The Neighbor // Brallon

Small Cuts

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING
Dallon pov

The sun is bright on my face and the waves lap happily against the shore. Where we sit the sand is more compact, the surf coming up to nibble at our exposed toes. Brendon and I are sat next to each other with our hands tangled together in the sand.

"So what do you want to know?" I ask him, raking my fingers through the loose sand at my fingertips.

"Everything..."

"Ooph okay," I take a deep breath, "my name is Dallon James Weekes. I've played bass since I was 15 when a devilishly handsome elder at my church taught me, um, my mother hates my sexuality... thinks I'm confused. But uh, I like bananas and glasses that are too big for my face," I laugh half heartedly, pulling at my shirtsleeves nervously.

"Okay?"

"You want more?"

"I want," he clambers into my lap with his his knees on either side of my hips, "all of it. All of you. All the good, all the bad, ugly and in between. So please, tell me everything," he kisses me soft and slow, his nails digging into my scalp. There are little kids laughing and screaming at the waves in the distance and my heart swells.

"I love you..." I say it breathlessly, like it's a confession. And it's beautiful.

"I love you too Dal," he kisses me again, "now tell me more stories..."

I inhale deeply. Might as well tell him the nasty first. "Alright, so when I was 15 I learned how to play bass from one of the elders. He was like 3 years older than me, nothing serious. But he liked me and I liked him so when he would come over for lessons we'd play in my room and mess around a little bit." He's still sitting on my lap, looking at me with loving eyes.

"My mom worked so I knew I had until 5:30 every night to be by myself, or be with Matthew. We always made sure that by 5:25 our shirts were back on, but we lost track of time one day and in walks my mom. She had gotten a promotion and told her she could finish the day at home," I inhale and run a hand through my hair nervously.

"She freaked out... kicked him out of my house and practically destroyed my bass," his eyes are sad now and I run the pass of my fingers across his porcelain face.

"The next day she sent me away to a corrections camp in Oklahoma, and for a week it was nothing but the Bible, bread, water and shock therapy..." my eyes are burning so badly, and his his hands. His hands are there. They comfort me.

"Baby..."

"When I got home everyone looked at me differently, I wasn't accepted in church, at school, anywhere. I got used to being alone," a tear falls down my cheek. "You said you wanted to know the ugly right?"

He nods his head and i play with my shirtsleeve again, "yes babe."

"Okay..." tugging my sleeves up, I reveal to him the deep scar on both of my forearms. I haven't looked at them in what feels like years. They've faded, but not enough to forget. Not nearly enough.

"Dallon.... honey, no."

He's crying now too. The both of us just sitting in the sand with tears falling freely down our faces.

"I figured that at some point, if I waited long enough they'd forget. Maybe they'd let me starve in my bedroom, maybe I'd become that irrelevant." I wipe the tears from his eyes, "I took the sleeping pills first because I figured that I'd pass out after the cuts... started the bathtub, and I fell asleep with blood pouring out of me listening to Mozart.

When I woke up I remember crying. My parents didn't understand why I had done it cause they thought they had cured me... and all I wanted was to die."

My tears are heavy. The aching feeling in my stomach and the cotton in my mouth. I can't breathe and everything hurts. I didn't want to remember this. I didn't ever want to feel it again.

I don't remember his helping me up and putting me back in the passenger seat of the car. I don't remember the traffic on the way home and I don't remember the sun fading into the moon.

I do remember him tucking me into bed and rubbing small circles into my back until I fell asleep.
*
When I wake up in the morning he's still asleep, his back pressed against my side with the sun casting shadows on his perfect freckles that decorate his face.

I rub my tear swollen eyes and run a hand through my sleep hair before going downstairs. I make coffee, sitting on the countertop and listening to the calming sounds of it brewing. When it finishes, I make both of our cups up and retrieve our newspaper on the driveway before I take it back upstairs. He's laying on his back now, arms and legs spread wide in my absence. I sit on his side of the bed, peppering his face in soft kisses to wake him up from his peaceful slumber. As he starts to wake up, he catches my lips in a deeper kiss, pulling me into his chest by my wrinkled long sleeve.

"G'mornin..." he mutters with a fluttery breath, separating our lips. I keep my gaze at his eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes meeting my bluer ones and blinding me into his oblivion.

"Morning baby," I hand him his cup and he smiles into it as he takes a sip. Sitting next to him, he cuddles up to me while I read the paper. We drink our coffee in the quiet, him focusing solely on the coffee and me reading about the shit our world has fallen into.

Then he takes my hand into his and pushes up my sleeve. He runs the tips of his fingers along the scar and looks up at me with sad eyes.

"I don't want you to ever feel alone again..."

"I'm fine now babe. Have been since I was 16," I press a kiss to his forehead. This is why I didnt want to tell him, now he's worried.

"But i don't ever want you to feel like that," he has tears in his eyes, "I love you and i plan on staying forever." He goes silent, staring straight into his coffee. He takes a breath like he was swimming and gasping for breath. "What if you had died?! What if- God Dallon... I love you."

"But I didn't die bren... obviously for a reason," I kiss his lips softly, loving the taste of coffee on his tongue. "Now it's your turn to tell stories."

Starting abruptly he says, "my dad used to hit me," he shrugs, "it wasn't that bad, but just enough to drive me away."

"I'm sorry b."

"Don't be, i probably deserved it," he laughs. "A few of my friends and I moved to Cape Town, South Africa right of high school and started a band."

"South Africa?"

He laughs, "yeah now that I think about it I don't know why we went there. Obviously we didn't get popular and I decided I didn't like the weather, so I came back and here I am."

"We should go to South Africa..." i say with finality.

"I'm thinking about taking my seniors before graduation," he smiles up at me over his cup. "I think it would be a cool cultural thing yanno?"

"That'd be cool," then a light bulb goes off in my head and I sit up hurriedly almost spilling the coffee in my hand, "What if we got married in Cape Town babe?"