confused boy, thinking over everything.

Guilt takes the place of confusion.

The blond knows he shouldn't have been so harsh on his friend. Bradley was worried about the couple, scared that maybe Tristan would get hurt. And though he knows that Brad was wrong, that he had nothing to worry about in his loyal relationship, he still appreciates the care and thoughtfulness of what was said.

He had yelled at Bradley, yelled loud and rudely, and he regrets it, very very much. He should've been gentler, kinder, tried to hear Brad out in his opinions before denying the obviously untrue claim. But he didn't, he'd told him to leave, and for that the guilt just eats him up inside.

Sadness is next.

The tall boy shakes his head, strands of his blond hair falling into his face, and he frowns. Tristan hates fighting in general, with Brad more than anyone. And just...with how upset the smaller boy had seemed, the tears that had been brimming in his eyes as Tris pointed to the door; the memory hurts him almost as much as it must've tortured Brad.

The whole flat is quiet, unusually quiet, and it just makes Tristan even more aware of his best friends' absence. And that makes him even more upset than he already was.

Worry is next up on the list of emotions that you're apparently supposed to feel when you get into a pretty big fight with your best friend and tell them to leave but regret it quite immediately.

The whole fight happened the previous morning, which means Brad's been gone for over twenty four hours. Twenty four hours. It feels like a lifetime, though they've only been living together for about a week. Tristan misses the younger boy badly, and all this is what makes the worry appear.

Twenty four hours.

Where could he have gone? When will he be back? Is he even going to come back? Is he okay?

Calm down, he has to tell himself. He's fine.

Brad has his own apartment; he could've been there, or at his boyfriend's place. Maybe he was staying with a friend, or with the cousin that was looking after Jesse. He could've even gone up to his parents' place. Tristan's flat is not the only home that Bradley has.

With this thought, assuring him that Brad is okay, his next worry is, is he going to come back?

What if he doesn't? What if I scared him away and he doesn't want to speak to me anymore? What if this is the end of our friendship?

The last idea is the one that gets to him the most, making his stomach twist in discomfort. He's lost too many friends, and with the knowledge of how horrible that feels, he doesn't even want to think of what it would be like to lose Brad. A million times worse, he's sure.

Tristan's train of mixed thoughts and emotions is interrupted as he hears the flat's lock click. In panic, he bolts up, grabbing his phone in the case of having to call the police if there's an intruder. Slowly, carefully, he strides towards his bedroom door, peaking outside before actually leaving the safety of his room. The only people who have the keys to his flat are him and...Bradley.

The mop of curly brown hair stands awkwardly near the door, jacket hanging messily over his shoulders. His eyes are red from what looks like lack of sleep, or maybe crying, and his usual happy smile has disappeared, replaced by a bothered grimace. All this makes the blond frown, unhappy at the sight of his friend so upset.

"Oh," Brad mumbles sleepily, nervously, when he spots the boy standing there, phone clutched tightly in his hands. "Sorry. I, uh, thought you'd be asleep. Or something. I would've called before coming but I left my phone here yesterday."

Tristan doesn't answer, feet stuck to the ground and his lips closed.

"I just came to pick up a few things. I figured you'd want me out or whatever, so I just wanted to grab my stuff."

The blond still doesn't answer, eyes glued to the tired boy who still stands near the door, a concerned look on his face.

"Um, so I guess I'll just..." Brad motions behind Tristan, signalling that he's going to go to the guest room for his belongings, though he doesn't move from his place.

Before he can, Tristan rushes forward, tackling the smaller, surprised boy in a tight hug. "Holy crap," he murmurs into the boys' curls. "I was so worried about you."

"I..." Brad pauses a moment, seems to realize what's happening, wraps his arms around Tristan hesitantly as if it might be some sort of prank and the older boy might pull away any second. "I was just at my apartment."

"I figured, but holy crap, I wasn't sure and I wanted so bad to be sure. And I would've called you, but I saw your phone lying on the counter, and I told myself that if you weren't back today that I'd go looking for you. First at yours, and then Markus' place, then James' and Connor's and then wherever else it took to find you. But you're here and hell, I'm so happy about that. So relieved that you're okay. You're okay and alright and that makes me feel so much better than I've been feeling all day."

"I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly," Bradley says, so sadly that it's audible he's embarrassed.

Tristan's answer comes even quieter, much more embarrassed than Brad ever could be about it. "I'm sorry for making you."

"It's fine....I'm sorry about saying all that stuff. Well, not that, but- I'm sorry for how I told you. So abruptly and insensitively. I could've approached the situation much better. And maybe done some research before claiming things that I'm not even sure are one hundred percent true."

"I'm sorry for being so harsh. It was horrible of me to say the things I did, no matter the reason. I regret it all, believe me."

"I'm sorry for being so jealous that you've been hanging out with Jules so much lately," the younger boy shrugs, still in Tristan's embrace. "I just miss you. It's weird going from spending ninety nine percent of my time with you down to eighty two or whatever."

"Now that's nothing to be sorry about, love," the blond smiles softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Brad's head among the curls. "Because I miss you too, you know that. We've talked about this. Just because I spend a lot of time with her doesn't mean you're still not my bear."

"I know," Brad speaks, words muffled by Tristan's shirt. "I know."

"Good."

"Um, I should," he says slowly, pulling away. "I should get my stuff now."

"Now why would you do that?" the taller boy questions, releasing Brad completely and taking a seat on the couch.

"Well, um, I just thought...you wanted me out. Plus, it's the end of family week around now, isn't it? So, like..."

"You don't have to go. You could stay. I mean, if you'd like."

"You don't...want me gone?"

The blond grimaces, obviously very sorry about what he'd said the previous day. "No, I could never. I just...needed some time to think yesterday. But it was wrong kicking you out of here. It's your home too, now, and telling you to leave wasn't appropriate. But I'm asking you now to stay. Telling you that I'd like that."

"Well damn," Brad smiles, looking still as tired as before though much happier. "Now how could someone resist an offer like that?"