"Are we doing this, or not?" Brandon asks, his voice a rushing water of impatience. We've been sitting on my front porch for twenty minutes, about to go to the old McDonald's to find Snake. This whole thing is fucking insane. Maybe I should've gone and asked Snake about this first. Even if I did, what would I have done if he said no, which would've been the answer? He's definitely going to say no, no questions asked. Brandon's going to show the world that photo no matter what. Even if I offer to do his homework for a longer period of time, or give him more money. That would mean no lunch for me, but he'd still say show it anyways. I don't know why it's so important for him to see Snake, or what he's going to do when we get there, and I'm not sure I want to know. "Yeah, let's go." I brush the sweat off my hands and stand up. Brandon's so much taller than me; why didn't I just let him beat me up instead? Right, because that wasn't an offer. It should've been.
Brandon and I stroll down the street, enveloped by a cloud of uncomfortable silence. What exactly would a football captain and a skinny, nobody talk about? I return to thinking about possible reasons that Brandon would have for seeing Snake. He wouldn't want cigarettes, no, that would damage his body and criticize his sports career. He's too vain for self-destruction. Not me. I hate myself too much for vanity. I wonder what it's like, to love yourself that much- to have an ego, bigger than North Korea, bigger than Russia; Russia's fucking huge. We should've taken bikes. It feels like a longer walk through the woods than it did with Snake. That must be because when I was with him, I felt safe. Right now, I'm terrified. Seriously. A bear could jump out of us and tear Brandon's brain out. Wait, that's zombies. I always get the two mixed up. Also, we were running. Brandon insists we stay at a slow steady pace so he doesn't trip and fall, thus destroying his face, or snapping a bone. I personally think he'd be more attractive without that mask always on his face. I saw his expression when he failed the last math test. Deep down, he cares about his grades. Of course, he had seen my A, scoffed, and called me a nerd. It's starting to get dark. We left during daylight for a reason, but it clearly didn't matter. What if Snake's not there? What if they're out riding their bikes again? Finally, after a long walk, filled with aching silence, I can see the building in the distance, boarded windows, secret backdoor, and all. I stop in my tracks. "There it is." I announce, grabbing Brandon's arm. "Are you sure about this?"
He shakes me off and scoffs in disgust. "I'm not a fucking pussy. Take me to Jesse, cunt."
I look at this jock in shock. How the hell does he know? "Okay, what do you want from him, anyway? I deserve to know that much."
"The bastard's my brother," Brandon snarls, almost shouts but keeps quiet. I believe this is what a plot-twist feels like. It feels like I'm on an episode of a shitty soap opera. This is unbelievable. Bodybuilder Brandon is Snake's brother. "I know what you're thinking. How is such a hideous, sewer rat possibly related to a charming prince like myself." That's not what I'm thinking at all. I almost punch him for calling Snake ugly. I find him gorgeous, but I'm biased. Plus, it might be a bit strange to call your brother attractive in the sense that I do. Maybe what's so attractive about Snake is the face that he doesn't bath in his own perfection every night, thinking about how everyone loves him. At least I hope he doesn't. Brandon forces himself by me, and progresses toward the building impatiently. "I really don't think this is a good idea, mate." I say as I catch up to him. Brandon ignores me, and before I can think of more failure ways to stop him, we reach the door. I suggest we knock, but Brandon, who's always full of suicidal ideas, pulls on the door. Love a guy who always dives in headfirst, just not when it could kill us all. Luckily for me, the door's locked, but if anyone's inside, I'm sure they heard the door rattle as Brandon tugged on it. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he could pull the whole damn thing out of the wall.
"Well, looks like no one's home." I shrug, turning to leave. "Guess we better head back."
"Not so fast." Brandon holds out his hand, pressing his ear to the door. "There's someone in there." And, as a genius would do in this situation, he pounds primitively on the door. I look at him, all faith in humanity lost. "Why the hell are you so scared anyways, Heal-"
